So, it finally happened—I managed to get some sleep last night and feel much better. I’m trying to walk every day to keep myself sane, and I’m also planning my meals so that, when we go in, I’ll hopefully be at the top of my game, ready for potentially five or more nights of little sleep, and to be whatever Iz needs me to be, whenever she needs it, for as long as it takes to get through this next phase.

I’ve condensed my bazillion lists into just one, and we have a teacher training day today. I’m going to try to enjoy spending time with our son before the hospital stay because I miss him terribly when we are away and feel like I’m abandoning him, even though he understands. Mum guilt is always there.

The panic keeps creeping in, and so do the tears. All I want is to hold Iz constantly and not put her down. It’s the week of the surgery, and I still need to finish packing. I’m usually so organized, but packing for this makes it all feel so much more real, and that’s hard. Tomorrow… tomorrow will be packing day!