This week, much like many other weeks, has been full of late nights and early mornings. There's an old song called My Elusive Dreams... that's kind of what this week has been.
Lennon has been waking up around 3 AM, usually because he's hungry. Yay, growth spurts! I'm still trying to figure out how to give him more calories (that aren't all liquid) before bed to keep him satiated until at least 5 AM. As much as I love our quiet mornings together, I don't like to function on 5 hours of sleep.
Not long ago, 8:30-9:00 was my typical bedtime. Lately, I've been struggling to fall asleep... watching the clock pass 10, 11, 12, and even 1.
Now, normally I have pretty standard mom/teacher brain, where I lie awake and contemplate the universe, but this week has been exceptionally difficult. I go over and over the phone calls and letters from doctors, insurance companies, extended health services, and the other household stuff. I think about my students, my coworkers, my kiddos, my husband (obviously not in that order) and evaluate whether I'm doing the best I can do with each given situation. Maybe I'm putting too much pressure on myself.
Dad is working exceptionally hard, taking on extra shifts, making more of the tough parenting calls so that I don't have to, and being supportive of my concerns.
The kids (mostly just the brothers) are starting to struggle a little more with the idea of Lennon being "sick," especially when their teachers approach them. They tend to classify sick as going to the doctor, ER, or hospital. They don't understand that his mitochondrial disease is considered a sickness. I guess I'm not sure how to make it clearer to them without painting such a grim picture. Sister seems to understand more, but sometimes outside influences confuse her.
There's no manual for this... there's no secret shut-off for your brain, no book of answers for our family, and no travel guide for the journey ahead. We take each day as it comes and celebrate each success we have. Even though the nights are late and the mornings are early, there are amazing moments along the way.
An ongoing tale about the lessons we've learned with our youngest son and his diagnosis with the CARS2 gene mutation...
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3 years, 2 months, 16 days (and then some)
It has finally happened. You've been gone longer than you were here. I miss you every day my beautiful boy.
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