Russian Dolls

A few weeks ago I received news that I needed to consult yet another specialist for my son.  It immediately overwhelmed me and threw me into a week long depression.  Enough is enough.

I feel like I am trapped in an evil game with Russian dolls: when I started to investigate I opened the doll up and there is another inside and another and another.  The dolls are ticking like there is a bomb in the middle but I can't reach it.  There is no end in sight and I wonder what was the point in looking in the first place?

So many doctor's visits, OT, speech, gastroenterologists, ear nose throat, dentists, eye doctors.  I was so happy when we were all done with individual grief therapy but my running around town hasn't eased up at all as I am about to add yet another specialist to my weekly rounds list.

I was in my grief support group when someone asked how I identified myself.  I really don't.  I still think of myself as married, yet I also feel like a single mother.  When another woman said "there is a difference between single mother and ONLY-parent."

And she is right, a single mother (may) be able to call up the father and get some relief or there may be shared custody.  Me, I'm on my own and no matter how sick or tired or overwhelmed or stressed I am:  I am it.  The only-parent and I have to buck up and soldier through. 

I heard another person say that the definition of widow is "married but single".  I agree 100%.  I am single because technically in the eyes of the law and my religion my marriage ended at Jeff's death.  However, emotionally I am still married to him.  I know in time that feeling will wane but the fact that I am an only-parent will not. 

I have come to terms with where I am (right now) as it relates to my kids and all the doctors.  I really just wish it didn't cause my world to crash for a week.  Just another reminder that I am not super-mom.

Sincerely,

Jeff's Wife