Freak Outs and Freaks Ins

Several Thanksgiving Days ago, I broke the toilet in the upstairs bathroom at my future inlaws' house. I crept down the stairs, whispered into my now husband's ear that THERE WAS AN EMERGENCY upstairs. I'm not sure, exactly, what he thought it was that was THE EMERGENCY, but he promptly went upstairs and as I told him the story, he laughed, told me he could fix it, and sent me back downstairs so people wouldn't think we were engaging in hanky panky on the upper level of the house. Long story short(er) he couldn't fix it, my future FIL was called in, a part needed to be procured from Menards ON THANKSGIVING DAY, and I was forever the girl who broke the toilet on Thanksgiving until I was the girl who didn't invite children to her wedding until I was the girl who was Baby O's godmother.

Then on Thursday I became the girl who broke the chair when she came back to the table with a second plate of deliciousness.

I'm never going to Iowa again for Thanksgiving.

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I woke up Thursday night in a panic, screaming. The boy managed to calm me down before I woke up the neighborhood, but here's the deal, there's too much going on right now. I handle it fine when I'm awake and I can joke the shadows away, but the way things are going right now, it will be a small miracle if I have a nightmare free night before next June. And then things will inevitably take another turn for the ridiculous.

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I don't talk much about my husband's health here. It's not my story to tell. But the variety of diagnoses and medicines the poor man deals with on a daily basis are enough to make any sane person's head spin.

In early 2009, we went to the Mayo Clinic for some workups on my husband. The news that came out of it was not great, but not awful. But now everything is wrong. He is a walking skeleton, a bundle of nerves, and his immune system is not serving him well. He tells me not to worry. He tells me that he will deal with this, as he has dealt with it in the past.

I am scared.

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My sister-in-law and brother-in-law really want a baby. They have their names down on lists for several adoption agencies. She is on all kinds of fertility drugs. The fertility drugs are not interacting well with her diabetes medications and her insulin levels are up and down and up and down in no recognizable pattern. She wants a baby so badly she is quite possibly killing herself.

I am scared.

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Baby K is eighteen months old. She can not sit up by herself. She can walk for small stretches at a time using the most adorable baby walker you've ever seen. Contrasted with her brother (20 minutes older) and her younger cousin (three months younger) who are running around unsteadily on their little toddler legs, she is less strong, less coordinated, and less motivated to move.

They throw around terms - cerebral palsy, neurological damage, and delayed motor function - as if we know what they mean for our little girl. Would we change her treatment? Should we do something different?

I am scared.

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It was a fun Thanksgiving. The food was great. Our nieces and nephews were hilarious and made us laugh until our sides hurt. But now that I'm home and I'm processing all of this, I don't know what to do. Or what to say.

I am thankful for my life. I am thankful for my family. I am thankful that tomorrow we will all get up and do this again.