Life is about seasons.  We’re in a difficult one. Likely not the hardest season we’ll endure together, but one that is testing us – challenging us in ways we weren’t necessarily prepared for.

I’d qualify the occasional pedicure, date night out, yoga class or workout as self care.  They allow you to relax, recharge, reconnect, restore.  We need all of that right now, but we also need stability, permission to let go of things, and the ability to let people in for support in ways we’re not accustomed to.  And we need to love ourselves and each other through the hard. 

We’re home and healing from a traumatic 48-hour ordeal with Max over the weekend, finding comfort in being in our own space and loved and cared for by family and friends.  We’re clinging to the familiarity of our routine and allowing ourselves to slowly come down from the chaos by resting and restoring any order that we can.  The further out we get, the more manageable things feel.

We’re really cognizant of needing to process all that has taken place so we can free up the mental capacity needed to wrap our minds around what’s next (thank you, therapy!).  That process, however, is slow which isn’t how I typically operate.  I’m working really hard to be in the moment, take things one day at a time and resist the urge to always be ten steps ahead.  With age and experience often comes wisdom, I suppose.  Our boys have provided us with many opportunities to learn the past few years.

I was feeling like maybe I was doing something wrong, though.  I couldn’t grasp everything that was taking place, was finding it difficult to feel anything really, and aside from our ER escapade, haven’t really cried.  And that’s weird, I’m the crier in the family.

My sweet cousin sent me a beautiful message this weekend that provided me with so much comfort.  She shared that from her own lived experiences, the brain tends to temper what it allows you to access because sometimes it’s just all too much.  I needed to hear that.

It occurred to me that together, and maybe with the help of our brains only giving us access to what we can handle,  we’re beginning to move beyond self care to self love and while maybe it’s out of necessity, it’s certainly an opportunity for growth.

Our kids were covered yesterday for a few hours and Mike and I were encouraged to get out of the house.  We did just that, taking a drive south to a nearby outlet mall.  Did we need anything in particular?  No, just time together.  Is shopping our favorite?  No, not by a long shot.  But it was a destination and beyond needing to process things together, I also craved cozy.  I had this desire to find all of the soft, cozy, comfy things I could to wrap myself in this week.  We went with that.  It gave us a purpose.

In the car on the way down, we spent time talking about all the ways we’ve been supported in such a short period of time.  People have dropped off meals, treats and the most thoughtful gifts, have sent the kindest, most heartfelt messages, and have wrapped us in the acknowledgement that they’re in this with us.  Our people have shown up for us in unexpected ways.  Kindness is such a beautiful thing and we’re really feeling it – every thoughtful gesture adds fuel to our strength.

We also took some time to talk about how we’re both feeling.  We balance each other out in that way.  Mike is the immediate researcher, I am the hopeless optimist.  We take different paths to get to the same place.  In this case, we’re sitting tight and waiting for more information about Max’s Chiari 1 Malformation.  Until we know more, we just can’t make major decisions.  But I’d be lying if the elephant in the room isn’t a big one – you never want to even think about any type of procedure involving the brain, but especially not for your baby.  No matter how qualified and talented the neurosurgery team is.  It’s utterly terrifying.

There were periods of quiet on our drive, too.  Simultaneously lost in thought, the weight of the silence palpable – a common understanding of the road ahead and an unmarked path to get there.

We loved and ARE loving each other hard.  I knew Mike needed us to process things together (as did I) and he knew that I needed a cozy new sweatshirt, comfy joggers and some soft socks (I also LOVE a good deal, that helped a little, too).  As I’m writing this it sounds so strange that I felt like I needed those things.  But in the moment, it was what made sense.

We bought our favorite tea and vowed to end our nights with a warm mug together – more cozy and comfy, but in a cup.  We committed to exercising through this challenging time for clarity, energy and capacity rather than finding comfort in our favorite take-out which is our usual go-to.

We bought new socks for the boys to get us through this week because neither of us felt like taking on the dreaded task of pairing the socks that live on Laundry Mountain downstairs.  We’ll save that for next week.  Funny how something seemingly so small – like socks – brings such a tremendous sense of relief.  One less thing.

I’m also being really honest with myself about what I have the capacity for during this season. I usually forge ahead, push through, slide into bed completely exhausted at night because I’ve packed entirely too much in.  I’m used to being the doer, the problem solver, the helper.  Those things define me in a lot of ways.  I’ve had to give myself a few pep talks recently, however.  I just can’t be all of those things right now and even though on some level it’s just how I do life, I have to lean into the support we’re receiving and pull back on the rest.  And I’m finding the grace within to be okay with that.

Our family calendar is filling up with follow-up appointments for Max, an extended three-day EEG monitoring experience next week, another MRI, more x-rays and the addition of qualified and talented folks being added to his team.  With each appointment, procedure, test we learn a little bit more.  If not a direct answer, certainly another clue to support whether or not we’re heading in the right direction.  As his pediatrician confirmed today, we’re navigating several issues simultaneously and they’ll be handled separately until there’s reason to believe that they’re connected.

We’re learning so much with a lot coming at us at once.  When I take a minute to pause and reflect, I feel less overwhelmed and more grounded, finding gratitude in the opportunities we have to learn and grow.  Not only the new knowledge we’re gaining about the medical things impacting our sweet boy, but also how to support each other in new ways, how to receive the humbling kindness from our village, but also the acknowledgement of what an extreme privilege it is to have so much love and support, access to really talented medical staff, therapy, insurance, and extra snuggles.  Beyond the immediate fear that unknowns (and sometimes knowns) provide, there are also things to be celebrated.