I'm beginning to feel like a broken record. Seven weeks and one day...50 days. The roller coaster ride of grief still makes me nauseous and I still want off. Yet God has been faithful and continues to give grace and comfort. It's been a rough week with being sick. Drama boy's ear infection from two weeks ago didn't clear up and he also got a horrible case of hives yesterday. In addition, I have been battling a terrible sinus infection for over a week. On the up side, we continue to be lovingly supported by friends and family. Meals are still graciously being provided and are tremendously appreciated.
Dh is gone for the weekend at Men's Retreat. He called and is having a wonderful time. I'm happy for him, though last night here at home was B.A.D. Drama boy was up every 1 1/2hrs. I wasn't alone, however, and proved the adage that misery loves company. The girls and I had a sleepover with some BFF's. While it stunk that Drama boy was up all night, we still managed to have some wonderful girl time. In between tending to poor, miserable, sick Drama boy, we watched a really good chick flick.
My friend and I talked, laughed, and cried through the night. One thing I have really struggled with since Matt's death is how to answer the inevitable question, "How many kids do you have?" I know the answer is seven, but I am literal minded. Always have been. Probably not going to change. When I think of that question, I'm thinking, "No, I have six children. I had seven." Yet that's just not an acceptable response for me. And I have struggled with this in my head since the accident. I want to be prepared with an answer when someone asks me the inevitable. And thanks to my dear friend Amy, I finally came up last night with a response that I am satisfied with. "I am a mom of seven." Thanking God for His wisdom, that He should show it to me.