Today I awoke battered and bruised; physically, mentally and emotionally.
My arms and legs show the signs of tiny fists and kicking feet trying desperately to understand what is happening and angry that mommy won’t give him what he needs.
I held him through a tube being placed in his nose and the screams that came after. I rocked, I carried, I sang till peace settled across his face.
This process repeated through an IV insertion in the middle of the night. At some point I lost track of time as nurses checked his sugars every so often. Morning brought a low sugar reading and a very lethargic little man.
I am powerless…how must my sweet boy feel?
Matt once took pictures of Brian thrashing in my arms. He said he wanted Brian to know what I went through for him. Here we are two years later and I still hold him. I don’t need him to know what I went through; I just need him to be okay.
October 31, 2014 was the first endoscopy/colonoscopy of this journey. Since then we have cried together through six more. April 24, 2017 marks scope number eight.
I can tell you exactly when and where each scope happened. I cannot forget my sweet boy’s face as the anesthesia took over. I remember every doctor and nurse along the way. I feel like I am becoming an expert and it sucks.
Fortunately, these doctors are amazing. They are working on scheduling more tests and appointments with other specialists. I am so grateful for all they do.
I am sitting in an empty pod, waiting for my little boy to return. “Friend” rests in my lap. All around me people are talking about the most ordinary things.
How did this become my ordinary?