“My son is just over 2 years old.” I can only hope I will continue doing everything as I do now. Everybody with a kid knows how much energy they seem to exude at every hour of the day. I undergo my diagnosis of fibromyalgia with constant complaint and acceptance because I feel less like a mom because I can’t play as my husband can with my babysitter. I look at the wrestling, tickling and feeling so happy with the love they share while I also feel like I am not able to do so.
I should be able to pursue him as he laughs without taking my back up. In order to make me double in pain, I should be able to fight with him without fear of being hit in the right spot. I think when he’s a young person and I have to apologize to his friends for why I’m not in his game and it almost breaks my heart.
I think of where I’m in my pain now and I wonder what in five, ten, or fifteen years my quality of life will look like and what it will do to my son. I can only hope to keep coping with everything, as I now do. Day after day. Take it. I cry, laugh, and smile through the pain when I’m sad. It’s just everything I can ask myself. To remain who I have always been and hope that everything else will shine through.
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