A couple of days ago, I held Jake's hands and rubbed his head while someone from IV tried and failed three times to place a peripheral IV line. This isn't a quick poke or pinch from a needle. They tie off each limb with a rubber band looking for their best vein, find a promising one, then poke, move the needle around, poke some more until they either get it or need to try again. All the while, Jake screams, cries, and writhes in pain and I am helpless to do anything for him.
I've been feeling helpless a lot lately. This morning, Jake went for another catheterization. There's nothing to describe the feeling of turning your child over to doctors and saying, "Please take care of him." You watch him go through those doors and your heart screams, "PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE BE OK." Then you wait, and wait, and wait for what seems like forever just to hear he made it through and he's doing well.
There is nothing that will be harder than this.
This morning Greg came into the room and woke Jake up. Jake opened his eyes and smiled wide at him as if to say, "Don't worry, I'm going to be just fine." So with helplessness comes hopefullness and optimism. Our boy is the strongest person we know. He's a fighter and our hero and we love him more than anything. The wait is excruciating but we know he'll be back, and will open his eyes and give us that gorgeous grin again soon.
Be strong bug. Mommy and Daddy love you.
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