In the eye of the storm

I had a dream last night when I finally fell asleep. I was stuck in the ocean not terribly far from land - I could see it but I couldn't seem to get there. Both of my girls were in the water with me but our positions were different. Charlie, my 4 year old, who has autism, was stuck in the center of a whirlpool that kept going at different speeds. My 8 year old, Geneveive and I were outside of the center but close to Charlie. Close enough to see her and at times when the waters were calm we were close enough to touch her. Sometimes the waters at the center were calm and Charlie floated along. Other times, the water churned and she moved further away from us. At those times I could see her moving away but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't swim fast enough to get to her. And to try harder to get to Charlie I had to leave Genevieve outside the circle of moving water where I knew that she would be safe, but alone.

As I moved closer I could get my hands onto Charlie but I could never get her fully into my arms. I tried harder and harder but I was just not strong enough. Each time the water pulled her away I screamed and fought harder but it didn't help. I had to wait and let the water move me along closer to her. Each time I would look back to see where Genevieve was. I could see her but I was yelling at her to stay where she was - where she could get to land by herself if she needed to.

When I would look toward land I would see my husband standing there watching us. Every now and then he would wave and call out but I couldn't hear what he was saying. Sometimes, when the winds died down and the waters calmed he would swim out and tell me that I needed a break. He would tell me to swim toward land. But I couldn't. My body would not let me go. I knew that he wouldn't be there long enough for me to rest and get my strength back. Each time I tried to get away I would come right back. I never made it anywhere near land because everytime the waters got choppy again I swam straight back to them. As soon as I came anywhere near, my husband would swim away and climb back out on dry land. We would watch his back as he faded out of sight and then turn our attention to the storm raging around us.

I felt like there was nothing I could do for either one of my precious girls. My only goal was to get them both back onto dry land but I could not get to them both at the same time. I just wasn't strong enough. The only option was to take one at a time and I could not leave one behind to take the other first. I fought and fought through the same thing all night long until I finally woke completely exhausted and frantic.

I could not shake this image all day long. My thoughts never strayed from it. This is what my life is like. Trying as hard as I can to keep my precious baby out of the eye of the storm while still making sure that my other daughter, my beautiful, firstborn, wonderful daughter is safe from what is going on in our lives. And trying to camoflague those goings on as much as possible so that she can still feel as though there is something in her life that is "normal".

The cold, honest truth of this is that sometimes the pain is excruciating - almost unbearable. There are never enough tears to cry, never enough anger to express to get it out of your system, never enough safe moments or safe people to let it all go. Sometimes it feels as though it will eat me alive. Like the need to heal Charlie will consume me and everyone around me until there is nothing left of any of us. I love these girls with a fire that I could never have expected, with a passion that keeps me going long after I feel that my body has given out. What keeps me getting out of bed in the morning is knowing that the waters will calm again. I will get close enough to grab ahold of my baby again and I will reach out and bring us all three together again. We will love each other more and hold each other tighter than the time before until we are no longer pulled apart by the water's force. We will hold on tight and not let go until we reach land - together.