Noah is back to spitting up like crazy and having seizures regularly. It's enough to make me want to curl up in a ball and hide. It's so much harder to deal when I get a glimpse of an almost normal life and then it's ripped away.
It's almost like God is laughing at us. Teasing us.
"Here, let me show you a bit of happiness, fewer seizures, and a baby who eats well. Poof! I'm taking it away!" Ha ha ha!
I'm not seeing his sense of humor apparently. I'm taking it very personally and obviously I'm in a bad head space.
I thought things were going to get better and actually stay that way. I was sorely mistaken.
My parents have left which also doesn't help my attitude. It was amazing to have them here and painful to watch them leave.
In the past week two families have lost a child. Both are weighing very heavily on my heart. I have feared losing my child since our 20 week ultrasound, through three major surgeries, and a seizure disorder. Losing Noah is always in the back of my mind. So when I hear about someone else losing their child I have to wonder what makes me so special that I get to keep mine, hug him, love him, and kiss him for another day?
And knowing all of this makes it harder to deal with my feelings. I have such guilt. I should appreciate what I have (I know this). I may have a spitting up, seizing baby who doesn't respond to me but at least I have my baby. And I AM grateful for Noah, that he's healthy (in the cold and flu season sense), and my family. I really am, but I want more.
I'm sick of "at least" always being in my sentences. I'm sick of people looking at my life and appreciating theirs MORE.
I just want my son to get better and it's not happening.