After breakfast cooked by my husband, gifts, angelic children at church, brunch that included my own carafe of special “punch” at Babette’s and my lovely husband let me take a nap. If you count 4 hours as a nap.

When Julian gently touched me to wake me up he said, “Sorry, but I wanted to see if you wanted to get up.”  To which I replied, “Is it still Sunday?” That’s how good of a nap it was.

It was a good day.

When we were at church Quinn crawled into my lap for the end of the service. She was leaning into me and very tired. She’s not feeling her best lately and all the more obvious that her daily living is impacted by PKD. So I asked her if she wanted me to hold her. Instead of saying yes, she slowly moved her feet over my lap, and instinctively knew I would lift her into my arms. When she does this we have the perfect position where we’re both comfortable. Her laying across my lap with her head buried in my right shoulder, my right arm supporting her back and where my left hand rests on her legs or meets my other arm where I interlock my fingers. Her arms are usually tucked up into her chest. Sometimes when I am looking at her she will look up and catch me staring at her and she always is surprised by this. Which makes me laugh a little bit, because we’ve had this same routine for years. She will say “What?” and I will say “I’m just looking at my smart, sweet, beautiful girl!” She smiles or giggles nearly every time.

While I was listening to the last hymn (Still holding Quinn, I was seated with others unable to stand) I was thinking about how vulnerable she is right now. I had a clear thought I wanted to remember the moment of holding my girl who needs some extra attention right now. Some extra understanding from her parents and those that love her. While she understands the general concept of getting a kidney because of what Gage has gone through, she doesn’t really know how hard it will be. And there’s a deep pain inside of me for her because it will be something that she has to go through and I can’t change that part.

Being a mother to a child that faces a life threatening disease has it’s own unique challenges as you might imagine. The challenge changes almost daily with a new treatment, new symptom, social or education deficit, or an emotional need that needs to be addressed. There’s a deep appreciation that my child is alive and has options for treatment. A deep, deep gratitude for the people that have the skill to help save her and the willingness for someone to want to give her a kidney.

While my Mother’s Day mirrors many other women (I can only hope!) in the area of rest and gifts and apprecation from their families, today I was thinking about all of the ways I am different. I sure am different from the kind of mother I thought I would be. Which is a direct result of the kind of kids I have. Oh, how I love them. And the incredible gifts they have taught me. I just wish there wasn’t so much to learn sometimes.