I have had a couple of days to process all of this.
I am still upset.
I am still on the verge of tears at any given moment.
I still do not understand.
My primary care doctor called me Thursday night after I got home and literally said, “I have no idea… I am going to have to think on it and call you back…”
I know he meant it honestly, but that sentence has not stopped echoing in my head. The silence after it. The questions. The why’s. And the tears. The heavy tears.
I feel so invalidated… so full of grief.
I just want an end to this pain.
I grieve because no matter how much I try not to, it spills onto my family. Maybe not always directly… but it does. Because all I want to do is be in bed. That is the only place that even remotely eases the pain.
And I sit here and I think… and think… and think…
My kids do not understand why Mom is so grouchy, no matter how I try to explain. They do not understand why I am so short… why I am so easily set off. They just see that I am different and tired and not fun, and I hate that for them.
I just want a freaking break.
I say that over and over in my head, but it feels like it will never happen. No matter where I am or what I am doing, there is no off switch. There is no quiet. My body hurts and my mind runs… endlessly… down rabbit holes. One thought leads to the next and the next and the next.
I lay in bed and plead and pray to God…
Please give me the wisdom… the courage… the strength to continue.
I know I have the willpower. I know I will not give up. I know I will keep going. But I pray I can do it with grace.
I want my kids to remember a mom who kept going even when life was at its hardest.
When no one could truly see how hard it had become.
I want them to remember a mom who kept going with grace… with the same giving passion I have always tried so hard to carry. Not a perfect mom. Not a pain free mom. Just a mom who kept showing up.
I wish this season would end. I really do.
But I know, deep down, it is all in God’s timing.
I feel so incredibly lonely in the waiting.
I know I have my little family… blood or not… and I am so thankful for them. But that does not erase the longing for comfort from the specific people you wish would show up. The ones you wish would call. The ones you still quietly hope might see how hard this really is.
I pray my kids see how hard I tried… even when I yelled when I should not have… even when I got upset over something so small it did not deserve the reaction it got.
My sweet babies… Momma is trying so hard.
All of this is for you.
I want to be strong for you so that you can carry that strength long after I am gone… when I am just a faded picture hanging in the hall… a story you tell your own children about how your mom kept going when life kept knocking her down.
God is my anchor.
I know He already has this all planned out… from the moment I was conceived to the moment I take my last breath. We never know when that time will be… but I pray that when my time comes, I leave a legacy of love and tenderness.
I pray that when my girls and my husband remember me, they remember to turn to God. Because when everything else in this world is crashing down, He is the only one who will hold you up. The never ending peace to lean on when nothing else makes sense.
I love my family… the family I have worked so incredibly hard to find and to keep building.
Even in this season of pain and questions and “I have no idea…”, they are my reason. And with God as my anchor, I will keep going. One breath, one tear, one prayer at a time.
