2hours...and counting..

We just got an update that everything is going as planned.     It was an emotional drive in this morning.  Seeing those big baby-blues in my rear view mirror made it literally painful to aim the car toward the hospital.  It was an awkward internal battle where instincts were tell me turn the car around and drive the other way.  It was not a "gut feeling" that something was going to go wrong. It was an instinctual feeling that you must protect your child from danger.  From being cut in to.  From rolling the dice and gambling on statistics.   As much as I know she needs this, and I know she will be fine and strong and brave and that this is the best thing for her,  there is still that risk involved. And I do not like gambling those blue eyes.    For as long as possible I had (dad writing) put off the imagery of Anya on the OR table; as it was just too much.  I have no problem with the "gore" of it all, but when it is my cute, adorable, Innocent, loving, happy, little princess, that's a totally different story...  It didn't really hit me until I was simply trying to pick out her cloths this morning... when you think about what to wear, what's going on today.. what does she need to be prepared for...  For Anya on any other day the decision is based on whether or not she is looking sick, if she has PT that day, if we are going anywhere, if it's cold out.  This morning's decision inadvertently brought on all those other IF's or rather the "What if's".  So I took my little 30 second breakdown, shook it off and grabbed something comfortable for her to wear.  I stopped thinking about it (pretty much) and decided to lay back and trust God on this one.