I pray it was lucky number seven - as in, the last one. I don't know how many more times I can take it, truly. And I'm starting to worry about the effect of all this anesthesia on my little boy and his developing body and brain. When we walked in I was able to greet the recovery nurse by name, because our son has woken up with him twice before. He didn't remember us, which I completely understand. For me a day like today is terrifying. For him it's, you know, Friday.
So I've been up since 5 a.m. (we had to be at the hospital at 7, which is when we usually get up), I spent 4 hours at the hospital, I feel like I've barely eaten because since AJ couldn't eat, we didn't either, and I'm just totally out of whack. In fact I just looked at the calendar and was startled to discover it's still Friday.
I'm having a late-night snack of cinnamon toast and tea with lots of sugar and cream. Turns out I was starving. I just finished the top half of a little outfit I'm sewing for a special birthday girl whose party is tomorrow. We're going to the zoo in the morning with my best friend from middle school and her family, then to the birthday in the afternoon. I'll finish up the outfit in between and try to remember to take a photo.
I'm so thankful my kids are ok, and that all our problems have been pretty small problems in the grand scheme of things.
That was pretty random, I guess. Just wanted to get those thoughts out.