For the past two months, we have had it rough. Watching my aunt die, finding out that my mom also has cystic fibrosis, Mike's relief quitting and him being off his schedule/not knowing when he's going to be home. Work, in all honesty, has been a constant, even though we lost a big client and I've been subconciously worried about my job security.
Then in the middle of all of this I have a panic attack that sends me to the ER (although at the time I had no idea that it was a panic attack). Having had a few more of them - most usually when Mike is gone - has got me thinking that it's time. When the sound of your child awake over the baby monitor sends you into a full-blown panic attack, it's time. Do you know what it's like to feel like you're about to pass out at 3 a.m. and know that you're the only person there for your baby? More than once I've had to call friends and family in the middle of the night to come care for Cole because I did not think I could do one more thing.