While the husband was on vacation last week we tried to fit in a lot of good fun things to cherish as memories instead of the bad things that seem to plague our days more often then naught lately. We went to the beach, and the lake. Went to the Pork feed after our fair was done. We went out on a couple of dates, kid-less.
While they were fun and great times away, we always had to come back and face the music of what being home finally meant; owning up to the fact that little man is not getting better.
We could run away all we wanted, but at the end of the day, we needed to stay near by so he could go to therapy and see all his nine hundred doctors and therapists.
But it's always nice to escape the heat, and go some where just a tad bit cooler even if for a few hours. We can pretend both are children are normal, and we aren't drowning in medical debt, and medical mumbo jumbo. That our son isn't a classification, but a healthy, happy 9 month old.
This week we have been off and running going on four days solid now. I'm tired. In about six billion different ways. Date nights are nice, and a few hours solitude in my bedroom are relaxing, and as much as I want a friend I sit and cry to, there just isn't. So this is me crying; to a blog on a computer screen, and in a few minutes I'm going to post it out there for the world of people who know me personally, and a few that don't will see exactly my thoughts. No advice needed, no comforting needed. I have a family who does that plenty. I just want someone to listen, pat me on the back while I bawl, and pretend they can understand every word out of my mouth as I attempt to talk. Because when I cry its a bit of a jumble.
While they were fun and great times away, we always had to come back and face the music of what being home finally meant; owning up to the fact that little man is not getting better.
We could run away all we wanted, but at the end of the day, we needed to stay near by so he could go to therapy and see all his nine hundred doctors and therapists.
But it's always nice to escape the heat, and go some where just a tad bit cooler even if for a few hours. We can pretend both are children are normal, and we aren't drowning in medical debt, and medical mumbo jumbo. That our son isn't a classification, but a healthy, happy 9 month old.
This week we have been off and running going on four days solid now. I'm tired. In about six billion different ways. Date nights are nice, and a few hours solitude in my bedroom are relaxing, and as much as I want a friend I sit and cry to, there just isn't. So this is me crying; to a blog on a computer screen, and in a few minutes I'm going to post it out there for the world of people who know me personally, and a few that don't will see exactly my thoughts. No advice needed, no comforting needed. I have a family who does that plenty. I just want someone to listen, pat me on the back while I bawl, and pretend they can understand every word out of my mouth as I attempt to talk. Because when I cry its a bit of a jumble.
No comments:
Post a Comment