My head feels like it’s going to explode. I’m sick. I think jaden shared his strep throat with me. I’m heading to the doctor to get it checked out. I can’t miss the walk tomorrow!
I’d like to take a sick day from my day job please …. kids you are on your own. Mom has checked out. Oh to have a nap, to have a fantasia thing going on where the laundry folds itself and the dishes dance into the dishwasher. And the babies are entertained by a foot stool that turns into a puppy like character.
But the reality is harsh. I don’t have time to myself. I’m running from one meeting to the next. I’m trying to stay awake long enough to see the kids off to bed and sure enough just when I finally have the option to sleep … I’m wide awake. I know that’s what will happen tonight. I’ll be tossing and turning, arguing with myself to just go to sleep. My sinuses hurting, my neck sore with aches and pains … But wide awake.
I have to turn the monitors down just low enough so i can still hear when they cry but not every movement. Every cough, every sound of the covers or moan would make me stir. Making it impossible to fall asleep. The monitor has a sound bar that gets read when there is noise … I watch it sometimes to see if they are stirring a little. I worry when it gets suddenly quiet. The silly worries of a mother. The worries that were proven true three months ago.
Wow three and a half months. Over one hundred days. And I’m still wearing orange.
I got a packet in the mail from the SIDS association today. I don’t read the grief booklets that come in the mail. I don’t have time. Today I did. Just started to skim. A part resonated with me. Grieving parents feel like they shouldn’t let go. Like they should feel sad and heavy the rest of their lives. They want their child’s life to matter to everyone. It’s true. I want everyone to know Owen and sing his story. Live a life of hope and service because they know him. But that’s not realistic. He serves a purpose for some, heck i think I could say many. But not all. How could he?
But I feel guilty for being ok. I feel guilty for being in a stable place. Some moms I have met who have also lost children still have crazy anxiety or are crying all of the time. Yet I don’t. I’ve had a few dark nights or days … But nothing compared to some women. Shouldn’t I be stricken with sadness and unable to function?
Tomorrow will be a big day! We have a few triplet families walking with us along with a sorority sister who is driving all the way down from Wausau (4 hour drive). Wd have over 60 people on our team. When you say 60 in comparison to the 18,000 that are expect to show, we are still small. Yet I feel important. We will be owenge in the sea of white shirts. I will walk hand in hand with family and friends. I’d like to say we are wearing orange so when Owen is watching the race from the clouds he’ll be able to see his mom easily.
This one is for you chunky monkey. I hope I make you proud.