I’m a glass-half-full kind of girl. I tend to prepare myself for the rosiest of outcomes, and truly believe everything will turn out okay in the end.
My husband, on the flip side, is a “realist.” Well, that’s what he calls himself. I see him as a pessimist, but that’s because he doesn’t try to delude himself into thinking everything will work itself out. He looks at the facts, and doesn’t jump to the best possible outcome, like I do. Or did. It’s one of those things that helps us work so well as a couple.
But, I’m not that girl anymore. After a month of letdowns, of fear, of vague answers, of being ignored, of not being taken seriously, of setback after setback… I’m done. There is no more optimism left in me. I’m at the end of my rope.
The only things keeping me from crawling under the covers and letting the darkness take me over are Sydney and Jackson. Sydney needs her mom to be as normal as possible, so that her childhood isn’t scarred by this traumatic event. Luckily, it hasn’t so far. And, Jackson… well, Jackson needs to know his mom is by his side. Even if he doesn’t consciously know it, somewhere in his little brain, he registers my touch and my smell. He knows I’m here.
So, for those two reasons, I slap a smile on my face, and I keep my spot next to his crib at the hospital nice and warm. They need me. And, I need them, too.
I’m going to try to keep it up; I really am. Each day I get more worn down, especially as we discover more things about Jackson, and the longer I see him suffer. It’s physically hurting me.
And, this is not “god’s plan.” I’m not religious, but hearing that honestly causes me even more pain. To think that someone truly believes an almighty being is inflicting this kind of pain and suffering on a tiny child is beyond me, and I don’t see how it could possibly bring anyone comfort. Prayers are awesome and appreciated, but, not the “plan” stuff. Please.
I hope I find my glass half full again, soon. I hate looking at the world so negatively.
❤ I love you, Jackson.