A Moment

I finally have a moment to sit here and blog for a few minutes. I know everyone always says, "Well, I've just been busy," but in my case, it really is not an overstatement. Here's a breakdown:

Cohen was diagnosed with CF on February 6th. It was devastating to me to hear those words when I got the call. I was pretty numb about it for several days after. He was hospitalized on the 12th to have I.V. antibiotics to prevent a bacterial infection from forming in his lungs because he had had a persistent cough. He was (thankfully) released from the hospital two days later (on Emberlynn's 2nd birthday, which was also Valentine's Day).

I went back to work on February 18th. I really want to be able to stay at home with my two kids, especially because caring for two children with CF is so extremely demanding. Unfortunately, we can't afford for me to do that at this point. I cry about it a lot. My time at home with them consists of feeding them (nursing Cohen and doing Em's feeding tube) and doing chest physiotherapy and breathing treatments. And my time away from them while at work could be time spent with them just playing and having downtime together. I feel like after I do all the "requirements" for them to help fight their disease, I am so spent that there is nothing left of me to give as a mother or a wife. It's hard to explain. Basically, I feel like the best of me is gone and I can't give a hundred percent to my husband or my kids.

I look at my children and see these perfect little beings and wonder how this ugly disease can be inside them. It literally makes my heart ache wondering how long they have. It's morbid, but it's true, and I don't know what I would do if I outlived both my children. Children are supposed to bury their parents, not the other way around. I know everyone worries about their own children; it's in a parent's nature. But when your children have a life-shortening disease and their health is in your hands every single day, it can make you sick with fear.

I know everyone is going to say to think positively and to just pray and to look at all the good. I do all that, trust me. But I have these moments when I just want to curl up and cry and hold my babies and beg God to make them better. Like right now. You would too, if it were you.

I know I shouldn't worry...but I do anyway...

I have tons of thoughts going on in my head lately. And since blogging is pretty much like "writing" in a diary to me, I am going to lay them all out there right now.

1. I am getting very used to having two children. Strangely, I feel like I have always had two. It's weird, but true: after you have a children, you can't imagine life without them, and it feels like they have always been there. Things are a little more chaotic with two rather than one, but I feel like I am balancing everything pretty well now. However, I will admit that I have yet to go to a store with both kids by myself. Matt or someone else is always with me. It's not that I don't think I can't "handle" two, it's the fact that they both would have to ride in the cart, and then where would I put the merchandise?? Exactly.

2. Cohen might have CF. This is terrifying for me. I know that it's something we know about and are used to because of Emberlynn, but it really doesn't make it any easier. If Cohen has it, I don't think I'll ever be able to completely forgive myself for deliberately bringing another child into the world knowing that he could end up with it, too. I know we did not purposely give it to Emberlynn, but we knew after having her that every child we have has a 25% chance of having the disease. At this point, we know from one of the blood tests that Cohen is a carrier of CF (one gene was identified) , but it will be a few more weeks before we know if he has the other gene, which means he has CF. I'm trying to prepare myself. When I was pregnant with him, I told myself that if he ended up with CF I could emotionally handle it, but now that he is here and I look at him and want to protect him from everything, I really don't think I can take it. I will never forget the day Emberlynn was diagnosed and how I cried myself to sleep that night, wishing there was some way I could take the disease from her and let it be my burden, not hers. I don't want that for my son, either.

I'll end on a positive note: I have two incredible, amazing, wonderful, beautiful children, and I would not trade being their mother for anything in the world, no matter what.