Falling Apart...

There's no other way to describe it right now:  I feel like I'm falling apart.  Well, like our little world is spiraling out of control at the moment.

It's more than illnesses at this point - even though that has been stressful and never-ending and isolating and worrisome and a trigger for a lot of trapped grief and emotions.  No big whoop.

It's more than illness - even though Hope caught ANOTHER cold... even though her yeast rash got WORSE and I had to go back to the original medication, Nystatin ointment, out of desperation... even though I then caught a cold and I feel like crap.

It's more than illness - even though illness has caused us to cancel MANY things.  Ed and Hope missed the family Christmas party... Brian missed a friend's birthday party... we had to sell our tickets to Disney on Ice (and we had really great seats that I bought months and months in advance)... we had to cancel a trip to meet my first Great Nephew, William, in New Hampshire - TWICE... and the list goes on.

It's more than illness - even though Hope's issues, whether it was Croup or the Flu or teeth or a painful yeast rash or a cold or a combination of two or more has kept her up at night wanting something, anything, desperately from Mommy to make it better.  Sometimes I got lucky and could - sometimes it was an extra long night for both of us.

It's more than illness.  There's an underlying stress about Ed's company relocating to Lexington, MA and the uncertainty of all of that.

And it was never more apparent that it was more than colds and canceled birthday parties and the flu and sleepless nights until this morning.  Suddenly all of that meant nothing.

"Mommy?  Do I have gym class today?" Brian asked me.

"No, buddy - that is on Wednesday,"  I replied.

"Good."  He seemed relieved.

"Why good?  I thought you loved gym!"  

"I do.  But every time we run I can't catch my breath and my chest hurts.  That's all," he said as he put his hand on his HEART.

And then he left my arms to get on the bus.

Brian has had a heart murmur his whole life - and until this morning has never shown any symptoms or had any complaints.  I took him to see a Cardiologist (at duPont, of course) when he had just turned four and was told that the murmur was innocent and not to worry.

Well, today - I have cause to worry.

I immediately called the office of Dr. Gina Baffa - the cardiologist that treated Gavin in his final days.  She fit Brian in immediately this Wednesday at 2.

Maybe it's nothing.

Maybe it's something.

Either way - I'm falling apart as things continue to get piled on top of me.

You'd think after 5 1/2 years with Gavin - when one issue after another was piled on top of me on a monthly, weekly, sometimes daily basis - that I'd not be phased by this.

But that's where you'd be wrong.  With Gavin, I was only ever "blindsided" three times.  

- When he was born and it became apparent that something was wrong - but no one knew what.

- When he suffered a severe corneal abrasion and we spent months trying to save his eye, which included unlacing his stitched-closed eye every two hours to apply ointment - and he still came close to losing his eye.  That was a pretty stressful time.  You can read about just ONE of my meltdowns during that time in this CaringBridge post.

- The biggest blindside of them all?  When a stupid febrile seizure - out of the blue - stopped his heart and ended his life.

I'm not used to expecting anything from Brian.  So now I'm scared.

Maybe it's nothing.

Maybe it's something.

But suddenly the last three months of constant illnesses and frustrations seem insignificant. 

I will write again after Wednesday's appointment.

Please, if you could, send positive energy and fervent prayers our way...