Having children is like having your heart outside your body – is a quote that pops to mind as I keep obsessing over my oldest.
Watching and waiting to find out if Sam has to have surgery is hard. Watching her walk around wearing her emotions on her sleeve is even more painful.
It’s a nice lesson though. For me, watching her deal with this.
The tears that well up in her eyes when we talk about the “what-ifs” sucks. I can take it in the moment but I feel like it’s weighing on me in the other quiet moments of my day.
My chest is tight, it’s hard to take a deep breath in, I have what feels like a rock in my stomach, and I feel nauseous when I think about it.
I have that pause in my mind. When I wonder what to say, what is best to do, and how to just throw a blanket on all of it and wrap it up and throw it away.
Yes, I realize this is me wanting to control the situation, make it perfect, and manage it all.
I also realize I can’t do that.
It’s a really hard feeling though.
Time is marching on and we have these appointments set up whether we want them or not. We do want to know what will be happening, we want to have the appointments, but getting everyone on the same page seems to be difficult.
It’s not even getting on the same page. It’s walking over egg shells sometimes which feels even worse.
We are almost there but will we all survive it?
I keep playing in my mind what I will do when I have to wait around for 7 hours she may be in surgery. Who I will ask to come sit with me, what music I will play, where I will go on walks. How will I survive the anxiety and panic of that electronic surgery board with the million patients numbers and progress of all the surgeries.
Versus what I will do and say in my mind if they say no surgery and I have to look over and see the tears in her eyes knowing she has to keep living with this bag, and changing it, and the bag leaking, and people asking questions.
It all seems rather hard.
And I keep doing some self care or distracting myself or talking to Sam about it to keep moving forward.
But gosh it sucks.
My body is reacting to this stress and even though I can see it coming, it’s still a burden. The lack of sleep, the stomachache, the eye strain. Can I blame all my issues on this? It would be nice.
I really hate the overthinking most of all. My brain wanders and it goes to places I don’t want it to.
Or, it goes to other fantasy lands that I have no business being in and makes other parts of my life worse. And then I sit and just think it through all over again.
And it pushes me to wonder what is the cost of all this control I’m trying to manage? I’m being so managing on this front, by trying to be so prepared, trying to protect her from harm, manage the outcome… and to what end? It’s affecting my attitude in so many other aspects.
Knowing I can’t control what happens, doesn’t make the desire to do it any less overwhelming.
And then I go into my workout, my meditation, my face mask, my… reading. Or whatever to try and anchor myself to the present moment.
I’m in such a bad mood. Needing so many things, not wanting to take them or have them… and trying to do my best.
Which is all I can do.
I should be lucky that this is not a worse outcome or surgery.
And while I am grateful it’s not cancer, it still sucks.
This is what it feels like when your heart lives outside your body: raw, vulnerable, and just incredibly hard.
