I don't know; and that's okay.

Conley has been my life, my everything, my 24/7 for some time now. Even when I wasn't directly taking care of him, I was doing something for him. I was making calls, talking to doctors, organizing his medications, agonizing over each detail or updating his schedule. And now that's over.

I've had many people ask me several different ways, "What's next?" As in, will you go back to work? Will you still work with kids? Are you going to Crossfit again? Maybe you should work with parents like you and use your degree to counsel them? What will you tell Choice? I have also had many propositions for volunteer roles, or maybe write a book, and speak at events. In the midst of these conversations, I found myself stuttering, and feeling indecisive. And then I think to myself, wow, that's a good question. I have so many OPTIONS and CONTROL over what will happen next and I have no idea what to do with it. It makes me feel overwhelmed and anxious, and unsure. Scared. Then I think how ironic that is. I had NO CONTROL and NO OPTIONS for so long that I had really found myself surrendering to the flow of life. Just taking what came. I stopped planning or expecting. I just woke up every morning and thought, "okay, what's happening today and how will I feel about that." What battle will we face today? To say each day was different would be an understatement. Every hour was different. And to someone like me who was always wanted expectation and plans, to be set on a schedule, with little flexibility and minimal capacity of major change, that was by no means easy. It took me so long to transition to role of spontaneity and unknown. So long, and lots of therapy.  Soul searching. I hated not knowing what to expect, and not being able to be proactive. I was always someone who was prepared, understood early and got ahead of each obstacle. That is how I minimized anxiety and became a perfectionist. I was always on top of everything. I couldn't be anxious if I was overly prepared; if I knew what to expect. But, Conley changed all that. 

In the beginning, I was scared, angry, resentful, traumatized and living on edge. I had to accept that some things had no connection, no reason and no answer. Most of his life could not be fixed, and I was a fixer. I wanted to know why everything happened, so I could prevent it. Especially all the bad things, and the pain, and discomfort. All the vomiting. That was the hardest part. If I could find the reason why he was uncomfortable, I could fix it. But, really, I couldn't. I finally realized that. So, I had to accept that, and learn that I could not fix some things. I had to be okay with that and still be there even though I could not do anything. Just in the moment with him, so he knew that I was trying. Many times I felt like I had failed him. True mommy struggle. I could not help him. What a horrible feeling.

And at some point, it just happened. I adjusted. I became "okay" with late night ER visits, back to back doctors appointments, quitting work, not being fit, and having to be reactive. I still did not like it at all, but I became good at it. Not just good, but amazing. I owned it. I was good at being reactive. It didn't stress me out as much as it used to, or send me into a panic attack like in the beginning. Shit happened, and then I went with him and reacted. I was decisive and direct. No stuttering. I knew every last detail. I mean, if this was my job, and my world, I was going to master it. I turned my biggest fear into my biggest triumph. I knew everything about Conley. EVERYTHING! Every sign, symptom, medication name and dosing (he had about 12 prescribed), specialist name, ER visit, hospitalization time, number of surgeries, vital signs...The list could go on. I learned to make decisions fast, and without hesitation because on certain occasions, time was not on our side. At least three occasions would have ended this blog sooner had I not reacted as I did. 

But now, I stand in the midst of these conversations, and there is no answer. I don't even know what to say. Because any answer I chose is right. There's no wrong answer this time. Only what feels right to me. And to be completely honest, I have no idea. At any point during our journey, I would have said I wanted life to go back to how it was, with me working with children and exercising every day. Taking Choice to music class and gymnastics, having play dates and cooking or baking every weekend. Planning trips to visit family and cuddling next to my boys when they have a simple cold. Learning I was pregnant again and giving Choice a sibling that would be so close in age. Before all of this happened. 

But now that I have options, I feel very unsure. I have the chance to press the reset button and I don't even know where to begin. So, I decided to begin by acknowledging that I don't know. I don't know what I'm going to do, or how I'm going to feel; what path to take or what will make me happy. I just don't know. This journey has taught me that I cannot predict how I will feel during each step. Never would I predict I would have felt more love and joy than pain and grief during Conley final days in my arms. Never would I predict that I would want to hold him as he took his final breath. Never would I predict that I would want to share every last detail of his life with strangers. And then I think, how cool is that? I get to live today and learn something new about myself each day instead of trying to fit into this fixed presentation of what I thought I should be. Or what I was. Not many people get that chance.

I don't know what I'm going to do, or how I'm going to feel; what path to take or what will make me happy. So, I will do what I've done so well for so long now, something that Conley has effortlessly taught me. And I am so grateful for. I will do what I feel today. I will wake up each morning and see what today brings. I will live in the moment instead of trying to decide what to do weeks or months from now. If I want to do something, great. If not, who cares. I have time. Because although we always have plans and dreams, nothing is guaranteed but this moment right now. So let's just embrace it.