fly, little helicopter

Even when you think you have enough going on, life keeps happening and might even just pick up pace.

Vomit! Blood in vomit! ER visit! Helicopter transfer! PICU stay! And the end result? They don't know why. This isn't the first time, but it's the worst time. The other time, I didn't really think there was really blood (it was only slightly darker tinted spit after puking).

More questions, but no more answers for my sweet son.

What do you do when things aren't the way you planned? What do you do when life throws you curves? What do you do when your child has something wrong?

I'm having difficulty even thinking of it as a "disability." Disabled people have major issues or are older, right? They're not babies who look perfectly normal, right? But right now the baby, the youngest of our five, is certainly differently-abled even at eight months old.

We don't have a diagnosis yet (oh the system is a winding, long road full of waiting), but we'll move towards one hopefully in July after visiting with the pediatric neurologist.

How do you move forward when you don't even know the road you're on?

Me? I go running. It's my own way of coping. Of stretching beyond what I thought I knew. Of moving forward. Of literally putting one foot in front of the other.

So we find our new rhythm. Our new syncopation.