|Logan on left, and “Born of Fire” meaning of Aidan’s name on right|
Having a sick baby is not uncommon. Especially if the “sickness” is flu, upset tummy, and so forth. This is the norm and as emotional as having a sick child is, it’s one of those things we know we have to deal with and we just do. Because we are moms and that’s like on page one of the job description.
Why then did I find myself clutching an overheating toddler while fighting back tears at the emergency room of our local hospital just a night ago?
Why did it feel like my heart was being ripped out and that I was punched so hard in the stomach I could hardly breath…
Why did I want everyone to shut up and stop talking sense and in fact just wake me up when it was all over.
I realised that it wasn’t just about Aidan, it was largely about Logan…
This hospital where I was holding my son while waiting my turn is where I came looking for help with Logan and this is where I had to leave him behind.
The fear and nausea inducing sadness was not coming from my head, but my heart. I had somehow convinced myself of ridiculous unfounded things and making myself sick…
In my head;
I was here to bring Aidan to the hospital and again return home empty handed.
I would have to pack up his clothes and toys and give everything away…I would have to endure the pain, the heartbreak and the stigma all over again.
My life would yet again come to a stand still and this time around I wasn’t so sure if I could start it up again, or if I would want to.
Naturally I was getting ahead of myself. Aidan simply had a fever brought on by flu. He was happily chatting away and being very brave and cooperative with the tests. I was the one “not well”.
He was praised for being a good patient and one of the sweetest toddlers they had seen. He was his usual busy self so why was I a basket case?
It’s the first time Aidan has been back to the hospital he was born at, the hospital he spent the first days of his life learning to breath at (I wasn’t sure he would ever come home) and the hospital his brother stopped breathing at 🙁
This place has so many memories , good and bad, and I guess taking him there was just another plaster that needed to be ripped off.
I forget how damaged I still am, how my heart isn’t completely whole yet…but it’s a journey this grieving thing and even though I get a flat tyre or run out of petrol every now and again, the journey goes on 🙂