Unfortunately, it hasn't.
I've known all along that I should talk to someone about what has been happening, but, I refused, thinking I could do it all on my own - I trained as a Counsellor, I knew what would be said - it seemed to me to be a big sign of weakness if I sought professional help.
However, the other day, this decision got taken out of my hands.
The nurses decided enough was enough.
A Social Worker was consulted. She looked at me with big eyes and waited for me to talk. She didn't offer any advise or support. She didn't tell me everything was going to be ok. But she did let me speak and she let me cry. She let me sit in silence.
Through this brief interaction, I learnt a few things about myself:
1. Do not mention the dreaded 'c' word to me. If I was an actor, this would be my crying cue - it induces tears at the drop of the hat! (The C word being Calories which have caused numerous set backs for Dexter so far - the precious little thing can't handle anything non-natural in his diet....)
2. I one day hope to be able to enjoy a day off, but for now, this has an incredibly negative connotation - totally unjustified, but how I feel all the same. (2 days off in 108 days, both brought bad news on my return)
3. I don't like Fridays. Every Friday is a reminder of how old Dexter is and of how long this journey has been going on for, and of course, how long ago we should have been home.
I'm physically and mentally exhausted. I'm tired of being told to take some time off. I'm tired of being told this will soon all be a distant memory. I'm tired of having to put on a brave face all the time. I'm tired of visiting the hospital. I'm tired of writing about it all. I'm tired of hearing the alarm sound, telling me to express once again. I'm tired of the tears.
I wish I could lay in bed, pull the covers over my head and catch up on sleep, and for a brief moment, forget that this has all happened.
But, I know, that when the alarm goes off, Ill roll over and think of Dexter and that's enough - that's all I need to keep going. I think of his smiles, I think of the noises he makes as he discovers his voice, I think of the cuddles he gives. I think of the cheeky little boy I have and I know that I can keep doing this.
Unfortunately, our discharge date is still unknown. There are still investigations needed and there may even be a trip back to Sydney. But with the support that we have and the determination of our little boy, I know we will get there.