For more information Fibromyalgia Association Created for Education and Self Help (FACES, Inc.) P. O. Box 528504 Chicago, IL 60652 773-936-4183 www.fibrocop.org/aboutfacesindex.htm Fibromyalgia Alliance of America, Inc. P.O. Box 21990 Columbus, OH 43221-0990 614-457-4222 National Fibromyalgia Association 2200 N. Glassell St., Suite A Orange, CA 92865 714-921-0150 www.fmaware.org (sponsors National Fibromyalgia Awareness Day, May 11 to 13) American Fibromyalgia Syndrome Association 6380 E. Tanque Verde Road Suite D, Tucson, AZ 85715 520-733-1570 www.afsafund.org

I did have the support of family and friends. My mom told me that she prayed for me at her Rosary Society meetings. My sister, Andrea, was there to listen to my tantrums and to assure me God was listening. My children, Leah and Matthew, told me it was OK that I missed a band concert here, an ice-cream social there. I had so many friends and family members who were there for me. My husband, Peter, was my rock. He not only took me to my appointments and listened to my fears; he also played the role of Mr. Mom when I could not. Most importantly, Peter was the one who started to turn this all around for me without even knowing.

After 10 months of pain and fatigue, and exhausting all the doctors and opinions I possibly could, I was laying in bed asking, “Why? Why me? Why now?” I was spouting those questions out loud into the darkness of my room, convinced that I was talking to empty air. As the anger built, I remembered something that Peter had told me I relay to my kids when things aren’t going their way: “No is an answer,” Peter had said, “and you have to have as much acceptance with that answer as you do with yes.” I do not know why that lesson hit me then and not before. Maybe I was finally starting to listen. That night I began to feel a bit of comfort and less anger.

About a week later, my doctor decided I needed a two-week medical leave. I needed to take a break from the constant physical and mental push it took to get through my day. Throughout all of this, I had still been working 30 hours a week and donning the Supermom’s cape as much as possible. I left the doctor’s office with a determination to spend my leave truly looking at my life and my priorities, and figuring out where God was calling me. I needed to listen to his answer instead of blocking it out and waiting for mine. I started to really think about my husband’s words. Though I do not think God was saying “no” to me, He was answering me in different ways.

During this time, I kept thinking about my calling as a mom. New definitions of motherhood evolved. I started to let go of the “super” part of mom. I always thought I was being a good mom if I got my kids to all their swim practices and dance recitals and attended every one of their extracurricular events. Now, as fibromyalgia took over more of my life, I physically had to slow down, and in the process other priorities took over. Slowly I began to realize that I was getting my answers.