I know its been a while… a long while. I didn’t mean for it to be such a long hiatus… but that is LIFE. I don’t even know what to say or even where to start. But here I am, finally resurfacing… well, because I need to. Taking it day by day. So I’m going to try to put my emotions to words.
Even before my son was born, I lived with this silent fear of losing him. As different diagnosis’ came in, I was always convinced this was it. This was all before he was even born. That fear never went away even when he blessed us with his appearance. I’d even venture to say it grew even more with every moment I got to know him and fall in love with him. Always nagging there in the back of my head. Always making small prayers of thankfulness whenever we reach a milestone. Always making new goals and yet still ever afraid. I don’t talk to anyone about these fears, not even my husband. I feel its a burden only a mom should feel. It’s not to say I don’t have these same fears about my daughter, but in a much less extreme way. She isn’t tainted. In fact she’s rather pure, my clarity and my anchor when those fears have me gripping the edge of my seat.
I almost went over the edge recently. It’s no secret my little guy is a little clumsy and you might even be able to dismiss it to the craziness of a 2 year old boy. That’s what I always try to do. But he fell… down the stairs. and then he fell again… and again… and again. Nurse Mommy, muah, went a little crazy thinking he might have fractured his skull and called the doctor. Not for his advice but to let him know that I was taking him to the ER as I know he would have suggested himself. Sometimes I need that reassurance that I’m not that crazy Nurse Mommy. So my little man was sedated and had a CT scan where it was revealed, to us anyway, that he had an arachnoid cyst. It seems it was there last year on a previous, routine (another long story), scan, but no one mentioned that to us. It was the VERY first time we had heard this. And we were devastated because it was growing. GROWING and no one had ever told us it was there in the first place! I had to put that aside and just deal with this growing cyst. GROWING CYST.
If there was ever a true moment I’ve contemplated suicide, this was one of them. I just didn’t know if I could bear it. I know I wouldn’t because of Ava, but if I lost my beautiful Marcus who ran to me every time when I came home with such joy, I would rather die. I hope I don’t sound crazy, but it is the most unbearable pain to feel, the thought of losing your child to something out of your control and I just don’t know what I am capable of handling when it comes to my children. My sister always says God gives you only as much as you can handle and I want to scream. I’m not as strong as he thinks, especially when it comes to the two little people I love more than life itself. And yet I’ve found strength in increments.
I love my husband for his quiet calm. I was emotionless outside and dying inside and he just gave me my space. As we traveled from one doctor’s visit to the next, he let me be silent. But he picked me up when I broke down in the middle of a department store as we quietly tried to restore some normalcy to a week that was so not. He let me cry it out and then recompose myself and once again be silent. He tried to help as best he could. If you came to our house now, you’ll see he’s installed toddler level handle bars all over the stairs. While it has no bearing on his cyst, I think it made him feel better and me, safer. We’ve walked in quiet tandem. We haven’t told our immediate family because I just can’t form the words to explain how this is happening to their beloved little Marcus. In all of this, my husband also lost his beloved grandmother, the proud matriarch of the family. It was devastating to everyone and sharing Marcus’ condition with them would have been too overwhelming. It’s okay though… really it is. I won’t say it isn’t strange living in a house where his grandparents are clueless to his condition, although I think they have their suspicions that all may not be well — I mean after the ER my husband didn’t go to work for a week with doctors visits left and right, not to mention the hovering and spoiling of both kids… I’d like to think they are trusting us, as parents, to handle this our way.
As much as we’re hovering over him, we don’t want him to have anything other than a normal day, a normal life… just the way he loves it. We’ll dance to Fresh Beat Band with him and help him build his train tracks and endlessly say chugga chugga choo to his laughter and delight.
So there it is. Why I’ve been so MIA. But don’t worry, I’m picking myself up… and taking it day by day. Everyday is a gift and I will hug and kiss my kids as much as I can. I no longer care if my son sleeps in our bed until he’s a teen, he can stay as long as he wants. He can breastfeed until he wants to quit.
Life resumes as usual. I have been going to work and it really is my happy place. I spend it with new moms and their babies. Nothing gives me more joy than a mom successfully breastfeeding, whether its because I’ve helped her or her baby was a natural. I come home every morning to that same excitable, palpable welcome from my kids and maybe I might hug them for a smidge longer but it is business as usual once again.
Tonight I went to the launch party for Jessica Alba’s new company (baby), Honest Company, –just another bit of normal in my life — and I think she said it best, “My passion is my kids…” I just couldn’t help nodding my head.
I will no longer sweat the small stuff. I will relish in their joys. Because when things are out of your control, all you can do is take it one day at a time.