Day 18 – 40 days of writing- The long, slow, walk to the guillotine.

My paperwork is filled out.
And I sit here, today, tonight, feeling like I am awaiting an execution.
There is such an ominous feeling in knowing that tomorrow all this becomes so much more real. There are conversations I have to have…   decisions I have to make… all of which feel overwhelming to me now, even before they are completely and specifically known.
And as I contemplate them… the ones that are somewhat known, they feel so bitter.
I can’t ask “Why me?” because this is a product of life; choices that I made and that have brought me to this junction. It is futile to wonder the why, but in my most self pitying moments I wish I could scream this into the abyss… and then reason takes over and answers me gently.
Nature is so cruel. I was brought up with that in my every day life. And yet, I want to scream… “why do this to me, why take the one thing that is a symbol of being a mother and obliterate the last few years of my chances at having more children”. “I wanted six”, I want to add to my scream, and in the end I feel weighed down by this incredible failure of aspiration.
And perhaps it is this failure that makes things in this situation so damn hard, because it is just that. A failure.
I look at the exotic eyes of my beautiful son, and choke up at how much I love him and how profoundly lucky I am that he came in to my life, and feeling that the intense lamentations of the ones who were never to be born are equally lost to him.
Couple that with the idea that I should be grateful that I do have him, creates a whirlwind of emotions as intense as they are complex. 
That which I have held most sacred, motherhood, will be denied me (in this way) much earlier than I am ready for.
The rituals of this disease are subtle and fierce. My physician turned my care over to the oncologist. I do not get to return to him until I am released back… much like a prison sentence.
And so, I feel like my dinner tonight was a last meal… and tomorrow will begin the long, slow walk to my own personal guillotine.
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