Last night I crept into your room, hoping to check on you without waking you.
I often do this. Come look at you while you sleep with a mixture of fear, relief, and joy.
When I lay you down at night, I imagine how comfortable and secure you must be. Freshly bathed. Clean jammies. Your bed where you have slept most of your life; where you feel safe. I make sure you have your loveys and pacie and kiss you good night.
And when I come back, I gaze at you and place my hand ever so lightly on your back. I wait, almost breathless myself, just long enough to feel the movement of your breathing, reassuring myself that you are indeed sleeping peacefully.
I wonder if I will ever walk into your room at night again and not fear that I will find you having a seizure. I wonder if I will ever forget the image of your face the times I have found you in bed having convulsions. I wonder if I will ever feel at peace again.
oh this is heartbreaking. I’m so sorry. Stay strong. Deep breath – every day he gets older, he will get stronger.