Nod yes, blink yes.

Here I am, sitting by my mom's bedside again. Watching her take her breaths, deep, relaxed, and sleep-like.
This is surreal.
But want to know something wild? On Christmas Day, or technically Boxing Day midnight. I was woken with a start by the medical team, all fussing over mom because she was crashing. The odd or not so odd sense of calm I felt was comforting. It's now 48 hours later, since mom decided she wanted to fight on, so I have hindsight now.
I felt incredibly calm about mom crashing that night, because 1. this was not even close to the worst crash I experienced over the week I've been by her bedside, and 2. I had been working on accepting her death was going to happen. Not that I had already completed the 5 stages of grief by any means.
And the decisions that night happened so naturally, we pulled mom's life support (all medications to support her heart, reduced her breathing support), and ensured she was pain-free.
We were told her body wouldn't make it very far without the support.
As the minutes ticked by, her breath got shallower and shallower. We held her, we loved on her, we praised God for her, and we said our "see you laters".
Minutes turned into half hour, which turned into an hour, and she just kept her shallow breaths going. She was responding to our love, our words, our songs, our cries. Every so often throughout the night, the nurses would knock to see if everyone was okay or how mom was doing.
The hour turned turned into 2 hours, then I joked about how if mom's still here in a couple more hours, the docs and I are going to have a real talking-to and conversation.
And 4 hours later, mom was still breathing on her own with minimal support, warm bodied, and still responding to our lively banter about our favorite mom and Costco memories. We laughed, we cried, we shared.
Then something told me, "ASK HER!" I jumped out of my seat, brought my face close to face her and ask, "Mom, do you want to fight?" She nodded. "Mom, if you want to keep fighting, blink". She blinked. "Mom, do you want me to get the doctors and get you back? Blink if yes." She blinked hard.
I promised her in that moment I would do everything to give her time, and ran out to the nurses station. I pleaded, "I don't unserstand how this is happening, but my mom is still here and she says she wants to keep fighting and I need your help."

The team at the nurses station rallied quickly and told me they needed more time. "How much?" I asked. "40 minutes"
I ran back to mom's side, "Mom, they're coming. We know what you want and we are on your side. You've been doing this for 4 hours, we need another 40 minutes. Try ok? but if you can't, it's OK. You are loved and you are safe, and He is with you."

The hospital team moved in a flurry and got mom setup the best way they could, back on the medication and her air support, stabilizing her. But reality is, she's on borrowed time.

When she was woke up and was lucid, she asked how much time does she have left, we said, "As much as you fight for, we are on your side."

My mom showed me how the strength of one's will can overcome and God's will be done. She showed me that she is control of her own time.