so you're seven. and it's not fair. as much as i enjoy watching you grow up, i secretly wish you'd stay a little girl forever. sometimes i can barely remember you at two. i want to stop the clock and savor each moment a little longer. each day you remind me to relax, sit back and enjoy the moment. not necessarily in those words - but by your actions. the other day i wasn't quite convinced you were seven, so i asked you your age. and you confirmed it, aged seven. you are now the age i remember being. and it makes me strive to be even better. i always want you to remember me as a good, patient, kind and even mama. sometimes i totally lack the patience part. you remind me everyday to practice it. and i am listening.
sitting here feeling helpless. listening to the ticks, hisses and beeps of machines.
my head is pounding.
perhaps from the giant 7pm coffee run.
the arenaline rush of just get there...
rethinking the day i don't even remember driving to the hospital.
sergio woke me up - 'your dad called - your mom is at the hospital.'
i heard him.
but i made him repeat it.
i know what he said but i hoped when he spoke again something totally different was going to come out of his mouth.
no such luck.
i remember asking for coffee.
rolling out of bed.
picking up a pair of dirty pants from the floor. yesterdays wardrobe. reworn.
no shame is wearing the tshirt from bed the night before.
i can only tell myself she will be ok.
crying, pain and vomitting of today is enough. she's had enough. she doesn't need more.
i don't dare let myself think otherwise.
i think she is scared. she is tired. she wants me to go home.
i didn't want to.
doesn't she know se is the most important persone to me?
i want to be the one to hold her hand.
quell her worries.
tell her it'll be ok.
i promised her tomorrow will be better.
i'll be pissed if it isn't.
so i send it out to the universe to will it to be.
tomorrow will be better.
i told sergio today was the worst day of my life.
in hindsight if today is the worst - then i'll take it.
holding her hand, stroking her arm, wiping her mouth, helping her change, proppering her knees, massaging her lefg, making sure she had a straw to sip water and knowing those tylenol horse pills would have to be cut in half - she doesn't know it yet - but she needs me.
she needs her rest.
per sergio i need my rest.
but i am up.
just listening to her sleep.
my ears open for any signs or sounds of wincing.
that was the worst.
seeing her in pain. it kills me.
hearing the words mass, abnormal, test for cancer, do not resuscitate.
i fel like we were in the twilight zone.
she looks peaceful sleeping.
hoping tonights peacefulness rolls over into tomorrow.
she is my joy.
she is my sunshine.
she is my everything.
and until we figure this out we can be warriors side by side.