It is like I had been holding my breath. I had to put all of my physical, mental, and emotional resources into doing so, into keeping Kiran alive and thriving, getting him to his life-altering surgery. When I have to be strong, I am strong.
I feel like I am living inside the exhale, especially this last week. My physical body responded by contracting a nasty cold. My mental and emotional self responded as well. I have struggled with my well-being more this past week than I have throughout this entire journey.
And with that comes the guilt. This process, our journey, has been difficult, true, but we have been so incredibly lucky. We were lucky to bring Kiran home as a newborn. We were lucky he was able to remain stable until he was 10 1/2 months old. We were lucky the surgery was such a success and the full repair was possible. We were lucky he completely rocked his recovery, and we made it home far sooner than any of us anticipated. We are lucky he is alive and with us.
Bottom line, my brain incessantly chastises me for struggling. I have everything to be thankful for. I have every reason to celebrate. I have every reason to be filled to the brim with joy and excitement for this next chapter in our story.
Instead, more than anything, I want to stay in bed with the covers pulled up to my chin. I find myself crying as often as I was in the days approaching surgery. I do my best to push past the grey, but I feel engulfed in it. I am in a period of darkness.
I am not doing okay, and I don’t know exactly why.