Tuesday, October 18, 2016

When Time Stops

Sometimes time stands still for me.

It will occur in a moment where I am doing something very random - then suddenly I see the distinct curvature of her back - and I am hit with the "what if's" - the "I missed somethings".

Or I'll catch a glimpse of her zipper scar, the difference in the color of the skin compared to the perfection that surrounds such an agonizing scar.

Time stands still. I see my life flash before my eyes.

I worked too much.

I should've forced her to wear the brace - even though her ever changing abdominal distention would've made it horribly painful for her.

I remember those two beers I had 2 weeks before I found out I was pregnant with her. - Did I cause this?

You'd think I'd be far over this by now - she's going on 10.

Truth is - it just doesn't happen as often.

But those memories - those feelings of guilt or regret - they never go away when you have a child like my Alex. You will spend the rest of your life second guessing every move you make in regards to their care.

You've been entrusted with the survival of this child - and haven't we all? We all are responsible for our children's survival - be them sick or not - but this is a special kind of survival.

I don't even have the word to describe it. But if you live this life you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about.

It's like this - you know your their Mother but your first and foremost their doctor. No I am not kidding. I am first and foremost her doctor. I had to be. I've learned the ability to diagnose her - with about a 95% accuracy - even with an ear infection. How? Because I had to. I prescribe the treatment, sign the papers allowing the treatment, just other people who learned how to cut do the physical work of it.

I have often longed to just be her 'Mother'. I'll never just be her Mother.

And after a decade of doing this I can tell you this one thing.

Even though you feel time stops (and it kinda does - spend some time in a pediatric ICU unit - You'll find out) - Life Goes On.

She goes on. I go on.

Once that surgery is over, you'll go home, they'll grow, and there will be instants of time that stand on the edge of a knife that remind you of that moment you handed your baby over to some dude in a lab coat who's going to cut open their chest and reroute their heart and it's vessels plumbing.

Another surgery will come, you'll exist in fear for appointments. Always waiting for the shoe to drop.

But LIFE will go on.

And before you know it - they're 9 going on 10 - with a 50° degree scoliosis curve, a shotty liver and jumping on couches like they don't have half a heart.

So I urge you to remember in those moments that time stops to remember the first laugh, or first roll over, or their first tooth falling out.

Remember the first time they turned purple as all get out yet ran back to you like it was nothing for them.

Remember those moments and remember that life will move on.

Saturday, October 1, 2016

The Witching Hour

Darkened shadows dance across the inside of my eyelids
Lightning strikes and renders me helpless
The Witching Hour has come and I am the subject of her misery

Awoken from the depths of slumber
The fire in my eyeball sparks every synapse to scream
I am caught between the living and the dead
Unaware of the light of dreams

Ice picks now
Deep thrusts against the soft matter of my brain
I'm all alone now
I want to scream but nothing works
I have become prisoner in my own body

The Witching Hour leaves me as quickly as she came
Yet leaving the Devil's mark on me
Damned to suffer her tortuous love

I sit and stare at the face in the mirror
Eyes black like death
She's taken it all from me
I am lost in the abyss of pain
Ever anxious of the next time her cold hand of pain comes to visit me

Sweetly I am taken off by the pharma nectar that flows through my veins
The oxygen of life taking me ever higher to avoid her touch again

I cannot be free
I cannot be safe
I cannot be trusted
I cannot be loved

Loved only by The Witching Hour
Who removes me from the true loves of my life
Claiming me as hers

I am deeply within her darkness
Escape is futile
I begin to love her back for her painful touches
Becoming less human and more unhuman with every breath

The Witching Hour has consumed me
And I am lost in the exquisite perfection of her painful touch.....