So last week we headed south to my grandmother’s house with the dock on the bayou that I love so much. My mom and dad met us there – further intensifying what felt like a wonderful security blanket of fun, sun, and family. And one night I even got a little brave and my husband and I headed to the beach for a date night, staying up past my self-imposed healthier lifestyle curfew.

And then at 5am I woke up yet again, in an ambulance.

Seizure #2, darn it.

But this time I had a handle on it. And as I sat on my ER bed, legs swinging over the end, I was fully intent on getting the heck out of there. And thanks to my rockstar neurologist back home who conferred with the ER doc, I was released by day’s end although much to my chagrin, with marching orders to start taking anti-seizure meds until we get to the bottom of this. Nevertheless, we tried to finish out our vacation on a high note.

So when we got home we unpacked, did laundry, went to the grocery store and I set up a meeting with a specialist for later this month.

And settled into a medical holding pattern.
And it’s been pouring down rain ever since.
And my daughter’s attitude has reached an all-time diva status.
And these meds make me feel groggy.
And I ignored that little voice in my head that told me not to and spent a couple of hours one day googling “seizures.”

Insert meltdown here.

So there it was. I allowed myself to wimp out and call my parents, bawling. Just a full on self-pity, regression, anxiety-driven venting session. My mom listened patiently on the other end, without judgment, while no doubt nodding to my father in the background to confirm that this was in fact the-call-they-had-probably-anticipated–with-perfect-parental–accuracy-would-happen–within-72–hours-of–me-getting-home-and-back-to-reality.

It did feel really good. And now it’s done. So yesterday as I tried to dry off from my self-pity dip, many thoughts were swirling around in my head…dramatic and life-affirming thoughts that I focused on to reposition any negative neurons dancing around in there.

I thought about how 7 years ago this very week I lost my grandfather to Alzheimer’s. And when I flew down for the funeral, I surprised my parents by telling them I was pregnant with their first grandchild. It was an incredible moment when loss met joy.

And as I sat with my sister-in-law yesterday with our collective brood of now five kids at a big booth at McDonalds I thought how amazing it is that these children didn’t exist 7 years ago. As they sat munching on Happy Meals I surveyed their little faces sitting across from me. Blue-eyed, hazel-eyed, brown-eyed. Sensitive, creative, shy, feisty, outgoing. A budding champion athlete, artist, entertainer, CEO and the newest baby asleep in his car seat in a cute baseball onesie. A kaleidoscope of little people that have challenged and exhausted us. These little lives that we created. That have turned us into mothers. That we adore.

And I thought about how earlier that morning the nurse at our pediatrician’s office marveled at how much my daughter had grown at her 4-year checkup and how I felt completely elated that our biggest obstacle at the moment is her fear of vegetables and the dentist. And the diva thing.

And finally, after I watched our mailman play, with unadulterated joy, with the neighbor’s dog across the street, I had pretty much pumped myself up into a “Life is Good” frenzy..with a July 4th theme. I will share it with you now despite the fact that it’s so corny you could seriously use it as BBQ side dish this weekend…

Life. Is to recognize the beauty of the entire journey and to embrace and cope as best we can with the sickness and the loss and joy and birth equally…to let it all wash over us. To recognize the weight of thoughtful gestures as small as a friendly manager at McDonalds offering your table a free ice cream, or a sleep-deprived sister-in-law who packs five car seats in her minivan and drives you around in the pouring rain.

Liberty. To give yourself the freedom to admit you don’t know what the heck you’re doing sometimes. To not care about perfection or putting yourself out there or care if you’re acting the right way. To be brave enough to say what you really mean. To admit even at the age of 37, you are sometimes as needy as a daughter as you hope you’re as strong as a mother.

The Pursuit of Happiness. To logically decide that despite a bad economy, a large mortgage and a freshman year starting in 2021, it’s a great summer to spend a good amount of money adding on a back deck. To create a physical space where you will host dozens and dozens of cook-outs with cold beer on hot summer nights. To create a forum for deep conversation, ringing laughter and heated debates over the best songs of the 80’s.

And next July, when the VA Hospital on the other side of the woods behind your house has its big celebration, you will know that the pile of wood and nails that you paid someone to put together was worth every single penny.

Because it will provide a spectacular front row seat to a fireworks show that will be brilliant, awe-inspiring, loud and so close that at times it’s even a little scary.

And you’ll spend what seems like a really long time waiting for it to start and then it will pass so fast in a flash of color and light.

And it will be absolutely beautiful.

Just like life.