meet you on the other side (prose stuck in poetry form)

I.

I rushed inside to the fifth floor, gave them my name, Noah Becker, and took my seat. I was equally dreading and eager to get this appointment over with. She came swooping around the corner after a little girl carrying a sippy cup in her mouth. She wore dreads, converse shoes, and an exhausted expression. The short conversation I eavesdropped on was discouraging and made me glance up in disbelief. Her age, not more than 22, I would guess.

I was taken back to what feels like a lifetime ago. Tired eyes and worry lines framed my 28 year skin.

I can not assume to know her exact situation, but I filled in the blanks where I was able.

I hoped for an opportunity to exchange anything with her, but was left unsatisfied.

I experienced a tug within myself, calling to me, this is yours, Annie.

All I would say is that I’ll meet you on the other side of this, dear child. Things will get better. I promise.

II.

I was at the Pediatric Specialty Clinic this past week to meet with a social worker to discuss different community resources for Noah. As I was waiting for my turn, I noticed a young girl chasing a toddler. I was not sure what the situation was or if the young girl had a diagnosis (in this clinic, 90% of the children do) but I felt a tug on my heart to reach out to the mother. She looked exhausted and on the verge of tears. Her partner was anything but helpful, stating that “he was not going to do any of this today”. As the PA and nurse followed the girl out, they said that they would be able to fit her in if she wanted to wait a bit longer. The father at this point said “we have to get a diagnosis today”.

I was reminded of how I floundered as a newbie in the confusing and scary world of special needs. I felt a surge of emotions for this young girl. I wanted to comfort her, to let her know that it will get better. I searched for an opportunity to approach her, without appearing overly emotional. It all happened so quickly, the chasing down to the conversations with the PA, that I was unable to connect.

There are many days where I feel like I am still so baffled and ignorant in the position God has placed me in with Noah. I fear the worst and at the same time am filled with joy at the reality of our footing. Regardless though, it is a firm foundation…one that I so desperately feel compelled to impart on others, even on my roughest days. It is what fuels my writing, my blog, and much of my life. Writing for me, has proved useless without a fire behind it, without a passion to drive me. I am discontent writing about daily life, but daily life with Noah (and my budding little flower-Mae)… a whole different story. I rarely struggle with finding words, God keeps my vessel full… perhaps too full at times. My anxiety builds, my heart races, my words need released. I want to play the role in someone else’s life that offers them hope, just as I experienced years ago. That causes a burn within my belly. This is mine. I am hungry to give back. I am eager to spread my wings in the prospects God is placing before me with my writing, career, but most importantly, within my precious family and who we can touch in this life.


III.

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Life exists on the other side of comfort. I’ll meet you on the other side.

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