Deafening

When my world becomes quiet; when the day has drawn to a close, a new noise starts. It isn't born from my children's giggles while they play, or their screams when they fight. It is spawned from the rogue thoughts ,which can only be heard clearly when sleep steals my children's presence and when nothing can be heard at all.

Fear. It's jagged teeth rips into my chest so that it's putrid breath can stain my soul.  It begins as a slow creep; a butterfly in my stomach. I try to ignore it's ever looming presence but this week the whisper, the doubts, they have become deafening. The minutes count down to my son's next appointment, one which will likely define the need for surgery or not, and this fear I carry around deep in my gut, day after day, is slowly bubbling to the surface. I've managed a pretty convincing facade up until now, but the closer we get to his appointment the more the facade begins to crack. I try to continue on as I always have, and yet I know it's not the same. I don't have that feeling of contentment anymore. I no longer feel safe in this life I have created. My son's heart holds my little family hostage. And when the quiet comes, when the silence of night settles on my house, it is only broken by my sobs which are now no longer easily suppressed.

I'm exhausted. I'm scared. And the only thing I want in this world is for my child to heal. If my will alone could fix him, his heart would have healed the day the holes in his heart were discovered. I'm just so sick of waiting for the other shoe to drop. I wonder if Scott feels the same way. We are suffering the same circumstances but I wonder if we are suffering the same inner turmoil. We rarely discuss it, both too afraid to set the other one on edge. Too afraid to speak our inner most fears out loud in case the utterance of them somehow brings them to life.

We need a reprieve. We need a stay of execution. This life we have so neatly made for ourselves can only be continued if our son heals. If the worst comes to pass, if the very worst occurs, then this life we have created will end. It may be reborn, in one fashion or another, but the innocence of it... the innocence will have been slaughtered and the laughter will forever be a little emptier because it will be an echo of things that should have been.

While pregnant with Puck, while filled with promise and joy, and wonderment, Scott and I pledged "for better or worse"...we just never thought the worse would come to pass so quickly. And now we hope the better will be upon us just as fast...because truthfully I don't know how much longer we can cling to one another while ignoring the white elephant which shits on our souls, and pisses on our life.