Night time is supposed to be a time of sleep. Sleep is the great escape, until the dreams come. The mixed up dreams of people from long ago. The intermingling of the old with the new. The wanderings back to old houses. They are familiar but not the same. Snow, old cars, some shiny some rotting. Waiting for permits to remove them??????? Maybe I have been a lawyer too long. Old doctors and old houses. Trying to get a project done and not being able to do so. I don't know. The bed is totally mixed up, Sadie growled all night at me when I moved.
I have been back on the Web, looking for other parents with similar situations. Bad Sally. Bad Bad Bad.
As we progress through maintenance I have more time on my hands to review and re-discover that lost year. I have been editing the blog to remind myself of what happened to pass it off the first few months to a family in the midst of the process. I realize that what we needed was a guide. A resource parent that could be on our journey with us. This realization came from a young lady named Christine that is now spending time with M-E. She had ALL when she was 6. She is working on hooking up survivors with newly diagnosed kids. She made me realize that that was what we needed. I have spoken to another mother who wants to be involved.
Maybe that will help with the worry.
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