Not being in control. And being scared of it. (Part II)

It’s been a rough last week for me. And my husband. A rough week full of anger, fear and sadness. I knew that I needed to write about it…if anything to help myself to get over it and to try to digest it. To try to make sense of it. And hopefully to get support from my friends. So here it goes…and since it is a long story, I will put it up over the next couple of days in a few posts. (Read Part I here)

Part II

Telling the hubby wasn’t easy…mostly because I didn’t really know what to tell him, but I also wanted to just break down and cry. Cry at the thought that my baby might have something really wrong with him. But I did find a way to spit out the news to Chris…and his response was what I expected. Upset, sad and full of questions. Questions that I didn’t have the answers to. The worst thing was that he was at work and I couldn’t see him to get the hug that I so desperately needed from him. I needed strength from someone if I was going to continue to give mine to the little one that was in the backseat of my car still crying over having his blood taken.

Then it seemed like everything began spinning even more out of control. In the span of about 30 minutes I received two calls that just made everything seem worse. The specialist that we had seen earlier in the day called because after talking with some colleagues it was determined that since Caleb was only four that there was no need to expose him to unncesseary radiation, so the CT scan was being changed to an ultrasound. And then she dropped the bomb that she also believed that the test needed to be done ASAP, so I should expect a call from the local children’s hospital to schedule the test for Monday…only 2 days away! Within 15 minutes of the call from the doctor, the hospital called to set up the test for first thing Monday morning and told us to have him at the hospital by 7am.

It was all happening so fast and I was so very scared for my wonderful, sweet little boy.

All that I kept thinking over and over again in my head was “Why?” -- Why was this happening? What was happening? Hadn’t our family already been though enough over the past few years with my husband’s Crohn’s disease, my grandmothers passing and Caleb’s club feet?

I just hugged my little one and spent the rest of the afternoon devoting myself to just being with him and spending every moment that I could with him. When my husband got home from work, he did the same. It became not about what might happen to him or us, but instead just an evening of living in the moment and spending time together as a family.

And that is how we spent the rest of the weekend. Just being together. Just holding each other. Playing. Running. Going to the park. We went bowling with another family. Instinctively we just knew that being together was what was going to hold us together and help us get through this.

At least during the daylight hours. Because at night I wasn’t sleeping. At night I found myself holding my breath for fear that I would start crying and that I wouldn’t be able to stop. I still couldn’t believe that they thought that something could be seriously wrong with my baby boy. And that the something that could be wrong was his heart.

I felt like my heart was breaking. But I made it through the weekend. With a smile plastered on my face. And I was ready to take on Monday morning and whatever it would bring. I would face it and deal with it. I knew that I could handle it…mostly because my husband would be next to me and we would weather this storm like we had with all of the others that came before. We would do it together and everything would be ok. Because it had to be.

To be continued - Part III tomorrow…