Ineffably Sad

I started a new book the other day. I needed a distraction from my life, and I hoped that I could stay up late reading. Alone. In a quiet house.

A couple of sentences into the book, the main character was described as "ineffably sad". And I stopped. I couldn't move on from those words. Ineffably sad. That's how I feel...

Katie has been sick for a couple of weeks. For the last nine days, the sickness has escalated and she is in an incredible amount of pain. She cries out in pain. It's a howl that makes my blood run cold. She begs for the pain to stop, for me to do something to help her. My baby's tired, desperate, tearful eyes look to me. And I was able to do nothing! This would happen every 30 minutes during the day and every two hours at night. For nine days.

Bethie and Sarah were sick, too. Vomiting, diarrhea, strep throat. Both of them needed me because when you're sick, only Mummy will do.

Then Dan's family came to stay with us last weekend (while all this was going on). I had tried to clean the house and make everything nice, but with three sick kids, and having been up all night, I just didn't have the ability. And that was added to the long list of "How I've Failed My Family Lately".

On Saturday, the washing machine stopped working. As the mountain of clothes covered in vomit and diarrhea grew, I tried to figure out how I was going to be able to afford a new washing machine. Three weeks before Christmas. With every piece of clothing tossed into the hamper, my anxiety heightened. When I finally got in touch with the repair man, he said that he would rush on over on Tuesday! I kept reminding myself "I can do this. I CAN do this!". I took my laundry to Mum's house and more to Emilie's house.

The repair man came Tuesday and was able to retrieve a teeny, tiny sock from the pump. For $60, of course. But I didn't care. It was a lot less than the cost of a new washing machine.

I listened to the sound of the washing machine running and convinced myself that this was a SIGN that things were getting better. The kids would feel better, the laundry would be clean, and we could go back to our happy little lives.

Then Melissa's sister called me. "Melissa has passed away" was what she said. And I was blasted sideways. I was flat on my back. The Earth was spinning. And I couldn't breathe. I couldn't get up. There was nothing left to hold me together. I was broken.

I cried.

I have been crying ever since. Because I am ineffably sad.