Because you've started asking, yes, I'm still here. Tired. Overwhelmed. Sometimes sad, sometimes better, sometimes even doing well. Sometimes scared, sometimes just exhausted. Doing well with working (all of three hours a day), forgot how much I love teaching, forgot how natural it feels, but also forgot how much work it is, how much energy it takes. Sammy loves Eli - they have a great time together, which makes me feel better leaving them in the morning.
The days are flying. Months are flying. I don't do well when I feel like time is going too fast. I need to stop reading heart blogs, can't stop reading heart blogs. I hate not knowing what the future holds. On the brink of tears most of the time. Dreading his cardiology appointment next month, knowing it sets the ball rolling to his next surgery.
One day I imagine I'll feel normal again. I used to be so much stronger. In the meantime, I feel like I'm just getting through, one day at a time, trying to control something, anything, because I know I don't have control over the one thing I so deeply wish I did. I think a lot about how much it all just sucks. And then I tell myself - we have it so much easier, so much better than some families. We didn't have a lot of the problems others families had. We still have our son with us. A family just lost their son, post-Fontan. He was doing great, and then out of the blue - pneumonia. And that was it. I don't have the language to express just how cruel that is - they made it through the surgeries, and then pneumonia? What the f*ck?
I know nothing is a given, for any of us, but if one more person tells me that I need to live in the moment, I might lose my shit completely. It's pretty damned easy to say that when you don't have an open-heart surgery on your child hanging over your head, when you're faced with visions of what he's going to go through. I keep giving myself permission not to think about what they're going to do to my sweet, sweet son, but it's hard not to sometimes. And that commercial with the woman talking about how her daughter cut her finger, and then the doctor said it was INFECTED? Oh no! Not an infected cut in her finger! It makes me want to throw things. Hard.
I'm angry and sad and just want time to stay right here, right now, or speed up to where he's four and he's okay and we're all okay again. He's just such an awesome, incredible little boy and things like this should never, ever happen to kids, to babies. He should not have to go what he has to. It's not right, it's not fair.
So yeah. Sometimes it's just easier not to say anything at all, because then you get a post like this.





My name is erika-renee, but call me eka - pronounced "eh-ka." I'm suddenly somehow 32, though I still love pigtails and overalls and silly, happy things. I live north of Boston, and I'm happily married to
I'm a mama!
