When you’ve only ever been blessed with healthy children, you know Mother’s Day will mean handmade cards, presents wrapped in Kleenex, and maybe a gift that Dad helped with. I know because here I sit, the day before Mother’s Day and my three girls are whispering about the gifts they made at school and asking me what they should tell Daddy to shop for.
It’s sweet. I’m blessed.
But this year all I can think about is last year. My husband had flown to another state to be with his family after his dad had a major emergency surgery. He had been gone for a few days. Our little man, Bo, had been handed a scary diagnosis two months earlier and had been put on a medication that had changed his personality completely.
But at least he was seizure free. A whole two months. I was breathing easier even being the only adult in the house.
And then I saw it…Bo was walking through the yard. His eyes rolled up in his head and his head drooped. His shoulders rolled forward. He kept walking, but I knew something wasn’t right.
I’d heard of seizures called drops, Bo had even had one or two in the minutes before a grand mal seizure, but never just walking around.
My stomach sank. My heart hurt. It was a new seizure type.
And then it happened again.
I called my husband in tears to tell him. I called the on-call neurologist who put him on new medications and raised his current medications.
I cried myself to sleep that Mother’s Day… feeling like a failure. Like I let another type of seizure “get him”.
The summer of 2017 was incredibly hard… those droopy-headed half-seconds, officially called atonic seizures, turned into bigger muscle loss. By July he was having over 25 of these seizures a day, and they were lasting long enough that he was falling in his face with 90% of them.
The story continues from there, but that’s a post for another day.
I don’t remember my first Mother’s Day with all four of my kids in my arms, but I doubt I will ever forget the Mother’s Day that broke my heart. That Mother’s Day will always mark “the time the drops started”.
Unfortunately, as moms, we can’t remember the happy moments of every special day, but we can easily recall the bad. So this Mother’s Day, dwell on the happy, ask someone to take a picture, write a note in the calendar about what you did…
Remember the “Happy” in Mother’s Day
*This post was originally published on my previous blog: The Strong Mom Life