Resilience is being a caregiver.
It’s a series of routines one would never choose to become used to.
Packing a bag for the hospital, again.
Waiting in the emergency room for hours, learning about new treatments, recovery methods, medications.
It’s developing a whole new set of skills: changing dressings, working a pump, maintaining a feeding tube, learning to watch the dosages and increments of time.
It’s opening your heart to someone more than you ever imagined you could, while simultaneously being more tired than you ever dreamed.
It’s acts of selflessness, over and over and over.
Why? Because you love the one you’re caring for. You love them so much more than the doctors and nurses could, because somewhere along the line this person was diagnosed with an illness that broke your heart into pieces. Somewhere, at some point in time, you realized how much that person meant to you.
And you acted.
You gave up your schedule, your normalcy, your sleep.
And when, at long last, the days creep in that are dark and frightening and unnatural, with the hollow shadow of death lingering in the corner, you continue pressing in.
Despite the sadness, the unknowns, and the terrible indefinite grief that looms with every moment, you hold their hand, you bring a cup of water to their lips.
Your patience is limitless.
Your recognition is nonexistent.
Your love knows no bounds.
Morgan is a former teacher, staying at home with her toddler while learning to embrace her love for writing. Her family is currently waiting on their next baby through domestic adoption. When she’s not at home chasing around her little one, she is most likely reading, cooking, going on a walk or spending time at the lake. You can find more of her writing here.