That's the only word I can find to describe it - fragile.
I feel very much like I did the morning of September 11th, when I was waiting for Jay to get home from the city safely and my family was so far away and none of us knew what was coming next.
We're waiting on Sammy's cath date. It'll be in January. Every day is one day closer to December, closer to January, closer to a day of blood draws and pre-op and then they take him away again and I can't have my baby while they knock him out and stick things in his veins and explore his heart from the inside. The inside - the inside of my baby boy.
I'm waiting on my mammogram and the subsequent results. I go in on the 6th with the follow-up/screening results the following week. I know I'm okay, but what if I'm not?
I feel like I'm having a hard time keeping all the pieces together. This is not who I am.
Maybe it's just the full moon. Maybe it's the change in weather, the change in seasons, the moving closer and closer to Sammy's surgery. Maybe it's watching him change so drastically each and every day and not knowing what to expect next, not know what's coming next.
My sweet, energetic, assertive little man. My sweet, sweet boy. He doesn't know what's coming next, and that breaks my heart over and over and over. Everything is moving too, too fast and not fast enough. I want to be past this. I want to be me again. I want so much.
Some days are good, some are great, some are just considerably tougher. Today seems to be one of those.
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!
.
