She was able to have some broth last night. Today they are going to let her have a few bites of ice cream. It is clear by the level of excitement the ice cream announcement caused that I come from my mother's side of the family!
Thank you so much for all the supportive comments, messages, and emails I've been getting over the last few days. It has made such a difference for me, and really reminded me how special this blogging community is, and how online friendships are real friendships.
Little snippets seem to be all I'm good for at this point.
I get a strong four sentences of prayer in, but I feel disconnected.
My mind races.
I laugh hysterically at things that aren't that funny. I cry deeply at things that aren't that sad. I'm more snappy and also more cuddly. I want to be held, but I don't want to be touched. I'm emotionally eating everything, but it all tastes like copper and feels like lead in my stomach.
My emotions are less of roller coaster, and more of a runaway train - going faster, faster, faster, no stopping in sight.
I get a focused three sentences of prayer in, but then my mind is filled with bits of songs that won't shut off and anxieties that won't quit.
I wonder if I'm like her, my grandma. I wonder if I'm like anyone in my family.
I feel like I know them, and yet, I feel like they are all strangers who are very far away. I am obsessed with family these days. Angry and sad and lonely and hurt.
I get a semi-focused two sentences of prayer in while I write a message, updating and asking someone else to pray.
I want to scream at the doctors, "We will be there tomorrow, don't do anything yet!" and "We will be there tomorrow, why haven't you done anything?"
What are we walking into? And, maybe worse, what will we walk away from next week? Six days isn't enough time. But it may be too much time.
What is time? Why am I wasting it asking these stupid questions?
I get one word in. "Please." Maybe it is enough. It doesn't feel like it is.
I don't know how to be a mother and to grieve. I'm not so good at this.
And maybe grieving won't be called for. Maybe we will rejoice. Maybe I can shut down the part of my brain that is running scenarios and thinking about all the years I've missed.
I ask for healing. I ask for strength - for her, for me, for all of us. I ask for help to stand in front of her, tear-less, and support any decision she makes. I ask where the line is, and how to know if I've crossed it.
Maybe prayer is asking, and maybe it is crying, and maybe it is just a little bit writing this blog post. Because I don't know if I can remember how to do it anymore. I just know that God is good. And Jesus intercedes. And I believe that far away in a hospital room I won't reach until tomorrow, the Holy Spirit sits and holds my Grandma in His arms. Because everything else is too hard, and I've run out of any other answers.
Maybe, that is exactly how it is supposed to be. And if it isn't, maybe there is grace.