Limbo

I want to think I am over things. I want to stop having nightmares and getting angry about things that happened.

Recently, the trauma that we experienced came back full force. It hurt like mad to think about it all and what was worse, Blair was gone. I feel like such a broken record, talking about these things now that we're doing so well. Not that Dean is doing so well. I feel like people will get tired of hearing it or be frustrated with me for not getting over it. I had all these pent up emotions last weekend, didn't know who to talk to, cried a lot around four in the morning, and wished like mad that Blair was hear to listen to me.

Last year around this time we were blind sighted with another hospital stay, one that ended with him having his second surgery. The ER trips are always rough. They fit so many procedures into a tiny amount of time to make sure that your kiddo is ok. It's invasive and it's rough.

I still mourn the loss of my time with my son as my baby. I still miss cuddling this tin little squishy bundle and being home and having every one tell me how cute he is instead of asking how he's doing. I still wish I had gotten to take him home when he was a day old instead of sending him for a surgery when he was three days old. I still have nightmares and panic attacks about medical procedures. I still cringe and panic when I hear the sound of a helicopter.

The wounds are healing, but they are itching.

I still have a hard time when any one else has a healthy baby. I struggle with my own heart and the things we have gone through. I remind myself often that I'm being a petty jerk and I need to move on. I do. It just hurts for a second before I can.

And. I am angry. I didn't realize how much until recently. I am. I just am angry that my son had to go through it, that I had to go through and I'm angry that now that things are so calm and stable that I can't flip the switch in my brain that tells me I can stop panicking. And his third surgery may not be for months and years, but it feels like we are just waiting and waiting and waiting for it. Waiting to see how it goes for him. Waiting to see if he's one of the ones who it kills, waiting to see how long we will be in the hospital. Our whole lives based off of "we will see how the third surgery goes". It's always there. Always in the back of my mind.

It is a frustrating time for me. And I just feel a little lost.

And, Not Just

I worry about the word "just".

Am I just a mom?
Am I just a wife?
Am I just a workhorse?
Am I just stuck here?

I want to be more than "just". I want to be a Wife AND a Mom. I want to be a Home keeper AND my children's play mate. I want to be a Mom AND an Artist.

I know too many moms who stop doing the things they love. I'm not basking them for this, look, being a Mom is a 24/7 all the time job. We don't get a lot of breaks, we don't get time off, and vacations are nice, but still work. We signed up for it and we know it and it's ok. But I've never wanted to give up the things that I love. The things that make me so deeply who I am.

I have always loved to draw. I have always loved to color. I love to dig in clay and make misshapen things. I love to have paint on my hands and clothes. I love when people ask me about it.

For the first in my life I feel like I can call myself an Artist. Other people always have. They introduce me that way "This is Maddie, she's an artist". But I would never introduce myself that way. It just didn't feel right. I liked art, sure, I was always making something, but yet...never did I feel in my heart I was an artist.

When Dean was born and we started his life long battle with his little gimpy heart I experienced for the first time true pain. We all think we go through these things that are the hardest things, and then we go through something so much harder and long for the things that were "less" hard. I'd much rather move in the middle of sophomore and junior year than watch my son struggle the way I had to. I had to figure out a way to take all that pain and get it out of me. For my Husband, for my kids, for me.

And I turned to Art.

I have created more this year than I think I ever have in my life. I have filled notebooks and watched tutorials and made countless trips for art supplies that I "needed". I have stepped out of my comfort zone and for the first time in my life I'm truly exploring and trying new things. I have seen improvement in my work. I have seen the nameless emotions I've felt come out of me onto a page. And I have shared my work.

From this deep pain I have found out who I am as an Artist and guys, it's freaking awesome.

It cracks me up that I have two kids, a house to keep track of, a husband to keep encouraged and I have suddenly found ("made") the time to sit and work on my art. Early mornings, late nights, small spinets of time hunched at my art desk, furiously working out an idea.  My husband being the one to tell me "It's late you need to go to bed" and I'm the one saying "One more minute babe".

It just feels nice to be able to call myself an Artist. And not "just".

I am And. All these things AND.

And it's beautiful, to be in this place. To be a wife AND mom AND artist.

And is so much better than Just.