Day 2: Numbness

Today has been weird. I feel incredibly numb and emotionless. That's not like me. I assume this is some sort protective mechanism inside my body right now.

Not that I haven't had moments of complete despair...like in the shower. But for the most part, my brain is just spinning and spinning and spinning and I can't keep up with it all and I just end up sort of numb.

What I'm trying to deal with right now is the idea that I can't be happy. That I can't enjoy normal daily stuff because my mom is dying. When I feel myself smile, I feel immediate guilt. I know, rationally, that it's okay to be happy. I know that my mom certainly wouldn't want me miserable every minute of the day. But the other side of my head has a physical reaction to happiness or even the feeling of being content right now.

It's the weekend. It's time to relax and enjoy some quiet time. But I don't want to enjoy anything. Hello! My mom is dying! That's the message that keeps repeating itself in my head. Again, rationally I get that this isn't the way it has to be. It's just that the rational side of me isn't working all that well right now. Even sleeping last night felt like it was wrong. As though I shouldn't even sleep right now. Again, irrational...but that's what I am right now, apparently.

Tomorrow I get to see my mom though. That will be good. I need that. Although I don't pretend to think that it won't be hard too. Some hard decisions need to start happening and I'm not sure I'm ready for them. But I also know that I don't really have much choice in the matter.

Today, I also found myself buying books off of ebay that have to do with daughters losing their mothers. I guess that's part of my grief process. I need to read about others' stories.

And again, today, I am SO thankful for my friends. Steph, thank you SO much for sitting and listening to me spew today for 2 1/2 hours. When I woke up this morning, I didn't want to do anything or see anyone. But knowing we had a coffee date got me going and out of my pajamas. And just talking helped so much. Julie & Shannon, thank you for letting me talk your ear off on the phone. To my Facebook friends, thank you for your comments and messages and prayers and virtual hugs. Kiersten, my wonderful SIL...I love you so much and I know you're doing your own grieving. I am so thankful to have you in my life and in my family and know that we will lean on each other a lot over the coming months. And I'm so glad that you're there for my brother. I'm so incredibly grateful for that! And Olly, thank you for loving me. That's truly all I need you to do. I know you can't fix this. And I know I'm hard to be around right now. I can't promise that I'll figure this out anytime soon. And I can't promise that I won't push you away now and then, but I love you and am so glad you're in my life and will walk down this very scary and dark path with me.

And I'm probably forgetting people. For that I'm sorry because I do appreciate each and every one of you. I have never been someone who is good at asking for help. I help other people. That's what I do for a living. But right now in my life, I really NEED people. So, thank you to all of you who are saying prayers and keeping me and my family in your thoughts. It means more than I could ever say.

It's really only been 26 hours since the cancer diagnosis, but it seems like SO much longer. I feel like I've lived a lifetime in those 26 hours. And this is just the beginning. I feel like the world is a completely different place. I feel as though I'm walking around in a fog. I wonder when that will change? I wonder when the fog will clear...even a little.

Thankfully I have a career I love and I believe will be good for me throughout this journey. It will give me time to get out of the fog now and then as I help guide other families through birth. All the while walking my own path through death in my family. It is the circle of life after all. My new nephew will be here in a little over 2 months. My own family is dealing with our own circle of life. I so want my mom to be here for that birth. I want her to meet her new grandson. And I want my own boys to have as much time with their Nana as possible.

So, part of me is tired of the numbness already. But the other part of me knows that the opposite of this numbness is pain. And I know my body is trying to push that down with it's own little numbing technique. But it can't hold away the pain forever. It will come. I'm sure some of it will be tomorrow. But I hope tomorrow will include some laughter as well. I want my mom to laugh a lot. And I want to laugh with her. Those are the memories I'll carry forever.

I've survived the first full day. Right now, that is a small accomplishment that I'll take. One day at a time. One hour at a time. One moment at a time. That's all I can really expect from myself right now.