The old adage “time heals all wounds” doesn’t always stack up in my experience. Sure, the statement may be true for some types of wounds. You may break a bone, skin a knee, or cut your finger. Time heals those wounds. Some emotional wounds can also be healed. Like breaking up with your first boyfriend, being cheated on, or getting you feelings hurt in an argument. As humans, we experience these wounds a lot. We learn from them, they are natural, and they mature you. But the hurt disappears with time. And we can usually see the bright side of what happened, eventually.
I am convinced life also presents wounds that are more permanent. Wounds that form debilitating scars. You are deformed into an unrecognizable version of yourself. Scars that form, that you try to hide because having them makes life difficult to maneuver at times. Where people whisper and say “look at her scars… I wonder what happened”.
People who carry these scars get pretty good at hiding them. The damage was caused by many different types of pain. Personally, my scar is pretty deep. Today marks two years that Morgan went home to be with Jesus. This day, the fact it comes each year, picks at the scab. It’s a day that no parent, who has lost their child, looks forward to. Not that it is a “reminder” (every day is a reminder that Morgan isn’t here) but it is a day that carries so much pain. So much suffering for our family. And so much heartache.
There is no band-aid. No medication. No cure.
Loving a child that is not with you comes with so many conflicting feelings. Never before have I been able to experience such intense pain and suffering, but at the same time be able to experience joy. It is unbelievable, the mixing of emotions. Life is no longer black and white, but a series of gray, black, pink, orange, white and neon blue. Sometimes I think if a “normal” person could hear what I’m thinking most of the day, they would likely recommend I be committed to a mental institution. The roller coaster of emotions changes instantly – and sometimes the highs and lows come at exactly the same time. It is exhausting.
And that is what I am. Exhausted. For so many reasons. Emotionally drained and physically tired. It doesn’t help that Danielle, over the last 3 weeks, has been sick. The last 2 weeks she has not been sleeping well… and the last wee she has been essentially keeping me up all night with her cough. It got so bad on the 6th that I took her to the ER in the middle of the night. I could not stomach the thought of going to the ER where Morgan was taken in the ambulance – so I drove the extra 15 miles down to Huntersville. It didn’t matter… it was still pretty anxiety inducing. Turns out all ER’s have very similar look and set up.
Danielle was deemed to be ok, but not before I lost it in front of the Doctor telling him that I’ve already lost one child and I am pretty paranoid that she is going to cough herself to death. He was very sympathetic. I’m sure he sees this stuff all day long, and I’m sure I was labeled that paranoid mama with the child who has a regular upper respiratory infection.
But that doesn’t matter to me – I would rather be the crazy person this time around who pushes for her child’s treatment because something “feels” wrong. Because we didn’t do it with Morgan. We should have. And we lost her because of it.
2 years without her. How does the world keep spinning? I don’t want it to sometimes. I want it to stop for just a day so I can just sit down, not think about anyone else but her and feel sad. I haven’t been able to do that for 2 years. It is likely better that I don’t – because I don’t know if I would be able to pull out of it at all.
Love you munchkin- miss you like crazy :-(.