On Cavities and Cancer

So Tripp made it through. Woo-hoo!

He and daddy are snoozing right now and even though I, too, am exhausted, I can't bring myself to close my eyes for a second.

Too much to process.

Trust me. I realize there is absolutely no comparison between cancer and cavities, but I couldn't help but connect the two all day long. I know. It makes absolutely no sense to me either.

Actually, it started yesterday.

Naptime.

Tripp was in his last 30 minutes of slumber and I took this as an opportunity to lay next to him, hold his hand and just watch him sleep. Because what if?

I know. It's an awful thought.

What if the unthinkable happened?

Again.

What if I had known which day was Addie's last?

I would have spent every waking minute lying next to her, just watching her take in a breath and let it out.

This morning.

"Goodbye, Tripp," Isaac said as he rubbed his eyes. "I love you."

What if?

What if Isaac had had the chance to tell his sister goodbye? Would it have been better? Or worse?

A vitals check.

"This is going to give your arm a little hug," the nurse instructed as she put the miniature blood pressure cuff around Tripp's arm.

My eyes focused on the monitors while my mind took me back to Addie's ICU suite where I spent my days so fixated on her blood pressure and oxygen levels. Tripp's was at 113. How dangerously low was it that Addie's got that first night?

Going over possible complications.

The anesthegiologist talked about nausea and vomiting, a sore throat and barky cough due to a tube being placed down his nose.

I asked if any possible reactions might occur once we left the hospital.

What I really wanted to ask was is there a chance he might die?

It feels really awful to admit that, but really, nothing is out-of-bounds for me anymore.

Waiting.

Tripp was scared. He wanted mommy to go with him (until they gave him the good-feeling medicine).

And that's when I realized Addie was a warrior in all this.

If she was scared, she never showed it.

Not when they drained fluid from her heart. Not when they placed a central line in her chest.

We. Were. Scared.

But not of death. That notion never entered our mind.

Now it does (no matter how ridiculous that seems). Which is why I'll go and check on the two sleeping babies to make sure their stomachs are still moving up and down and up and down.

Again.