What a ride. And I don’t just mean the trip from St. Louis. I’m talking about the journey I’ve been on for the last nine months. Nine months. Twice I carried a child within me for that amount of time. I gave birth two different times with no pain medication at all and as I fought through the unbearable pain, I was sure I would never forget what that felt like. But as soon as my little ones left my body and entered this world, the pain and the memories of it evaporated. This past nine months did not bring forth another new life, but it did renew my own. It’s hard for me to comprehend how much has happened. I tried to pay attention. I’m glad I wrote it down because through so much of it I was on autopilot. Just going through the motions, working through this part to get to that one. Baby steps.
Soon I will sit down and go back through my writings. Relive it through my own words. And still there is so much I didn’t get written down. Moments come to me in a flash even now that make me smile or make me cringe. Some things hurt so bad to remember that my mind may have erased them already forever. I may never know.
I am in a state of adjustment right now I think, searching for who I was, wondering if she’s gone for good. I carry scars but I don’t know that I am scarred. I am different I think, though I’m not sure yet how.
I’ve spent this last week or so playing catch up on the things that needed to be done but that I couldn’t do being so far from home. I finished gathering my paperwork for my income taxes and tried to make sense of the piles of mail scattered throughout the house. It’s taken much of my time home so far to reacclimate myself to my own home and yet I’ve spent my nights sleeping soundly and dreamily in the comfort of my own bed.
I feel fine. I feel happy. I have moments where I think I must glow from the joy of it all.
So it was hard to explain to myself, much less Kelley, why a few nights ago I got a bit of the mopeys and found myself laying in bed early on a Friday night. It’s been a long road I’ve travelled. It’s no wonder that I might have some issues dealing with it all. I’ve spent every day for months now doing treatments, thinking of the next treatment looming, the next step to keeping the cancer at bay.
Being home should be a celebration. Instead there are times that the end of treatment sparks feelings of fear and sadness in me. Without treatment there is no fight. Now the gloves are off. I’m out of the ring and I feel as though I’m swinging blindly at an opponent that may or may not be there now.
But this morning I awoke, again grateful to be in this house, in this town, in this life. Grateful that I don’t have to do another treatment that will make me sick or tired or hurt. Grateful that in the morning when my kids wake up they see my face and hear my voice and at night they can wrap their arms around me and hug me and hear me tell them one more time how much I love them.
I’m alive and I’m excited about the opportunities that this adventure has put in my path. I’m trying to soak up what the last few months has shown me I took for granted. I’m full of new ideas, inspired to experience new things and revamp old ones.
I’m still trying to sort it out…..this gift I’ve been given. I’ve heard people say “Why do bad things happen to good people?” My question seems to be “What have I done to deserve blessings such as these?”
I still don’t get it. I’ve had no epiphany where it has been revealed to me what God’s plan is with all of this. But I’ve seen too many amazing things, too many coincidences, been blessed too many unbelievable times, not to believe that there is a reason this has all played out like it has.
I am human. I am not perfect. I won’t be skipping through town any time soon, blowing bubbles and scattering glitter.
I am just starting over. I don’t need an explanation. It’s not necessary for me to solve the mystery. I will just take this gift of life that God has given me…..
And live it.