A Mom's Aching Heart

Today I hit a brick wall.

Everything in me just came undone.

Everything.

And I know, logically I know, my son has a type of cancer that if you are going to have cancer this is the one you want.

How fucked up is that.

Because no type of cancer is good. And nobody wants cancer.

He has a 90% cure rate.

He is going to beat this.

I am staying positive and hopeful.

But for a moment… I am just human.

I am the mom who is aching for her adult son.

And it hurts in a way I can’t neatly organize or explain my way out of.

Am I going to recover from this?

Will I ever be okay again?

Right now, every cough is not just a cough.

Every time he says “Mom,” every ache, every silence my whole system wants to scream and rage.

My body reacts before my mind can even catch up.

And time doesn’t feel normal.

I can’t even fully tell what day today is.

I tried to reach out to the people who once chose me as their therapist. I thought maybe I could start again in a few weeks.

But I couldn’t do it.

I’m not ready yet.

How could I hold anyone else when I can barely hold myself right now.

And I know, if it were me, I would see this so differently.

I would experience this differently.

Maybe I would feel more in control even though I’m not.

My nervous system would protect me and I could use those obnoxious sayings I used to use all the time, turning pain into purpose, or the worst one yet, God has a plan in this or everything happens for a reason. I hate those sayings and yet I know I catch myself still saying them at times.

I do feel God within me.

But I don’t believe this is God’s divine plan.

I don’t think a loving God would do this.

I don’t know why this is happening and that’s the sucky thing. There is no answer.

Yes I would be sad.

 I still wouldn’t want cancer.

Nobody does.

But I’m 51 years old, even though I pray and hope I get to live to see my kids grow old and have families one day if they choose. I’ve lived half my life. I’ve been through some shit. I can handle this.

But it’s not me.

It’s my son. And he is not a child but he is still my child. And that is where I am getting stuck.

Because I am trying to figure out something I do not have a map for.

What is my role in this?

How do I love him in a way that does not take over, does not shrink him, does not turn into fear or control and also does not turn into me disappearing?

How do I stay his mom without trying to carry what I cannot carry for him?

And I do not even know the answer today.

I just know I love him.

And I am scared.

And I am trying not to let the fear run everything.

And the fact that he still lets me in, still lets me be close, still lets me help that means more than I can explain.

And still I know I am not alone in this.

So many people did not get this diagnosis.

They were not as lucky.

And my heart breaks with theirs too.

Right now I am just trying to stay here.

Being honest.

Being real.

Being confused.

Being sad.

Being angry.

And it’s okay to have days where we are not okay.

It doesn’t mean we don’t have joy, hope, or gratitude. It just means we are human.

And life is really beautiful and really brutal at the same time.

( He had his 3rd infusion today...5 more to go!)