Our Next Chapter

WARNING: This post is emotionally raw leaving me venerable to criticism and judgment. Some of the things I have written I am ashamed to admit much less write about and maybe I shouldn’t be sharing these inner thoughts in such a public forum, but what the hey…that is how I roll. Wide open book!

Tomorrow we lose our 24/7 nursing for Payson and panic has set in. It isn’t panic over our capability to perform the medical requirements for Payson but panic over how to do it all. I guess another word for this panic could be overwhelmed, but that word seems to be inept in describing what we truly feel. Is there even a word that can accurately articulate these overwhelming feelings? Bogged down, mired in mud, deeply burdened (I don’t like the word burden b/c it isn’t a burden), crushed by an elephant, carrying the weight of the world, heavy hearted, shaking in my boots, scared poopless, frightened and so much more come to mind, but fail to convey my internal struggle. For the life of me I can’t imagine being able to physically take care of a vent/trach baby while managing a 2 year old, 13 year olds, a home, a business and a marriage. This doesn’t even touch managing my friendships, my walk with Jesus and hanging onto family. So, far our children have had to sacrifice our time, our business has suffered because the lack of time put into it, our marriage is hanging on status quo. The only one that isn’t suffering is the physical home which needs constant attention and money, which is something we don’t have either of, but we attempt. Seriously, how can I do this? What is the best way to juggle all these responsibilities without someone or something giving out? How in the world am I going to do this?

I can’t tell you how many times people have told me, “God will never give you more than you can handle” to which I want to vomit. It sure as hell doesn’t feel as if he is giving me just my limit. Maybe people have confused limit with limitless. Can’t he see I am drowning in these consuming emotions and responsibilities? How much further can my hand reach out for help? Doesn’t he see I have had enough and that I am at my breaking point before I even begin? What do I do? One of my friends who lost her newborn son a couple of years ago once told me she’d laugh when people would tell her the above phrase, but eventually saw that God would give more than you can handle. He would do this so you would have to rely on Him. That gave me a different perspective and one that made sense. Even at that it seems too much to comprehend. Just another thing to do, another relationship needing my undivided attention, another thing that needs maintained to its fullest. Lord, why can’t this time in my life have all the other things be easy as I focus my attention on my son’s recovery? Why, must I feel pulled in millions of directions?

Scared to death and fear are the mildest of emotions. I am so fearful something is going to fall through the cracks, that someone is going to be failed by me and I will forever alter their lives, especially my kids. How do I do this? Who am I kidding, I can’t do this! Everyone thinks I am so strong to be able to do what I am doing. Do you all realize that I didn’t feel as if there was an option? Now that I know there are other options that I have considered them. I would never give up on Payson! Never! Yet, I have thought about a long term care facility for his care. What kind of mother am I to have given a “home” a second thought? As a teenager in an unwed mothers “home” I know how “homes” can be and I detest them for being sterile, isolating and non-family, (by this I mean not being in the home with your family). Knowing how much I hate these “homes” I am ashamed and embarrassed of myself for even thinking in that direction. The other night when I mentioned it to Todd I literally watched him lose respect for me as a mother, wife and human being. The shame I feel for entertaining the idea, but I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know where to turn. I don’t know what is best anymore. What is best for Payson and the family is an oxymoron at this point. Both of their needs conflict with the other causing my heart to be ripped slowly, steadily from my chest. What to do?

I know one who reads this might say, “you aren’t alone” or “it could be so much worse”. True on both accounts, but then explain why I feel as if I am the only person going through this and that I don’t feel it could get much worse. There have been many a strangers who have gone through having a trach/vented baby who have tried to reach out to me, but I find myself unable to reach back. I am too tired to reach up for help or invest in someone’s kind gesture. It goes back to feeling as if I am drowning and even though someone might be beneficial the only way not to go under is to just take care of the immediate by not reaching back (returning a phone call, email or a friendly smile). It is sad I know, but survival mode is a must right now! I am not alone, but I sure as hell feel as if I am! Does any of this even make sense? Yes, this all could be worse. I could have lost my son a dozen times over, but I didn’t and I should be rejoicing in this very real fact. Yet, somehow this ungrateful heart of mine doesn’t rejoice. I just want to see where I stand today and take credit for how much it sucks in the right here and now! It does suck and if I focus on how much worse this could be then I discount where I am now. Doesn’t make me right, but sure doesn’t make me wrong! The view from where I stand is crappy, one that tests my endurance, strength and abilities. It is a view I don’t want to look at and one that I don’t want to have to conquer to see the masterpiece right over the Mt. Everest of our lives.

As I write this my mind keeps saying over and over, I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to have to take care of Payson’s medical demands for 8 hours a day while balancing life. I don’t want to have the responsibility of being Payson’s physical/speech therapist while demonstrating patience and holding of my tongue to be his cheerleader for the little things. I don’t want to have to fight oral aversion, the basic desire of breathing, nature’s development. I don’t wanna, I just don’t want to go through this battered, beaten, bruises and worn down before beginning. Strength is something I possess, but I am incapable of having enough strength to fight this fight. I don’t have this one in me. Can I lie down yet? Do I really have to struggle to my feet every morning? Will the sweetness of life ever return? Lord, can you see me? Do you even hear me?

Dear Lord, how am I going to do this?