It’s strange how the big, seemingly traumatic things aren’t really the worst part. Surgery? Bearable. Two tubes stitched into my chest? Fine. The looming inevitability of chemo? Ok. Watching my family’s hearts break as they sit in the center of this storm? Gut wrenching.
I’m the mother. The one who cuddles, soothes and sings the worries away and now I’m also the one who brings these worries on. I know it’s not my fault, I know I didn’t make a mistake to cause this, but it’s heartbreaking to see their faces and know that this is happening to them. I wish I could just wave a magic wand and free them from this nightmare. But then, that’s the lovely thing about family; they choose to be here, in this. They get up everyday and hold my hand, and join me in this horrific reality; by choice. I am so truly blessed.