do something

Trevy's seizures have been just awful. Awful!


It's probably a wean-thing.


Last week school went much more smoothly. Trevy didn't even whimper as I left the room. I was inwardly "Go-Trevy" dancing! I want him to enjoy school. And to be okay if I'm not there to hold his hand all the time. Whether or not I'm okay is beside the point.


::smile::


I watched from the mommy room. As he played in the ball pit. And then had a cluster. As he engaged with his teachers. And pals. And as the seizures just kept coming. I wept again as his teachers smothered him in cuddles. And love. Sheesh...I'm misting up just remembering. Definitely a heart-prick that'll stick for awhile.


Anyway...


After class wraps up his teacher always chats about his day for a few. She was SO concerned about his increased seizures.



The worst ever...



...she said.



It was written all over her face. In her eyes. Body language.



She was telling me so that I would do something about it. So I could make it stop. Breaking their hearts. And stealing him away.



And as I sat there nodding. But knowing. It was kind of epiphany for me. I wish to God that I could make it stop. That I had the power to slay the seizure monster. But I've come to terms with the fact that I can't. And maybe never will. We'll keep fighting...



buuuuut...



Some miracles aren't meant for here. Some miracles are waiting There. I can hardly believe how...at peace? Calm? Accepting? Non of those words really fit...



It just felt very surreal. Sitting on the floor snuggling seizure-sleepy Trevy. Listening to her. Which sounded just like (forever-ago) me. And instead hear (knows-way-too-much-about-med-resistant-seizures)me trying to lead her across the bridge. Into my world. Trevy's world. Waiting for a miracle world. The world where sometimes you can't slay the seizure monster. And the only thing you really can do is exactly what they have been doing. Smother the baby in love.



::sigh::



Anyway...