Eight Weeks Ago

Eight weeks ago today I was not sitting at a computer.

Eight weeks ago today I was in a dark hospital room.

Eight weeks ago today I was not listening to the rustling of my daughters homework papers.

Eight weeks ago today I could not turn off medical equipment or stop the sounds of patients moaning.

Eight weeks ago today I was not in fresh cozy clean flannel pj's.

Eight weeks ago today I was wrapped in a bloody thin hospital gown and bulky flannel blankets.

Eight weeks ago today I was not capable of being left alone to take care of myself or my child.

Eight weeks ago today I could not raise my arms to hug my kids or my husband.

Eight weeks ago today I was not able to visit with my mom for two hours.

Eight weeks ago today I was desperately trying to communicate through heavy sedation.

Eight weeks ago today I could not stand outside in the misty air and let the leaves fall down around me as I looked up into the colorful trees in my yard.

Eight weeks ago today I could not tell anyone there was a tiny cord wrapped around my right pinky finger that kept my wrist from even the smallest motion possible.

Eight weeks ago today I could not make a phone call and have a meaningful conversation with a friend.

Eight weeks ago today I was trying to convey that my feet were cold, not something about a dog.

Eight weeks ago today I could not take a deep breath and feel air rush into my lungs.

Eight weeks ago today I could not make a single noise or feel my own breathing because there was a tube down my throat.

Eight weeks ago today I could not make my bed.

Eight weeks ago today I could not see over the side of giant bed rails and tubes.

Eight weeks ago today I could not eat or drink or shower.

Eight weeks ago today I did not even think to eat or drink or shower.

Eight weeks ago today I was not there for my daughter to come put a paper in front of my face and say, "see---30 out of 30 on my vocab quiz mom"

Eight weeks ago today I did not want my daughter to see me.

Eight weeks ago today I could not plan a big family steak dinner for the upcoming weekend.

Eight weeks ago today I could not talk to my family without pen and clipboard being held by my side.

Eight weeks ago today I could not go shop for our new Christmas tree.

Eight weeks ago today I did not know when I would be able to walk outside.

Eight weeks ago today I didn't know I'd be doing simple things today that would make me think about

eight weeks ago today.