Murpheys Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.
Do you ever have those weeks when you wonder what else on earth could go wrong? I don't have very many of those, because the reality is that losing a child puts a WHOLE lot into perspective. It doesn't mean I don't have bad days, but I care a whole lot less about those days than I do the ones where things go right. I feel ungrateful talking about those bad days, but I also realize that that's what makes us human - the good AND the bad.
Well, Mr. Howard went out of town to Canada a few weeks ago for work and I had one of THOSE weeks. I was so excited he was going - because I felt like it was such an awesome opportunity. An opportunity for growth. An opportunity to add an awesome experience to his resume. And a fun opportunity to travel. I was so thrilled that I didn't even really think about what that would mean (that I'd have to manage pick-ups, drop offs, therapies, dinners, mornings, baths, etc. for 8 days). It wasn't until he was packing that the reality sort of hit me. In the interest of full disclosure, I want to say that I am so blessed. I have my brother and soon-to-be sister-in-law living with us and so I knew I would also have help if I needed it!
The morning came when I was to drive Mr. Howard to the airport at 3:45am and as luck would have it, I had such a bad stomach flu that I couldn't even drive. Perhaps that should have been my sign of the week I had coming. He had to drive himself to the airport, while I sat in the passenger seat trying to convince myself I felt okay. I had a playdate scheduled for that day which I had to cancel because there was no way I'd survive. I spent the rest of the day at home, trying to do my best to distract the kids from wanting to be held and cuddled (yikes!). I survived, of course, but I certainly was missing my superman hubby!
Then on Monday evening, Connor let me know that he was in pain. I did my normal "you're fine" routine and sent Connor on his way. (He is very into telling me every ache and pain right now..."my legs are so tired, Mama; I'm not sure I can walk down the stairs by myself"..."My head hurts from all this looking I've been doing; I need to rest my eyes"...). It wasn't until I watched him sort of hobbling around that I thought to take him seriously. He told me his boy parts were hurting and sure enough they were not looking too good. When I called an advice nurse, she asked me how long it would take me to get to the hospital and suggested I get in the car immediately. Apparently, they were worried about torsion of the *** (I don't want to write the word out - because I do not want google to index my website for that word...but it ends in **icles). When we got there, the doctor was prepping me for the idea of surgery and taking me through what would happen. I was so thankful my brother and his fiancé were at the house and could stay with the twins while they were sleeping. But for the life of me, I could not get ahold of my husband in Canada to let him know what was going on.
When that dear hubby of mine came home the next week, I was BEYOND ready for a nice, hot bath and nap. I crawled into the tub and relaxed. I had just shut my eyes when Mr. Howard came sprinting in, held a towel out, and told me I needed to get out because Isabella had split open her eye and needed to go to the emergency room. It seemed only fitting that my "Super Mom week" ended with my hubby haven't to put on his Super Man cape. (P.S. She was fine and we didn't end up taking her to emergency because we got her eye to stop bleeding).