This week has left me feeling numb and shell-shocked.
My brain has gone into safety mode. It has just enough energy for what my kids need and what my job needs. And even then, just barely. I’ve found myself staring for hours at the same sentence on my computer screen. The time between lunch and dinner seems to fly by, but I’m not really sure how I spent it.
Sleeping is practically non-existent. I’m an insomniac anyway, but the incident with James on Saturday has kicked it into overdrive. I just want to stare at him all the time and make sure he’s okay. It reminds me of the fear I had when my children were tiny, fresh babies. They felt so fragile and helpless. James, despite the fact that he runs, climbs, and jumps off of everything, feels fragile to me again.
And I feel helpless.
I haven’t been able to process anything. I usually have my guard up this week to protect myself, but I’m afraid to let it down. I watched as the comments, emails, text, and messages came in on the sixth and seventh but I couldn’t read any of them. As much as it means to me to see that Maddie, James, and our family are in the thoughts of so many, I just haven’t been able to open a single note. I am too afraid it will push me over the edge.
I can’t get the images of James’ limp body out of my mind. I begged him to wake up and stay with me, just like I begged his sister. I’m so thankful he came to, but I’m also so aware of how quickly things can happen. While I feel relief that our trusted family doctor thinks this was likely an isolated incident, the fear that it could possibly happen again will be hanging over us. The ‘what ifs’ could stack up.
James’ neurology appointment is next Thursday and I know I’ll be holding my breath until then. I’m not sure what the doctor has in store but I’m hopeful everything will go smoothly and we’ll get answers as soon as possible. I think that will be when I can finally get out of this fog and work through what’s happened. I hope.