I Cannot Break

I am writing this through tears. I am in an unconscionable amount of physical pain. Today alone, the pain has been so severe that I have vomited, fainted, and then fainted after I've vomited.

Something is wrong with me.

I cannot break. 

I am mom to Morgan and Bay. I am Mom. I am wife to Thomas. I am the axis upon which their world spins. But something is not right.

I am in pain. A lot of pain.

I cannot break.

I was promised relief three years ago when they made me less than a woman, when I had "everything" that makes me a woman taken away. I wasn't okay with this, but I did it to watch my boys grow. To grow old with my husband. And now, it seems, one of those monsters is back. And it feels like it is eating me alive.

I'm so mad. 

The past 72 hours or more have been pure hell. I can't eat. I can barely sleep. It hurts to actually laugh. I'm scared to walk outside and I refuse to drive because I might lose consciousness.

I cannot break. 

I am in a lot of pain.

My kids are scared, very scared. I keep explaining that Mom can't die, that I just need rest. But how does it look to them, at the ages of eight and five, to see their mom passed out on the floor? To find me vomiting? To see me on my hands and knees, crying, and begging God to please take away my pain?  To see their mother crying uncontrollably because she just can't escape the hell that is her own body?

They've seen me sick too many times. This isn't right. No child should have to experience seeing their mother in a hospital. This time is different than the others, but they are older now. They remember last year. They know that when Mommy is feeling really awful, things aren't good. They are anxious.

I say I cannot break, but I feel so broken. 

I'm so angry at my body. And hurt. Why would it do this?

I have an amazing support system, both virtually and in real life, I've discovered. When I was in the ER last Sunday, I kept getting texts from people I've never met in my life. Yet, these people cared enough to ask how I was doing, how the kids were, how Thomas was handling things. If you're reading this, please know that there will never be enough "thank yous" to express the amount of gratitude I have for your act of kindness.

I can't break any more than I already have. 

I feel, right now, like there isn't much left to break.

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