Today is Grace's twelfth day of being in the world. It's also the first day that I have felt human enough to sit down and attempt to write something besides a one-word Facebook comment.
One thing that symbolizes what the last twelve days have been like: there has been a smudge of toothpaste on my shelf in the bathroom since one of our first days home. I've been flirting with major tooth decay, brushing my teeth sporadically at best, tossing a few Rolos into my maw before falling into bed. So along with the countless other OCD habits that I have sacrificed to the cause of mere survival, properly squeezing the toothpaste tube from the bottom up has gone by the wayside. I now squeeze it like a toddler or an angry raccoon--Ben noted that I opened a tub of hummus "like an angry hobo"--and this drip of Colgate has remained stuck to the shelf, taunting me each day. I knew it would take a second to wipe it up, but doing so has seemed beyond my capabilities, not worth the energy. Like so many other things: changing out of Ben's ratty old pajama top, checking our bank balance, putting Chapstick on my disgusting, cracked lips. The only thing that has mattered has been keeping Grace fed, changed, and either asleep or alert.
Well, today, I wiped up the toothpaste blob! I also scrubbed the kitchen sink in preparation for Gracie's second bath, after her first one in the "Tummy Tub" I so carefully selected was a disaster, despite having watched instructional videos on its use. I wrote one thank-you card, and did a load of laundry, a milestone as I haven't been able to bend down to the washing machine until now, and have been letting my mom wash about ten loads every day. I capped off all of this activity by wiping up the toothpaste, and that's when I realized that life will get back to normal someday.
Every morning, when the sun (sort of) comes up and my mom or dad comes out to put on the tea kettle or make coffee, I feel a great sense of relief. "Well," I think, we've managed to keep her alive for one more night." Throughout the day, I'm seized by terror when I think about how my parents are only staying with us for three more nights, and a few weeks after that, we'll be completely on our own.
Tonight may bring another brush with utter panic and the depths of despair. But I have made progress: I've gone from being someone who idly ignores basic hygiene to someone who can wield a paper towel when needed. I am getting a little bit closer to being back to myself...or to my new self, whoever that will be.
