I Get So Emotional, Baby

I swear, I SWEAR, it's just a coincidence that it has "get" in the title.

This morning, I was sitting with my son's speech therapist, trying to tell her about the neurologist appointment from last week, and I just couldn't get the words out. I just kept crying and feeling stupid. She was really nice and pointed out that the way I'm feeling is perfectly normal and that it's important to work through this, but I still felt like an idiot, because really, who wants to lose it completely in front of a very nice person you barely know?

One of the things I said to her was that for the next few weeks -- until we get the bloodwork back -- and then, possibly, for the rest of his life, we're going to ask ourselves, "Is he doing XYZ because that's normal? Or because of this syndrome?" And we'll never really know. I'm totally like those -- what are they, second year med students? -- the ones who get the big book of diseases to study and promptly decide they're suffering from the most obscure ailments known to man. Every symptom I read about, I give my son. And then I try to sit down and be rational and objective, which is just SO not working out for me right now, and it's just insane.

The speech therapist, Mel, said something like, "Well, you know, God never gives you more than you can handle." And I said, "Yeah, I don't really believe in that anymore. I remember thinking, when my son was in the NICU, 'Um, God? Who exactly do you think you have here? I can't handle this.'" And Mel said, "But you did." And I said, "Well, maybe, but not with GRACE. I mean, I just barely made it." And she said something to the effect of it not being a graded performance, more like a pass/fail class, but you know those people? The ones who take a crisis and just glide through it? Yeah, that's not me. I'm more like the cursing, stomping, shaking her fist at the world kind of crisis-goer. Like, I'm the person you DON'T want around during your crisis.

In fact, in an effort to win the all time World's Worst Mother award, I give you this: my son is scheduled for an MRI of his BRAIN in three weeks. This involves IV sedation. Know what that means? It means HE CAN'T EAT OR DRINK FOR LIKE 8 HOURS BEFORE WE GO TO THE HOSPITAL. Do you think, for even one second, that I can handle that? Well, guess what? I can't. I told my husband today -- and I know for sure that he has not yet processed what I told him or else he doesn't think I'm serious, but I am -- that I cannot even be around to witness this AND I am not going to the hospital for the MRI. I'm going to stay home with the baby (who, granted, will be all of 6 weeks and does actually kind of need me). And I'm going to lock myself in my bedroom in the morning when my precious boy can't have his breakfast. Becuase I cannot bear to see him ask for juice or pancakes and be denied. And no matter how loud I have to make the TV, I will block out the sound of his cries because I am THAT WEAK.