Yesterday my youngest turned 14. It was a pretty good day, in that respect. I took us to lunch at our favorite China Buffet, we joked around and had a pretty good time. Big Guy & I got him a nifty t-shirt and the new Skillet cd, which went over WELL. :)
Then, after dropping him off at the other "parents'" home, I went on to work, a little later than usual.
We were watching Dr. Phil, talking to a young girl who was 7 months pregnant and tested positive for pot, coke, and heroin. She was in denial and so Phil showed her a video of what newborns go through when born to addicted mothers. They were going through withdrawal, and looked to be underweight, etc. The whole shebang. She was visibly shaken, as were the rest of us, viewing.
Shortly before that, on my way to work, I'd gotten a text from my older son telling me his heart pains were more intense and breathing was more difficult than usual. It's been increasingly harder for him to have any kind of normalcy in his daily life, for several months, now.
I told him to call and ask the nurse what he should do, and it was decided that he would go to the (IU) ER.
While I was watching the Dr. Phil show, it was ironic that this was the subject matter, on today, and this was going on with my baby.
I contacted my boss and was able to join my son in the ER after he'd been there for a couple of hours. I got to talk to him, but mostly I listened to him. He talked about how scared he is, but puts on a happy face, b/c "somebody's got to", and how he just wants to do normal things, that everyone else can do. He wants to be able to play soccer...but even if they give him a transplant, there's no guarantee that he'll be better afterward. (His "dad" is in the process of rejecting the liver he was given a year ago.)
I tried to be strong. I looked away, I talked about silly things with him. I tried not to give away how I was really feeling. I talked about the family dynamics with him...he talked about how he hates hospitals, and I said I feel the same...and I tried not to cry.
By the time I was about to leave, he'd been put into a room (overnight, thankfully, he got home-to Grandma's- this afternoon), and I was unable to get out without crying.
I wonder all the time whether he knows how much I love him. I am filled with regret when I think of the years of living in the subsidized apartments. Years of anger, despair, depression, and struggling just to maintain some small semblance of sanity.
I've thought many times of updating you all, but I've been, you know, busy working. That's the good news. Yesterday was just a bump in the road. God is good and He hears our prayers. I told B that there are a lot of people praying for him. He didn't reply, but that's ok.
I'm ok because I know Who's in charge.