Family Meeting.

It was incredibly difficult to sit in that room. I focused on inanimate objects like the floor, a spot on the door, the way the chair was moved. I smiled weakly when asked how I was. I felt so disconnected. Is this really happening? I was able to state my name clearly. I was able to concentrate enough to have courage to speak. Speak absolute truths and beauty about my life, my husband, my family.

Such raw honesty like this almost breaks you. It almost completely crushes your heart. I felt so heavy. I found it difficult to eat anything or drink. It felt like a constant slow panic attack for hours; relentless, unceasing, inconceivable. It was nauseating. My whole body shook in anxiety.

I often put my head in my hands unfocused. I held my heavy thoughts. I held my hopes, my dreams, my wants. I stared at the table before me.

When I did make eye contact, my eyes filled with passion, precision, confidence. They did not waiver. They did not dart uncontrollably from person to person. They were steady and controlled. My voice sounded calm and even.

I shared my deepest wants, secrets, and life with people I barely know. People whose sole purpose is to judge my character and my ability to be a parent. People who could determine my fate.

Once again, I have control over this situation. I cannot control whether or not I'm allowed to be a mother.

Somewhere
a small voice in my head attempts to calm me.

I hold it together despite falling apart.


Family meeting...


Heather