He just doesn’t seem right. Stop Jessie….be positive. Stop creating things. Why don’t you be happy? My thoughts of the previous month came rushing in when I heard the doctor say “The cyst is definitely bigger to the naked eye.” I knew it. He hasn’t been the carefree little boy he was after brain surgery. He has been burdened…struggling….cranky….and just not himself. I try and hold it together before I get off the phone. The doctor proceeded to talk about sending scans to Texas and I trailed off. Lord, why…how can we do this again. He’s so young. He shouldn’t have to go through surgery AGAIN. I don’t know if I can again. I hung up the phone with the doctor and I could tell I was losing it, I try to hold it together and look at the positives, I fail. I see my nephew standing in the room, I know he is almost 16 but I still found myself wanting to tell him to leave because I didn’t want him to see me like that . And the only words I get out are “Sweetie….sweetie.” I couldn’t even WILL my body to stand up and leave. And then there is no more control, I bury my head in my hands and let go. Life was so good..normal…I can’t go back. I don’t want to go back. I survived one brain surgery I shouldn’t have to go through another one. My baby boy….my baby boy. What can I do? NOTHING. My heart aches as questions rise. Does he know? Does he know I hurt for him? Does he know how much I love him? I go back to the beginning in my head…rocking him, trying to console him as he screams in pain from a migraine. Tears streaming down my face. I sing to him…he screams. There was nothing I could do to take the pain away. I bring myself back to the present moment and stand up. “I have to call Jake.” I make a couple phone calls and find myself driving into worship practice. I left both my boys with Nonnie and Aunt Mame. As I drive in I start talking to God. Thankyou for preparing me for this. Thankyou that it would be surgery and we don’t have to go back on chemo. However, do NOT prepare me for losing him. A lump catches in my throat. I speed up noticing I am only going 40mph. I’m not ok with that. I WILL not be ok with that. You figure out some other plan…cause that one won’t work. The tears start streaming down my face thinking of him being gone. Picturing his little casket. Trying to say goodbye. Watching it lower. I grip the steering wheel and try to breathe. Jessie what is wrong with you?….Stop it….you’re ok…he’s ok…for now. I pulled into the church parking lot and took a deep breathe. How are we going to do surgery again? What if there’s complications? What if the news after surgery isn’t so good? What if it’s Gods will I don’t get to love him anymore? WHY??? Why now? Why give us 2 months of normal AMAZING life and then take it away from me? Be thankful Jess….at least he is still here. You can touch him and hug him. At least he’s not gone. I wiped my eyes told myself to try and be as tough as my 4 yr. old is and walked into worship practice.