It’s okay to not be okay.

Watching your child suffer through three surgeries while being completely helpless and out-of-control is not something I’d wish on my worst enemy. While Victoria has amazed us all with her ability to recover so quickly, I feel like it’s only fair to not just share the highlights and progress. This journey is HARD.

This third surgery has been especially hard because it took place just as school was starting. All of Victoria’s friends are together again and she is inundated with pictures of smiling faces beginning a new year while she’s stuck in a neck brace unable to change out of pajamas. Tears stream down her face as she silently suffers and they stream down mine as I watch her feel totally isolated. She has been coughing up God knows what (maybe it’s the blue glue from her second surgery) and we can’t go anywhere even though it’s absolutely gorgeous outside (77 degrees and sunny), so we stare out the windows and watch the world go by.

I’m not writing this post for sympathy or to take away from the miraculous blessing we’ve been given in terms of Victoria’s healing. I’m well aware of the fact that so many others are not as fortunate and it literally brings me to my knees to think about parents having to endure the pain of losing a child. I do think it’s important to share the full scope of emotions that nonchalantly come and go at their leisure when going through a traumatic event.

Irrational anger is a big one for all of us. If I’m in my head in a worried state and someone says something I don’t want to hear at that moment, WATCH OUT!!! I will lose my shit. Victoria does the same thing. We feel so out-of-touch and isolated that it becomes hard to stay positive. Jealousy is another big one. Seeing everyone on their summer trips and doing various activities is both awesome and hard to see at the same time. I mainly feel it for Victoria. I can’t imagine what it must feel like missing out on everything as a 14 year old. It’s not like she’s unaware of what she’s missing, either. When I was her age, I had no clue what people were doing if I wasn’t with them. Victoria sees it all. She feels it all.

Then, there’s Wren. She so badly wants to be with her sister and for our family to be together. She feels things deeply and has tried to push down her emotions so as not to create anything additional for us to worry about, but I see everything. I see her vacillate between wanting to go to friends houses while not wanting to waste a minute of time that she could be spending with Victoria. It torments her and no 12 y/o should have to experience that feeling. I have to constantly remind Travis that Wren is not Victoria. Victoria and Travis will battle it out and both instantly be over it. That’s just how they work. Wren and I aren’t like that. Words and actions stay with us forever.

Travis has been through the gamut of emotions, too. How he manages to run a company while worrying about every single one of us all day long is awe-inspiring to me. He is able to compartmentalize different aspects of his life…until he isn’t. Then we pick him back up and reassure him that he is doing everything right.

While watching the Olympics, I thought about how our lives feel like a relay race right now. Each of us goes and goes as hard as we can until we burn out and need to pass the baton to someone else. We’ve been there for each other, passing the baton of worry from person to person, but we are all tired at the end of the race.

Those of you who have relentlessly prayed for us and continue to reach out and check on us, THANK YOU! Even if we don’t respond, knowing that people still have us on their hearts means everything. Victoria has discovered what true friendship looks like, too. At first, everyone reaches out to convey their sympathy, well wishes, etc., which is so very kind, but life goes on and people understandably get busy. To each of Victoria’s friends who have not forgotten about her ongoing battle and continue texting her to cheer her on and tell her how much they miss and love her, you’ll understand how much that means to me when you have your own kids one day.

Two weeks ago, Victoria was probably the happiest I have ever seen her. She was back at home seeing extended family and friends, and she truly felt loved. These past few days have been some of the toughest of her life. Seeing her so sad and helplessly out of control of her emotions is next-level heartbreaking. I cry myself to sleep and have developed acid reflux so badly that I can barely eat or drink. I so desperately want to see that happy smile again. The saying, “a mother is only as happy as her saddest child” is spot on. We will get through this, but it’s a roller coaster with twists and turns and very steep “stomach-in-your-throat” drops. The good thing about roller coasters, even the scariest ones, is that they always come to a stop and we’re able to unbuckle and step off.