For last night’s midterm, I needed to memorize the definition of the word “trajectory,” as it relates to one’s life, stated as “Relatively stable long-term processes and patterns of events, involving multiple transitions.” As I read that, I laughed to myself, realizing that my life is one that contains NO stable trajectory, and only transitions, many of them incredibly abrupt…

I came home Sunday night to this care package from a very dear friend, making me realize that I actually don’t hate surprises or presents, when they come from a place of unconditional love, along with reminders of peace, courage, strength, self-care, and love-filled food…

In the midst of kind of a crappy Monday for me, personally, I had to quickly change focus away from myself and my own woes, once I put that pulse oximeter on her finger. Oxygen saturation levels even lower than, along with an even higher heart rate would give her an expedited trip into an ER bed, to hang for roughly six hours of testing, a relatively fast pneumonia diagnosis, and waiting for a bed in the Children’s hospital that gave me time to transition quickly into student mode to turn my homework beating the 11:59 deadline by two minutes…

Tuesday started off rough, as the severity of her condition set in, making me question why I had told my kids Gianna and I were definitely coming home, knowing that pneumonia is basically the Grim Reaper of myotonic dystrophy, just lingering around with the possibility of winning the battle against someone with already compromised respiratory function. The day would transition between glimpses of hope and fear, with reminders that science and technology are amazing, as those antibiotics attacked whatever bacteria was ailing her and lung-shaking, cough-inducing mechanical devices stimulated things enough to turn the corner…

By Wednesday, Gianna would transition slowly back into herself/her own nurse by the evening removing her own ECG leads and pulse ox probe to go to the bathroom, saying, “Of course I know how to take them off, Mom. I watched you do it like 1 million times!” As planned, I would transition from mom/caregiver to student to yogi. However, the yoga mat would prove to do what it often does, and force me to transition briefly from the fierce tiger mama that I often am, and reduce me to the farthest thing from that, leaving nothing but a lonely, sobbing puddle of ugly crying in the dark on a hospital room floor, as the trajectory of life’s realities and unknowns pummel down on me, with visions of what is to come with my beloved children being too clear for my tears to cloud.

Not to worry… in what was now the early hours of Thursday, I needed to transition out of that mess instantaneously as the nurse walked in, lifting me off my mat, my tears wiped away by the time I was standing back on my two feet. Back to reality. Pulling it together. Deep breath. Inhale courage, exhale fear–just like the care package card says. The rest of Thursday was one positive transition to the next, as Gianna slowly ditched the medical accessories of her constant monitoring and IV, giving her the go-ahead to make that transition home tomorrow! Our celebration involved her walking all the way to meet our friend who had delivered her hospital-stay last meal of Jimmy John’s, while I reveled in the fact that this hospital is connected to mine and provides meals over here, including my favorite Regions cafeteria fish tacos, which I haven’t enjoyed in almost a year, as that part of the food service is shut down during the pandemic.

In theory, Friday night will be spent at home again in our own beds, now transitioning the 2-3 week anticipated continued recovery to our own space of healing, where that little magnet from the care package has taken root on my fridge, reminding us all of our current life trajectory, “If you’re going through hell, keep going.”