I broke down in the playroom today.
Ronan wanted to go there this morning, so I carried him, and off we went. When we got there, he didn’t want to play. He just wanted me to hold him.
I sat in a chair and cradled him in my arms like I did when he was a newborn. We sat there for about 20 minutes while he looked up at the dragonflies hanging from the ceiling.
Looking at his little face made the tears come pouring out.
Once again, that feeling washed over me — I can’t believe this is happening.
I immediately felt like I was going to throw up.
Since the day he was born, he has been my sidekick pretty much 24/7. He goes everywhere with me. We do everything together. He is my best friend.
I just don’t understand any of this. I would have never imagined something like this could happen to us.
Ronan has another scan today, which means no eating or drinking after 10:00. That always makes for a grumpy Ronan. We have to wait until 4:00, and he will have to have anesthesia again. This will be the seventh time he’s had it since we’ve been here.
Poor guy.
He’s lying beside me watching Star Wars, mad because I won’t go get him any Otter Pops.
I hate these days. I hope 4:00 gets here really soon. I just want to take my baby home.
Tomorrow can’t get here soon enough.

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