Another little boy gone. Post-Fontan, at one of the best hospitals in the country.
I knew it was coming. I just didn't expect it this morning. But there it was when I opened my bloglines, and I couldn't let her blog just sit there with a little bold (1) next to it and not know. Everything in me hoped so much that it was a miracle post, a turnaround, even something small, something positive. But it wasn't.
He never even made it home. They were going to go home with him and let him go while surrounded by everyone who loved him.
I don't know that I can go into work right now. I just want to go in and curl up behind Sammy in his bed and spend every next moment I can just loving him as much as I possibly can. Responsibility is tugging at me, reminding me that I have a job to do, that life goes on, but the rest of me knows that Sammy is our world now, and sometimes that needs to take precedence. I want to spend the morning taking him to the park and playing cars on the porch with him and letting him rest on my lap while he drinks his milk and watches Dora. I don't want to regret anything.
I'm scared.
I don't know.
The not knowing is the worst.





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!
