Limbo

I want to think I am over things. I want to stop having nightmares and getting angry about things that happened.

Recently, the trauma that we experienced came back full force. It hurt like mad to think about it all and what was worse, Blair was gone. I feel like such a broken record, talking about these things now that we're doing so well. Not that Dean is doing so well. I feel like people will get tired of hearing it or be frustrated with me for not getting over it. I had all these pent up emotions last weekend, didn't know who to talk to, cried a lot around four in the morning, and wished like mad that Blair was hear to listen to me.

Last year around this time we were blind sighted with another hospital stay, one that ended with him having his second surgery. The ER trips are always rough. They fit so many procedures into a tiny amount of time to make sure that your kiddo is ok. It's invasive and it's rough.

I still mourn the loss of my time with my son as my baby. I still miss cuddling this tin little squishy bundle and being home and having every one tell me how cute he is instead of asking how he's doing. I still wish I had gotten to take him home when he was a day old instead of sending him for a surgery when he was three days old. I still have nightmares and panic attacks about medical procedures. I still cringe and panic when I hear the sound of a helicopter.

The wounds are healing, but they are itching.

I still have a hard time when any one else has a healthy baby. I struggle with my own heart and the things we have gone through. I remind myself often that I'm being a petty jerk and I need to move on. I do. It just hurts for a second before I can.

And. I am angry. I didn't realize how much until recently. I am. I just am angry that my son had to go through it, that I had to go through and I'm angry that now that things are so calm and stable that I can't flip the switch in my brain that tells me I can stop panicking. And his third surgery may not be for months and years, but it feels like we are just waiting and waiting and waiting for it. Waiting to see how it goes for him. Waiting to see if he's one of the ones who it kills, waiting to see how long we will be in the hospital. Our whole lives based off of "we will see how the third surgery goes". It's always there. Always in the back of my mind.

It is a frustrating time for me. And I just feel a little lost.