Which Life?

If only I could take them with me.

When I lie in bed every weekend morning, it's not laziness. It's living.

My life, the real one, is impotent. It involves lots of discomfort, pain, sitting, and reading or online shopping—don't tell my husband about that last part, although he's mostly aware of the capacity of it. 

There are interesting parts, sure. Like the moments of being dog-piled by my three beautiful daughters who love every minute of smothering me with their knees, elbows, and affections. Then when they leave, I secretly dash off into my bedroom, curl up in a ball and scream into the pillow in agony.

It's worth it, though. I want them to remember those bits of fun, not that Mommy couldn't go outside or couldn't play or couldn't… 

They'll remember that period of amusement, just like I remember them with my own mother.

Even if it is killing me, it's worth it. It's worth it for all of us, I think.

Although I'm the one who physically suffers, I know what it's like to love someone so deeply, yet they're never going to be back the way they were when they were healthy. It's almost as agonizing as the actual pain.

To love someone and not be able to help them do anything to relieve or lighten their misery. To watch them writhe and scream out and lose hope in everything as the promise of a full recovery becomes bleak.

But the dreams replenish that hope. I go on exotic vacations and have adventurous yet lovely sex with my husband in my dreams.

None of it hurts me.

I'm outside in the sun, lounging on a beach—not sure where, just a beach with white sands and rolling waves—accompanied by my love. It's probably St. Pete Beach, where I grew up. Back when I could still go outside and only get a bad sunburn—before the sun felt like millions of needles on my flesh, before it blisters and breaks. 

I'm in the pool playing water volleyball with my momentarily teenaged daughters. We're laughing and playing, and it's all neatly delivered to me in old-fashioned clips from a longer, less interesting version. One that hasn't happened yet, but it's possible now.

It's possible in my head.

I'm living. I'm living well with my family. 

And that's something worth fighting for.

You'll Also Like
I'm Sara. Mompreneur of 3, wife to super-awesome Brian, business coach, infopreneur and printable product creator.