Wednesday, May 23, 2018

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine

I've spent some time over the past couple weeks reading through old blog posts. The lazy days with David and Kate spent coloring and reading and exploring and helping to develop them into the humans, on the cusp of something more, that they are today. I miss those times. Of course, I do. The snuggles and sweet voices, the love and care that poured from every inch of me into them.

And, I miss it. Of course, I do.

But, I also love where they are now. Those human people they are becoming - curious and kind, struggling and striving and learning, on the cusp of something more. And, while I am still a part of that, it's not quite the same as when I wrote years ago about our long days together before school and sports and friends.

And, of course, I miss it.

But, when I read those old posts, I hear a different voice. Someone confident, someone sure - a mother, a wife, struggling and striving and learning. I hear it. I hear her, the strength and determination. And, I know that it's me, but somehow she became lost in the shuffle, on the cusp of something more.

The kids left for school hours ago and I'm sitting on the couch, still in my pajamas. There are dishes and laundry and things to be done. But, I don't feel like doing them. I hear that too. The laziness and boredom, the uncertainty of not knowing where I start and end when I'm not making lunches or driving someone somewhere.

I've been sick this winter. It seems both an inadequate and overly dramatic phrase to explain it that way. It was more then the flu, that turned into a respiratory infection, that turned into something, well, more. I now know what it's like to wait for results of an MRI after hearing the words brain and lesion uttered in the same sentence. But, I also know the relief that comes when your doctor reads you a report over the phone that states that there were no acute abnormalities detected. And, I also know that not everyone has that same relief.

Best guess? I am having a non-specific immune response to a viral infection that targeted my central nervous system. Some days, it just feels like doctor speak for "we have no fucking clue."

Sigh. I will not bore you with a post that waxes poetic about some new found lease on life. I get that I'm #blessed.

But, there were moments when illness and doubt and frustration and exhaustion threatened to sink me in tears I just couldn't stop. I hear that voice too. I hear her, the sadness and hope. And, know that she's me too.

I don't like grilled cheese sandwiches. Or that whiny brat, Caillou. I despise girly pre-teen chapter books about fairies and caring for dogs. I love listening and singing along to Abbey Road with Kate. And, when David starts humming "everything is going to be all right" from the back seat of the car. I love the bakery counter at Leo's. And when Mike asks "what should our adventure be today."

I can hear it. All of it. All of me. The wife and the mother, struggling and striving and learning. But, more too. The woman who is that wife and mother, friend and sister and daughter. I hear her. I hear her. I hear me, the confidence and the hope, the sadness and strength, just waiting in the midst of something more.