I have eleven days.

Eleven days until Poppy’s surgery. Eleven days to pack up an entire 3 bedroom house. Eleven days to organize and deliver a spectacular 10th birthday bash. Eleven days to walk the earth with an inward limp, an upturned stomach, exposed nerves, a swollen heart, and a screaming baby.

Her fontanelle is beginning to “bulge” now. Her brain is out of room. The clock is ticking… please don’t let her screams be from pain, please don’t let her suffer intracranial pressure. Please.

Just a few months ago I was eagerly packing a bag for the birth center. Itty bitty baby booties. Gowns. Diapers. Homemade shower goodies, and self-care items. Now I pack a different bag. Clothes that don’t have to go over her head. Clothes for when the pain meds come back up.  Clothes with homemade “wire and tube holes.”

I keep staring at her head. Her perfect, beautiful, flawless scalp. Her gorgeous, wispy baby hairs. Her intact skull.

I am so scared. I am so close to emotional upheaval. I am clawing at the door of total breakdown. I can’t.

I want amnesia… but without the memories of this life – I would certainly fail to believe I had the strength to pick up from July 12th. Every day has prepared me, every blow to the face, the heart, the pride, the faith – all stepping stones to here and now – because nothing can ever be harder than this. I can do this, now. I cannot do bigger than this. Please, God. Nothing bigger than this.

Eleven days after we are released from the hospital, we move. I have found the perfect place to live. A little three bedroom home near the river, and away from the hustle and bustle. The timing could not have been better. Being able to breathe easy about “home” is really priceless right now. While I am not in any way looking forward to the stress of actually moving, once settled I just know that this will be a truly amazing time of transformation and trust.

Every three minutes it hits me again. The gravity of the coming days.

Like a swarm of bees, and sweet, apple cider sweat. If I keep swatting – it stings.