touchy

I used to write. Not blog write, but actually write. But if people didn't ogle over it, I was hurt. If people did ogle over it, I figured it was cause they were biased cause they loved me. And so I hardly ever do it anymore. I'm too freakin' touchy.

I'm also touchy about my kids. Touchy about my husband. So I hardly ever divulge what I hold dearest to me (unless I'm attempting to make light of it) because I don't want anyone to squish it. It's like being afraid to walk around in your bathing suit because you're nervous about your post pregnancy kangaroo pouch and then, once you finally get the nerve up to strut your stuff, no one even notices that you're swimming. Do they not know how much freakin' work it took to get you out there?!? Apparently not.

So the drama drama that I mentioned surrounded our oldest, Big P. On Wednesday, he had a bunch of seizures and then went to take a nap and I went to check on him about 45 minutes after having a conversation with him (which ended with me telling him to go brush his teeth cause his breath stank) and he was unconscious. I screamed in his face, I slapped his legs and his torso. Nothing. There was vomit on his pillow and he wasn't home. Thankfully, mi madre was at the house and she helped me to carry him to the car so that we could get Husband and head to the ER. I exchanged mi madre for Husband and we sped off down the highway. Big P kept vomiting on himself and woke up a bit (as in opened his eyes - not actually woke up). It then appeared that he was seizing (he has complex partials) rather than the weird unconscious state that he had been in prior. It was bizarre and scary and no human should ever have to see their child like this.
Over and over and over.
He kept trying to take off his seatbelt and open the door while we were floating down the highway and I was crying and praying and he was fighting me with all of his strength. All I could think about was what if I hadn't gone in there to check on him. What if he had choked on his vomit. What if what if what if. We got to the hospital and I turned on my 'make jokes to lighten the crazy tense situation.' They gave him a bunch of sedatives and he finally stopped seizing. We went back to our vacation and I played it off like I am strong and in control and it's no big deal to almost have your kid die in your arms.

But it is and I hate this.