I now keep my toothbrush in my purse. I keep my mind from going places that are too scary for words. And I keep a constant vigil at the bedside of the strongest, most beautiful baby boy. So many things have changed in the last 24 hours. One minute I was climbing the stairs to give good night kisses and in the very next instant I found myself climbing into the cockpit of the small airplane that would serve as the best route of transportation for my very sick baby.
When did all of this happen? At what point did I go from playing patty-cake and tickle games to counting respirations and pushing tubes aside just so I can touch his hand? When did I stop thinking of myself as a veteran momma with routines and answers and become this scared, uncertain bystander questioning every single decision I've made over the last year? I know that there are no answers to my questions. It has become abundantly clear that you don't get answers in this new world, at least not without adding a dozen more questions. But, I still have to ask them, even if only in written form. I need to a way to make the arbitrary concrete. I need to be able to do something to bring my brain out of hyperdrive for a few minutes.
Everyone surrounding us has been absolutely amazing. It is nothing short of a miracle the way that our support system has come together in this time of crisis. I am in constant awe of the display of love and support that we have been given. The medical teams are outstanding. Their knowledge and level of expertise is truly incredible. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else at a time like this. New people keep coming in to take care of my boy and each one has commented on how cute he is, and how they love his dark hair. Although this makes me smile inside, it also makes me want to scream. I want to tell them that they aren't seeing my baby. Sure the child lying in this bed is beautiful, but he isn't the person that I know. I want to tell them how he already knows that he likes ice cream better than any other food he's ever tried. I want them to see the scrunchy face he makes when he's playing and being silly. I want them to see how he follows my every move, making sure that Mommy isn't going too far. Unfortunately this also makes me wonder if I have seen these things for the last time. I know that the thought is morbid, but that doesn't mean that it isn't there, always threatening.
I have already learned so much in the past day and a half. My own nursing knowledge has been tested and has grown further than I have ever wanted. But I have also learned other things. I've discovered things about my husband and myself and this life we've created. I know that we have surrounded ourselves with only the best friends, that we have been given amazing family. We have family by chance and family by choice, and although I knew at one time, I can no longer remember who falls into which category. I have learned that although I may not be perfect, I am absolutely certain that I have chosen the best Daddy for my babies.
We are constantly checking each of Easton's organs and making sure that they are functioning properly. It is great to know that his kidneys and liver are great, and that he has the heart of superman. This last one makes me especially happy because I know all too well what it's like when that particular area isn't working. I can say this because each time I look over at my beautiful, motionless baby boy I know that my own heart is broken.