Day 2.

I daresay this is the most painful thing to deal with yet.

We made it through day two. Today, we all went back to school. Back to work.

Every thing I do is a constant reminder.

I get no text messages that start, "mis mel..." I get no hugs from the back. I get no howling cackles of laughter. I told someone today that I have no words. And I don't.

I know that they are taken care of. But I want to know what was for supper. How school was. Homework assignments due. Emma, at this moment, is begging for a chance to just talk to them on the phone. She is waiting for his answer. And he has no answer.

I can't physically speak about it. I talked to my sister this morning for a couple of minutes. It was all I could get out. One other friend got me on the phone last night. I lost it. I promise, Jenni, that I will call you. But I will cry.

It is stupid, really. I walk by the back windows, I wait to hear the dog bark. DCS took the dog. I I listen for Spanish. I only hear English on the television. I have no affiliation with the middle school anymore. Prom coming up in May doesn't affect me. I often fantasize about Annie running away and knocking on the door. I guess I should have hugged her one last time. I just didn't think I could take it. And I didn't think it was fair to make her choose.

We question God's plans for us. I know He has a plan. I just don't know what it is. I want to know so this just doesn't hurt so bad. maybe then, this will make sense.

Lost.

Today, I am lost. It is midnight. I can't sleep. I can't even begin to figure out how to regroup. Today, my girls left. For Good. The girls have lived with us for almost a year. The girls, ages 14 and 17, have became my daughters over this year. We celebrated birthdays, holidays, happy days and sad days. Today, I had to pack them up, all of their belongings, and drive them to someone else's house. I had to tell someone else about their medicine, about their likes and dislikes, about their habits. I had to tell someone else how they study, what happens when they get angry. I had to turn over the information for counseling appointments, doctors appointments and school appointments. And I had to walk away. So, I am at a complete loss. The worst part is that my other children, Eli, Emma and Tripp, are more lost than I am. They cried. They still are crying in spurts. They are looking for them and waiting for them to pop into the room to watch tv. Emma is walking around with an ipod playing their favorite songs. Emma's comment to me - "But we prayed for them to be better". Explain that. Tripp kept crying, "But they take care of me." And "I didn't even get to tell them bye." Eli's post on Facebook was " feels broken". David walked around the house and turned pictures down. I guess they are not ready to be put away yet. Right now, I am washing their sheets and comforters to take to their new home tomorrow. So, how do you just "stop" being someone's mother? It would be so easy if it had an "on" and "off" switch. Tomorrow, I could go to school and teach and not think. But I have to - need to - take a day or two off for my "other" kids. I need to make sure they are OK. We have to regroup. I am so torn up that I did not even bring my car home. It is still at the DCS office. I just left it sitting. I have spent the last fifty weeks mothering five kids. Buying food for five kids. Balancing five kids. I just can't stop. But that fourth and fifth kid are gone. And I am just lost.

Nevermind. It is not good.

So, I kept feeling worse. And worse.

Then, the unthinkable happened.

I have lost my voice.

I ended up back at the doctor this morning. It turns out that I have laryngitis (duh?) bronchitis and pneumonia. My chest hurts, but I can't tell anyone. I can't breathe, but I can't talk about it.

My throat is raw. My nose hurts. My ear is infected.
Just shoot me.

There is joy in this. Dave is experiencing joy.
No talking - no fussing at the kids. I am going to be quiet.
But soon, Dave will miss my voice and my cackling laughter.
Who will he argue with?