Today my heart aches. Last night, you had a very rough night. I wasn't sure why, though I assumed it was your cold. You woke up Callie, and I ended up "sleeping" in your room the rest of the night (which as you know means I didn't sleep at all). We didn't go to church today. At 4am, I decided we weren't going to church today. Around 5am you had a seizure in my arms. That hasn't happened in a while. Poor sweet girl. You were asleep when I heard the clicking sound in your throat -- you struggling for air I've always assumed. I put you on your side and begged you to come out of it quickly as I realized I only brought one Diastat to Michigan with us, and I always like to have a spare. You came out of it and began to kick your legs pretty severely as you've been doing the past 6 months or so when you come out of your seizures. Then, surprisingly, you feel right back to sleep in my arms. I've been going to the chiropracter here to fix my neck pain from the car accident, and I'm finally feeling normal. But after last night, my neck isn't feeling so pretty again. It was worth it. Every moment.
My heart isn't necessarily aching because of your seizure. Those suck. Let's be honest. I hate that you have them and it makes me sad every single time. Luckily, professionals believe there was a loss of consciousness during grand mals, so hopefully you don't remember much when they are done. What is really aching my heart, however, is news that we received this morning about a friend of ours. Their son, about 26 years old, is married and they have a baby. Last night, he had some seizures, and is now in the hospital with no brain activity. His seizures were the result of a different problem that occurred, but it still makes me fear for the day when you have a seizure, and that's it. I'll hold you in my arms as you convulse, but you won't come out of it. And instead of my heart aching, it will shatter. And I wonder at my ability to pick up all the little pieces. What would I ever do without you Sammy? I ache for our friends who are now suffering. I think about how much pain I would feel if we were to lose you, and we've only had 4 wonderful years with you. They are sitting in the hospital remembering 26 years of love and sacrifice and...love. Oh how I ache for them, and so much dread that day for us.
I do find peace in knowing that families are forever -- but the pain, I know, is still very real. I love you sweet girl. You are the sunshine in my life. You are amazing in all ways. You just light up a room with your smile, and you have lit up our lives. I'm not sure how it all worked out, but I'm sure lucky to be your mom. I love you with everything I have in me.
You'll always be my baby girl.
Pictures of you January, 2008.