Denial. Not just a river in Egypt...

It's Saturday.  Grace is leaving on Tuesday.  I wish I could say that I have been busy preparing her favorite foods, spending evenings going through old pictures with her and weeping into her baby blankets as I pack them away, along with all the sweet memories, to bring them to Massachusetts with me.

Yeah. No.

Don't get me wrong. We've spent every moment possible together, which thankfully has been a lot of moments.  But I have been tired, and cranky. My bladder is constantly stabbing me with a hot poker. My eyes hurt. It took me two days to recover from a beginners yoga practice that my body is used to.  We've eaten hamburger/tomato macaroni two days in a row (tonight will be three).  I've been napping, and I haven't had to nap in a long time.

In short, I am in denial.  Denial. Not just a river in Egypt!

Har har.

To be fair, I don't choose denial. Denial chooses me.  My brain sees something too big to handle and says, "Nope. Not doin' it."  My body, expecting the worst, protests, "But, but..."

I just go along for the ride.

I do have peace, though. That means everything to me. I have learned over the years not to try to control my body/mind/heart's reaction to difficult things.  I instead choose the way I behave in times like this, the words I say, the thoughts I think.

I am happy, and sad. I am excited, and fearful of the pain of letting go.  I feel stronger than ever, and pathetically weak.  I feel whole, and yet broken.  I am going through something that millions of parents have gone through before me, and I am on a uniquely personal path.  My body hurts, my heart aches, my eyes sting, and yet yesterday when we bought a lovely green coat for Grace to wear in England, I wanted to squeal with glee.  It's gorgeous. She's gorgeous. It's all gorgeous.

One day at a time.