I wrote this the last day we were in the hospital, but I’ve held on to it for a few days. Held it close, but I think it’s something that needs to be said…to be heard.
I spoke to a dear friend on the phone yesterday and she came to see us in the hospital. She told me that were she in my shoes, she’d be a puddle on the floor (rather than the “Super Woman” everyone seems to think I’ve been through this).
My response was, “I don’t have a choice.”
I don’t have that luxury.
Perhaps, if I stopped to take in everything that has happened and is happening to our family and our little Hope, I would be a huddled mass on the floor. In fact, I know I would be. But I don’t have time for that. I have a 12 week old, 6.5 lb baby girl with a laundry list of problems to take care of. To speak for. To fight for.
Falling apart is not an option right now. Maybe there will be time for that later, but for now, I have to be what she cannot be. I have to be her voice.
With the news we have gotten today, not falling apart is getting increasingly more difficult. My body is tired. My mind is tired. My spirit is tired. I feel everything and nothing. It’s all I can do to not lose it. To cry. To scream. To throw things. To yell, “It’s not fair!” To just check out.
But falling apart is not an option.
If I fall apart, I may not be able to put the pieces together again.