Marian & Mist

Maggie and I went to my office today for lunch. She, of course, was happy to entertain the throng of admirers, and my friends were thrilled to spoil her rotten.

After lunch, my friend Radhi said, "Hey, you should go for a massage!" I hesitated, hemmed, and hawed. The girls all volunteered to watch Magoo, and put her directly to work on the computer and answering phones. Radhi said, "You should call. Better yet, I'll call for you!" Healing Hands had a 1:30pm opening with Marian. And it was decided.

Marian greeted me when I arrived, and asked if there was anything specific she needed to address. "Not really," I told her, "I just have alot of stress at the moment." I lay on the massage table, stiff as a board, counting the dots on the ceiling, still gripped by the fear of tomorrow's surgery. Marian dimmed the lights and I closed my eyes. Her cool hands smoothed the creases in my forehead, rubbed my temples, and relaxed my jaw.

I listened to the New Age music playing in the background, listened to the hum of the central air, listened to the sound of Marian's hands across my skin, listened to the sound of my own breathing.

I imagined the stress, dark and oppressive, leaving my body. It seeped from my pores, rolled over the edge of the table, and flowed onto the floor. It came in a big black mist, dissolving into the air. I imagined the worry, the fear, the anger, the resentment, and the sadness leaving my body with every stroke of Marian's hands. I felt my skin grow warm, and imagined a golden healing light taking the place of the toxic black mist.

I thought of my Maggie. The way her face looks right before she falls asleep in my arms. The way her smile lights up the whole room. The way her laugh sounds like music. I thought of the first time I held her, when she was 6 days old. My tiny, perfect, baby. My STRONG, FEISTY baby.

Marian kneaded my muscles, stretched them, relaxed them. I matched the rhythm with a new mantra: Strength, Hope, Peace. Strength, Hope, Peace. Strength, Hope, Peace. Strength, Hope, Peace. Strength, Hope, Peace.

There are times that I don't feel very strong. There are times when I am about 2 minutes from completely losing my mind. I spend most of my time worrying about Maggie, making decisions about Maggie, taking care of Maggie. I wonder, sometimes, when someone will take care of ME. Even though I am able to be Maggie's advocate, a mother lion protecting her cub, I feel very fragile much of the time.

I have said before that I will always soldier on for my girl. But even the toughest soldiers need to be taken care of sometimes. And, for now, the mist is gone. The war may not be over, but I will fight this battle, and win.

Tomorrow, when I hand Maggie over to the nurse who will take her to the operating room, I will look the mist in it's ugly face, kiss my STRONG, FEISTY baby and whisper: Strength, Hope, Peace.

~Sara