You know when you finally just say...aww F it. No one cares anyway. As each day passes and I haven't written I do the typical...tomorrow I will write. Tomorrow IS the day. The day comes and I put it off again only to realize here we are months later with no new post. AGAIN.
The scene that ensued was bad. I flipped out, and by flipped out I mean lost it. I knew the first 'traumatic thing to happen to Talon was going to be bad, but in hindsight I really saw the "PTSD" (and honestly I hate saying ptsd...I don't know why. It's just a title. A thing. Whatever. I digress.) Of course Talon was crying, a wooden picture nailed him just between the eyes, which in turn made his eyes bloodshot, but in my panic I swore his eyes were bleeding. I was screaming "his eyes are bleeding" to my husband. He, of course, kept telling me they were just bloodshot, but I couldn't see through the tears. I just saw red. I had swaddled him in his towel and was rocking him back and forth telling him how sorry I was. It's a weird feeling to think back to those 15 minutes. It was almost out of body. I literally couldn't breathe. He's ok. He was ok then I just needed to allow myself to see that.
I was changing his diaper just today and wrapped it all up and set it aside. Literally a habit from four years ago. You see we used to have to weigh Paxton's diapers even through his last surgery so that we were able to monitor his fluid output. I don't um...have to do that with Talon, but old habits die hard I suppose. I was kind of stunned when I caught myself today.
Life goes on though. PTSD or otherwise. I am working on working through it. I am working on redirecting my thoughts and trusting in this journey. Just as I have had to do so many times before. Talon is ok. He is healthy. I need to allow myself to believe that. Some days I just don't know how. Others I think to myself, you've so got this. I don't have control over any of my boys ultimately. I can only do what I can. I can't control when Paxton's heart is going to fail. It's going to one day. He has half a heart. One ventricle. Two chambers. Its hard to look at him and see that. It's hard to believe he's not perfectly whole and healthy. Man alive is he gorgeous. And smart and a total spitfire.
He's ok right now. I need to stop waiting for the bottom to fall out and enjoy the ok instead of worrying it away. And I learned, thanks to a damn good therapist, that its OK to worry. That its expected after everything we have been through. I find I am hard on myself about that...any other special needs mamas do this? I feel like if I just let it all go something is going to sneak up on me, much like jinxing myself, but if I stay guarded I will always be prepared. Horrible way to live right. Ain't nothin pretty about any of it, except the picture above. He is so worth it. He is worth every gray hair. Every sleepless night. Every anxiety ridden moment. I would live his journey all over again if it meant having him. I continue to live this journey for him. He is my inspiration every day. At baseball practice when he's sweating profusely with a chest guard on, wires taped to his chest and monitors hanging out his pants the kid is still smiling and not letting it stand in his way. If half the world had that outlook....