Everything is going to be alright...

in the end.

In light of all that has happened in the last eight days, I haven't had a moment to just take it all in and breathe.

Thursday afternoon, feeling a bit rundown, I needed to just veg on the couch while the kids played. Mason had me coloring some Cars coloring pages that he was then hanging up on his wall of art in our family room. In the process of it all it somehow he slipped, or lost his balance, or as he tells it-got dizzy, and fell off the stool. I didn't really see it. I just saw him disappear out of the corner of my eye and heard a really loud sickening bang, like his tiny head smacking something really hard.

He lay there on the floor between the train table and wall, not moving, not making a sound. In the time it took me to jump off the couch and run over (a matter of seconds) he was having some sort of an episode that I can only describe and assume was a Vasovagal syncope. Something I thought he had outgrown due to it having been almost two years since his last episode. But I saw him on the ground, eyes freakishly wide, tense and almost convulsing as he was emitting a groan like he was struggling. I got down to his level, touched his face and tried to get him to respond. Nothing. I tried so hard not to panic, screamed for Fred, and tried to get to him better but the train table was in the way. I struggled to move it, screamed for Fred again, sat back down at his head and called his name over and over till he finally came to. I asked him simple questions I knew he could answer to gage his mental state and if there was any damage. I could tell he was scared and in pain, full out crying at this point. I screamed for Fred one more time as I rushed to the other side of the train table and yanked with all my might. Mason tried to get up but I made him lay down for a little longer till Fred finally came upstairs and picked him up. At this point Mason was fine, saying his head hurt but no visible bruise and even making jokes. We gave him some ice cream to get his blood sugar up. Being a Vasovagal sufferer my whole life, I know that you need something like a cookie or juice after an episode and then you are perfectly fine.

As he sat at the table eating his ice cream, I slipped away to sit on the stairs, take a breather and cry. I cried and cried because I was scared, because I was tired, because I thought I was a failure, because I felt sick to my stomach. I heard Fred suggest Mason come over and give me a hug. Here was this little boy, only four years old, reassuring his mother that he was OK and me, a grown 31 year old woman, crying on my little boys shoulder, holding him so tight, unwilling to let go. I needed to release a little of my worry and my guilt. Mason kept telling me it was enough hugging, you know how boys are, and then as I tried to get my crying under control I hear him say, very matter of factly, "don't get any tears on my BumbleBee shirt, momma."

I had to laugh. He always knows just what to say. I bought him two Transformer t-shirts yesterday and he was super excited to wear them to school as soon as possible. He had already been very upset when I picked him up. Having gotten orange paint all over his other BumbleBee shirt while painting shirts for Spring Sing, and his teacher told him the paint wasn't washable. But, he didn't take into account my super mom powers which of course got the job done. So it was no surprise that he was focused on not getting this one ruined either.

Seriously, I must learn to focus on the truly important things in life, not that other frivolous stuff . Well, according to a four year old anyway.