you can do this, even when you think you cannot

i feel compelled to tell Barbz, the author of Barbz Virtual Window, "you can do this". i know she can, and she already is, but sometimes it helps to see it in print or hear it from someone else.

the same day that she wrote the post that i linked to above, where she titled her post, "another horrific week" i was having one too. worry and angst, sleepless nights and then the dreaded phone call.
--

sunday the 25th of october. i had received a phone call just after 9pm on saturday the 24th, which resulted in driving and looking for my daughter. she could not remember her name and was lost for 7 hours. (the care facility would not call police, at least they called me---3 hours after they noticed she was missing--) then i waited in the ER with her after she was found at midnight while they medically and psychologically assessed her. by the time the ambulance drove her back to the psych hospital she had discharged from on the 20th, it was 2pm on sunday the 25th when i arrived home. i slept a few hours and then went to bed for good for at least 16 hours longer.

--

time passes so fast

Barbz posted a beautiful photo of her granddaughter today. remembering times gone by, and memories that were lovely and now distant.

this is a photo of my youngest daughter with me at christmas when she was 2 years old.

--
time passes very slowly

when we struggle as mothers to find our way in acceptance of the life changes that happen to a child. grown adults or not, as mothers, our hearts and memories are filled with their faces, their voices, and times gone by. most likely, these memories would be OK any other time.

but, when facing a reality that the child has been changed forever as a result of an illness or tragedy, --well something changes inside of us. i feel i can say, it is a necessary mourning of a child and part of the healing to move forward so we can function as a person again, and truly accept them for who they are at the present time.
--
"i can't do this", i said to a hospital social worker in 1999.

"you already are".

those words were very powerful back then, and i've never forgotten them.
--
sending peace and strength to those who need it. i know what it is like to get up, get dressed, drive and keep going.

we can do this, because we already are.