I am a Traditionalist, Old Fashioned. I have been referred to as having 'Old Blood'(Ironic now, I know). So, you wont ever come across anything ultra-personal in my blog, just to set you at ease. The leg shaving story was about as personal as I get. With that being said, I view the bedroom as a "sacred space". Its where you let your guard down, (where, as my husband says "I solve all the worlds problems", where your heart can be open and your mind can be free.
On April 14th I spent a night cuddling in bed with my children. All of them held close, not feeling that "let your guard down" feeling, but with the feeling of something bad to come. Someone once told me (that had bad news to tell me) that when I had a bad feeling, I was strangely and usually right. Yuk! So, I held my kids tight. The next day I had my first major attack of MS and it sent me to the hospital. It severed my life, temporarily, with my children. I was their main caregiver. I put them all to sleep at night, took care of them when their dad worked days in a row, etc... I had never been away from the youngest ones. Now, I packed us all up to go on vacation, somewhere unfamiliar, and left them. Suddenly and unexpectedly. The youngest was still nursing and was used to me cuddling her to sleep every night. My son just came through a rough patch of separation anxiety with his dad and had attached himself back to me. My oldest, due to divorce and custody issues, has a difficult time in the close environment with both my husband and mother in law. The one thing you assure your kids is that you will be there for them. Ive learned, the hard way, this isn't the best idea. I didn't return back from the hospital(and still have completely not returned) for over a week. We packed up and went home. I, as my blog explained, was home but couldn't take care of them, couldn't change diapers, couldn't feed them, couldn't bathe them or put them to sleep. I was like a stranger in their house, but I assured them I was here to stay now and would get stronger every day. Back to the hospital I went, this time for even longer and farther away. So, visits weren't nearly as frequent. Mid June, I guess it was, I returned home. I was even more of a stranger. The little ones wanted nothing to do with me. They didn't want to sit with me, let me change them, pick them up, feed them, etc... When I had to put them to bed they would just cry for their dad. Well, I have been trying hard to get them back, to love them without being concerned about getting love back. I thought that was going to be a huge challenge, but when it comes to your kids, its easy. After accomplishing this, I realize that's the way you should relate to everyone in your life, to treat them with expecting nothing in return... Ive come to the realization that its not a challenge at all, its grace. It was only a few nights ago that I had to put all the kids to bed by myself. After they wound down and finally fell asleep, it was just me, laying there, in our "sacred space" with our guards let down, our hearts open. There was no one happier in the world at that moment than me. I could not ask God for one more thing, I had everything that mattered. If it weren't for my illness, I wouldn't look at this situation the same. In that way, and others, I am thankful for this illness. A few nights later, they all snuggled me and drifted off without once asking for their dad. I was all they needed. I gave them my love, unconditionally with no expectations, and I got it back. Life is funny like that, teaching us lessons in its own time.
I also got the privilege of sleeping in the same bed alone with my husband the other night. We are transitioning the kids each into their own beds. As much as he disagrees with the idea of a "family bed" that is what we have had for the last three years or so. On my part, because I think its natural. On Al's part because he falls asleep before the kids and is too tired to put them in their beds. Nonetheless, one of the things I actually miss about Yale is Al slept by my side every night. This time, though, we were in the same bed, our guard let down, hearts open. I lay awake for hours just thinking of how much it meant. I look back in the past and think of others and myself being in the position of a loved one using the words "they slept in the same bed, but nothing happened, or it meant nothing". What a wrongly absurd statement, or maybe a statement from someone with less morals, less tradition. I feel bad for them, actually, looking back. They are missing so much of what human relationships are really about and the precious moments they hold sacred.
My illness had lead me to live in the present, to listen and take to heart all the words people share with me, to not promise anything in the future. No matter how much you think something will or will not happen, the only sure things are the here and now. In part, it is heartbreaking to me that I cannot promise to my children that I will be here for them, that I'm not going anywhere.. or anything else in the future for that matter. It does, however, make this disease easier to handle. I don't get caught up in thinking what the future holds for me, that every day I have to deal with difficulty talking and swallowing, that every meal I cannot enjoy to its full extent because my tongue is half pins and needles. I think... This is what I have to deal with now. Tomorrow, maybe not. "In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps".
No comments:
Post a Comment