Warning: you are about to encounter a barrage of pity. You can choose to skip this post. I would. It's most likely full of grammatical errors and to be frank, I find the writing a bit piss poor and self indulgent. But sometimes it's less about the fashion of writing and more about its function. So this blog is supposed to be part of my therapy. And I would assume that that would mean I should be brutally honest. Well, today sucks. I'm not looking for words of encouragement today. I just need to tell you how bad it sucks. Life being unfair is an understatement right now. I'm lying here with Sam and I don't know what the future holds for me or for her or for anybody and I'm really really angry. What sparked this anger was looking at her face. With my other two could kids it felt like I had centuries to study every single line on their faces and every single way the light hit their cheekbones or their eyelids or their chins. This time around, it's somebody else looking at her. Somebody else is staying up with her at night. Somebody else is getting her through fussy nights with gas and constipation. I'm not complaining because everyone that's helping is doing a wonderful job but I feel like I'm missing my right arm. My motherhood has been amputated and it's not just with her either. There's nothing worse than having to say "have a good day. I love you" from your bed every single morning to your other kids. I should be up and running with them. And I probably could muster through it, but then am I just making myself worse? I just feel like this is some horrible waiting game and I just want it to end. But this thing has just begun for me. Another round of chemo is heading my way. 4 more sessions taking up my entire family's summer and then what? I think of all the people that have been dealing with this for years. Have I been so naïve to their struggle? I feel like an idiot.
But what's spurring the pity party today is the beauty of life itself. I just don't get how the most horrific of things could be intertwined with the most beautiful of things. That's what I think is just shit. I'm given the ability to have a child and yet my body starts dying around it. It doesn't make any sense. I know a lot of you believe that God gives you only what you can handle but I've never been a believer in that. I already thought I was done with all my struggles and my losses in life. I used those to shape myself into the teacher and mother and wife that I am today. I really didn't think I needed anymore. I guess I believe in the randomness of life and that can be a really good thing and a really bad thing too. So today I feel a little helpless and angry and I'm throwing a bit of a pity party and it's okay. Somebody else can go out there today and be positive and supportive and make change. Right now I need to get my shit together. This is one of those seldom moments that I am home alone and I was able to totally lose it. Well, Sam is here. I hope she doesn't tell anybody what a big crybaby I am and that I let boogers stream down my face and maybe a little got onto her.
So what now?
Now, I suck it up again.
I'm going to allow myself a little bit more crying time and then I'm going to put Sam in front of her nursery window and take in the amazing wisps of color in her eyes. I'll still be angry. There's no way around it. But it will fade. I'll inhale her formula-stained neck and swear that somehow it's a cure for cancer. And then the house will fill up again. I'll try to feel better than I really do. Push back the tears and anger and pity and hold a surface conversation about diapers or the Yankees. God, we are such strange creatures. Not one of us can ever really stay in a moment of true beauty or true horror for too long. We shut down. We get distracted. We force ourselves to move on.
Well, that was my moment.
I'm moving on now.