Over the weekend Mikey fell into the pool, was pulled out by Jared and given semi CPR (as Jared noticed complications with breathing), went into a febrile seizure, spiked a fever of 103 point-something degrees, and taken in an ambulance to the hospital. He was given meds, an IV, and admitted for observation. His stay was brief, 24 hours. And it was truly the hardest, most painful 24 hours I think Jared and I have ever been through. At his follow up visit with his pediatrician, he was ordered neurological tests to make sure everything upstairs is fully functional, and though I'm sure it is, I cannot help but feel shadowed by a huge "what if?" It sneaks in as soon as I think I can relax and feel safe . . . "what if?"
When I first flew into the ICU, saw him lying there on the gurney with tubes and needles, Jared looking SO weak and SO scared, I wanted to die. I thought, "this is too much. I’m not strong enough." I wanted to die because I was so scared of the pain I would feel if Mikey did not... if anything happened…I was scared of what I could not handle as a mother. I was scared of that darkness. And there were times during those 24 hours that I was NOT strong enough, that I lost it, times when I knew what "going crazy" really meant. The night Mikey came home from the hospital he slept in the bed between me and Jared (sick or not, that’s his usual spot) and after he fell asleep Jared and I just laid in bed staring at him, much the way we did the night we brought him home from the hospital when he was first born. We kissed him all over; touching him, caressing him, smelling him, loving him, because we were given a glimpse of a future that we never want to experience, a future where we have voids that would rapidly eat us away…
It's difficult to convey just how helpless I felt and I'm sure Jared felt the same way, if not worse. All I could think about was how much we had waited for Mikey; planned his conception, his birth, his absolute beauty, and even his life - the path he would take, the choices he would make (how they'd all be the right ones and we would have our selves to thank), and the man he would become. I begged God to "make this okay, just make this okay" I made promises to Him, anything and everything, I just wanted my Mikey. Those 24 hours he was in the hospital with an IV, and up until this very moment, I cannot help but recognize just how precious he is to me, just how much I love him, just how much I need him. I suppose it isn’t until the existence of something you treasure most in the world is threatened, that you learn just how fragile that existence really is. But it also makes me scared, very scared that I might one day feel that overwhelmingly paralyzing feeling of being helpless, knowing that we are so small in this very big universe, that at any moment a candle's flame could suddenly . . . extinguish.
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