Bad Day

Of all the ridicoulous scenarios where my children are threatened and I am near helpless to protest them, illness was not one. I remember both of my kids first sickness. Poor little things struggling to breathe through their plugged noses while they nurse. With my daughter I remember it being the first realization that I can't protect her from everything. With my son, I was angry at his overly-affectionate sister for spreading her germ. I wasn't qurie as vulnerable to the idea of him getting sick, which seems ironic now.

My son may have something called scaphocephaly. It is unconfirmed, but according to how the doctors are rushing the process, I'm pretty sure that will be the verdict. How do you live your life normally when soon your babys head may have to be sliced open? Everything else seems pretty silly and unimportant. And this is how I feel even before a diagnosis! I'm going to be a real headcase if/when the shit really hits the fan.

I don't really write about my kids that much. I didn't want this to be a "mommy blog" but I am a mommy, so it's unavoidable. I love my daughter with all of my heart, but she's two, and she's smart and she pushes my buttons like no other. There are no words for my feelings for my son. Really, no words. The words that come close are cheesy lines that you can find in Valentines Day cards. I love him so much. If anything happens to him I think it will wreck me. I hope to not become one of those parents who shuts down and neglects the surviving child, but after laying judgement on those people, I can suddenly undrstand how it might happen.

That won't happen though! We're going to come through this fine, and maybe my little ray of sunshine will show me how to smile and be optimistic. If he could talk, he'd probably tell me to RELAX!