Tuesday, June 9, 2015

to a mother with a sick child...

Dear Mother,
What is that feeling called? The one where your stomach feels like an empty pit and your legs feel weak and your ears ring with the intensity of...something. 
Those moments in the middle of night, no one is awake, when you sit there at the edge of the bed and you pray and you plead and you resign yourself to whatever comes only to resume that same pleading a moment later.
And you feel so alone. 
So helpless.
That moment when you hum or sing a song, the one that is meant for him but really it fills that emptiness and that silence in the dead of night.  
And the song becomes a constant reminder of that moment again and again and again.
That feeling of despair.
That feeling of hopelessness. Of guilt.
When you gain the courage to try to sleep but all you hear is the screaming silence, the voices and the noises. But there is nothing there.
So, the floor at the foot of the bed is better. 
Until the silence screams again and you're not sure if you heard something or you didn't. 
Did he call for me this time? 
And cross-legged at the side of the bed is the only way, again.
But you knew that.
You can reach out and hold a little foot or a knee or a hand.
That feeling when you wait and you wait and you wait for the morning to see, will it be today?
Please let it be today.
And when you see that smile, finally that smile, your heart breaks again with joy and thankfulness and love,
and always that little twinge of fear creeps in.
What is that feeling called? 
The one where your heart is filled with joy and fear at the same time. 
What is that feeling called?
The one where you would give anything to take away the pain. To ease his suffering or his worry or his restlessness. Or your own worry.
What is that feeling called?
The one filled with fear and helplessness and guilt, always guilt.
And always love. And always joy, intermingled with worry.
Is it called being a Mother?

From, One who knows.

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