No one told me

Good things scare the holy living hell out of me. Bad things seem par for the course. In an emergency I function fine, well in fact. In an emergency I kick ass.

When my rainbow was born premature I was all business. Six hours after his birth I was standing next to his bed in the NICU in another city throwing a barrage of questions at his doctor. I didn't crash until he came home.

When I had to epipen my eldest and spend the night calming him in the hospital I rocked. 

But give me birthdays, milestones, accomplishments, happiness and everything crumbles. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to handle the fear that a day playing at the park spells immanent death for one of my children. I don't know what to do with my fervent resistance to accepting moments of peace because I will pay for them so dearly.

C.S Lewis wrote that no one told him grief felt so much like fear. I think grief feels so much like fear because death leaves behind the enduringly cold shadow of fear. It takes away the illusion of safely and forces the bereaved to perpetually grapple with an exposed reality and I have no idea what to do about it.

Until next time...