Medical

 My boy has some weird sleep habits. Weird in a way that may be a seizure or other not ideal condition. It's hard being the mom in this position, where you have no one to empathize with. Ky isn't great with emotions. He handles things like a doctor in a TV show does. A kind pat on the leg and silence. His family is worse. You could say "my leg turned purple and flew off my body and now I'm legless" and they'd say "Did you see the Chargers game?" My parents are slightly better but weirdly aggressive. "I'm very concerned" my mom will say in a stern voice without any follow up. She may throw in a comment that I baby my son too much afterwards and I'm neglecting my daughter. Never mind I feel like I am constantly drowning in medical drama and sorrow, trying hard not to go down Google paths of despair, all while basking in the unknowing darkness of "wait and see." I can now feel guilt that I don't spend enough time doting on my daughter because my sons seizure habits are more pressing than her needing me to hold a bottle. 

In general I am completely and totally overwhelmed. If I could throw money at the problem I would. If I could fix this, I would. But I am at the alter of prayer and doctors availability. I don't know that many people are mentally prepared for "abnormal health problems of their toddler." It's not in parenting books, not that I read those. I end up Googling, freaking out, and then distracting myself. I spent hours at work looking at sweaters I don't need, in colors I can't pull off, for prices I don't want to spend. I had almost convinced myself I needed to buy them. Or I read and watch the drama of other people's lives on Reddit or Bravo. In short I am not thriving. Not even a little bit. 

Every episode boy has I about shit myself. Fight or flight? No. Poop your pants? Yes, that should help lighten me up to disappear from this world. My poop is my harness to reality, I must rid myself of it. Meanwhile I'm exhausted. We all are. Back to back pregnancies both requiring MRI's to check the head. Sweet girl had ultrasounds every week, inarguably her situation seemed worse for longer, and now that she's out she's just a beauty queen full of squawks. She seems fine and yet we are at the neurologist every month without answers. Boy now has taken up the helm of appointment needs since the first seizure. The big one where his lips turned blue and he vomited and I was a collapsed lump on a fire station lawn in the cold in my pajamas, Ky in his boxers. Again fight or flight, I picked crumple to the ground after screaming uselessly. I know I got him to the fire station and called 911. Thank heavens that is drilled into every American, but I still feel I shit the bed on handling it, not literally this time.

So again I am left adrift. It's pregnancy all over again. Terrified, alone, and without answers. Feeling like I am doing nothing, feeling like I can do nothing, trying to avoid the internet while being concerned enough to figure out what appointments I need to schedule. Reading enough to know what to do (seizure: turn to side, open mouth, 911 and time it, turn to side, open mouth, 911 and time it, turn to side, open mouth, 911 and time it). 

Again of course I am not alone. But how does anyone else know what this feels like? They do of course, but how do you convey to a person I am here for you, I see you, I feel what you feel, I am scared too. Not scared. Terrified. Paralyzed. I can't do this, but I have to try. And I will try while I feel completely and utterly alone in this. Because I am alive and while I am alive I will try. I have been reading the worst of the worst. Well it's time for me to hope that this isn't the thing I fear. And if it is I hope he's the one who outgrows it. And if he isn't I hope he's the 7 out of 10 who can use medicine to help. And if he isn't then he's the 70% who improve after surgery. I will try and support my kids with everything I have. All my money and all my heart and all my prayers and all my mind.