Day 10

I would really like to go home now. I would like to pick my other two kiddos up from school. I would like to be available to wash Kate's volleyball shorts and knee pads so that she doesn't have to call and ask me how to do it. I would like to be able to tuck Jackson into bed, especially when he says "I wish we were together again like our family." I would like to nag the kids to pick up their laundry. I would like to be in my own bed- listening to the girls giggle when they should be asleep, Jackson humming along to his radio (he insists on listening to music as he falls asleep), and with the warmth of my husband lying beside me. I would like to have a conversation with my husband that is more than five minutes long and, even if words about Liz aren't being spoken, doesn't include seeing weariness in each other's eyes.
I would like all of these things very much. I am trying to be so calm, but I am barley hanging on to being in control.
I realize this may sound dramatic because we will go home eventually and life could be much worse...but being here for ten days and knowing we have at least a week longer in the hospital, brings feelings that sum up this whole journey we have been on with Elizabeth. Nothing is normal it feels and I am, well, homesick. Even in my home I have that "homesick" feeling- I miss normal, what should be, and the way our family was.
I started reading a fiction book that began with the characters as young sisters, one of whom had been very ill. In it, the character says how her sick sister became the center of the family and over time, everything else revolved around her. Spinning. Well, I stopped reading on page 12 and I won't be finishing it (actually I will be returning it because it got into being a weird book about magic and fireflies, which is a whole different story).
My point is that I held my breath when I read that part. Those who know me have heard me say many times that I refuse to let Liz's illness become who she is; who we are. It is what is happening to her, but I won't let it become her. Yet, when the illness becomes so big- it is hard to fight against that very thing...so difficult to keep from things, plans, schedules, time,  from revolving around Liz's care.
Being stuck here, away from my precious kids and my husband; with others needing to help care for Jackson and Kate while I am away, paints a very real picture of us revolving around Liz.
Day 10, at least a week to go, and just spinning.