Why I Need the 'In-Between' Times After My Child's Medical Crises

I know there are days when it looks like I haven’t done a single thing. There are days I walk around the house, unable to accomplish anything because I can’t figure out what to do first and how to begin.

And honestly, there are other days when I don’t even try–I have been known to sit outside in the sun for two hours, holding a mug of tea, soaking in the warm rays while laundry sits unfolded and dishes unwashed.

It’s not the way I mean for it to be. It’s not the way I want it to be.

But I know why it’s that way.

My life is a series of rapid-fire crises, life-and-death decisions, unexpected rending of the fabric. The rhythm of the mundane is constantly punctuated by the staccato urgency of situations that require my immediate attention. Motherhood is like that anyway, to a certain degree, but adding my child’s disability needs to that mix increases frequency, urgency and duration exponentially.

And between crises, I am worrying about the next crisis, or brainstorming ways to avoid the previous crisis in the future, or praying for clarity about how to handle the crises that seem to repeat regularly.

Most crises knock you down, wear you out, deplete you. But some punch you in the gut and steal the air from your lungs, because in those moments you realize how little you have control over, how some crises are destined to recur. Some crises, no matter how hard you think and how hard you pray, you know you won’t be any better prepared the next time, or the time after that.

So, the in-between times are for rest.

The in-between times are for healing.

The in-between times are for breathing and thinking and making sense of it all.

They are for praying at leisure instead of in a panic, for forming prayers with actual words rather than just sob-choked gasps of, “Please, God!”

From the outside, the in-between times look like laziness or failure, but from here, they feel like an island of normal in a sea of chaos.