Ha! What a ridiculous subject title!
Well March Photo A Day Challenge is over. I did pretty well I think, only missing a couple of days when I just plum forgot. Now April has arrived, and so has the new photo challenge list from fat mum slim!
Join me, won’t you?
April 4: someone that makes me smile:
he also makes this southern woman swoon.
We have been together four years and married for less than one. Some of you may know of the terrifying news we received a few weeks ago. A lot of you know the story but I would like to vulnerably share the layers under it. This is very personal but I feel the need to share honestly about we’re going through, because this life is real and what we are going through is real.
Friday I hold one of the eight babies and dream and stir about the upcoming weekend. The chance to soak up time with my other half and fill my tank so that I can run the next week when I only have a few hours with him each night. By Friday, I’m sputtering. I remember feeling unsettled all of a sudden, so I check my purse for my phone. Missed calls. A text. It reads “Hey honey, I am on the way to the doctor’s. I accidently pricked myself with a needle at work. Call me”. I freeze. Breath is hard to find. The room whirls and closes in. I call with shaken hands. He seems so cool. So unbothered. So him. I in turn, become more me. My imagination sweeps me away and I envision the worst. I get frustrated that he seems so okay and unaware. I try my best to self soothe. I ask. I ask questions. I ask a lot of questions. He has no answers. he calms me. (so backward and selfish I think to myself) I wait. I consume myself with the babies or at least I try. I smile at them and laugh but it seems so fake and so shallow because it is. I wait to hear if the patient has HIV. Co workers assure me that it will be okay. I nod. I cringe because I know how real life can be. The phone rings. I cry. I wish I hadn’t tried to convince myself that the patient wasn’t because it made it all the more dramatic and painful that the patient was and is. I run to the bathroom and sob. Feeling more scared than I ever have. Fear didn’t creep in, it raided through setting up camp in every corner of my head and heart. I called my mom. I cried some more. She prayed. I breathed. I splashed cold water onto my blotchy, red face. I looked like hell. I felt it too. I collected myself. Went back to my babies. They smile at my arrival, not caring that I look like a crazy women. I talk with the other women, one compliments my earrings and I remember thinking how earrings were useless and stupid right now. I wanted to rip them out. Instead, I thanked the compliment and realized that she was trying to soothe and love me. He feels so far away. Like he flew to Australia and left me here. I need to see him. feel him. hear his voice in the same room. We go to lunch and I bask in his presence. The world is right again. We are together. We can rule this world. This mountain. This Hell. I ask a million more questions. I want to know not what just the doctor said but what he was like. Did he have good character? Answers are vague with no assurance. We won’t know a thing for six months. The waiting is awful. That is a long time for fear to hang around…it’s already building mansions in my mind. We have changed. Together is different. No longer can we be spontaneous or flitty. We are over cautious.We are nervous. We are fear stricken. We think I am pregnant. I wonder if this was our last shot. I take a test. I take 5 tests. 3 look positive. 3 blurry crosses. 2 vertical lines. I throw up. I wait. I really become angry at having to wait. 4 days late. 5th day I sob at the sight of hope dashed. The red reminder is so cruel. Everyone else goes about normally, while I silently scream. People celebrate their new bellies all around me. I morn the loss of hope, again. I become paralyzed, emotionless. I wander around. I sleep a lot. I cry when no one is looking. I try my hardest to be happy for others. Fear is so loud. Six months is so far away. I cling to him more than ever. We wait.