Today was our annual reality check.

Before autism, eye surgeries, infections and hospitalizations; before kidney problems, hearing aids, choking and vomiting; before speech, occupational, physical and behavioral therapy. Before it all, there was his heart.

I was six months pregnant when he got his first echocardiogram. I waddled down the halls of Nationwide Children’s Hospital, then laid upon a table while a doctor looked at the right ventricle of his heart. It couldn’t have been much bigger than a peanut. I was decidedly bigger than one.

When his rare heart condition worsened two months later, they took him from my belly and whisked him away to Nationwide Children’s in an ambulance while I, again, laid upon a table. This time I was miles away and I didn’t get to see him until two days later when they let me leave the hospital for a few hours. It was Mother’s Day. It was fitting, but gut-wrenching.

They told us he would be sedated until he reached five pounds and then he would need open heart surgery. They were, thankfully, wrong. He came home three weeks later without that surgery. Almost 12 years later, though, it’s still looming over our heads.

So each year we trek back to those same halls and now it’s my boy who climbs onto the table. We are all stronger than we once were. He is 52 pounds of unstoppable energy. I am not. But, when I spy parents wearing “CARDIOLOGY” badges we smile, nod, and give each other mental fist bumps.

He still needs open heart surgery at some point, but we’re waiting. Stalling, if you will. Hoping, praying, and prodding the doctors to improve their technology so they won’t have to cut his chest open, spread his ribs apart and cut into his heart with a knife.

He had a heart catheterization when he was 13 months old and it was one of the easier surgeries he’s had. This is what we hope for. This is why we’re glad he’s small and grows slowly, so that his heart can keep up and each year that passes we know the doctors get closer to fixing this in a less invasive way. Today I chanted, “We want a heart cath! We want a heart cath!” If only my cheerleading could be enough to make it happen.

For today, though, he is stable and that’s really all we can ask for. That, and one more year until we have to walk those halls again.

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Last week my son got upset by something he had seen on television. He was sitting with both of us, completely supervised, but it was a movie scene which was a little too violent for his special needs brain to wrap itself around. Thanks a lot, Gollum.

My husband kept playing the stereotypical man card saying things like, “You’re fine! Go to bed.” I, on the other hand, hugged my boy, wiped his tears, and explained why we thought he’d be able to handle watching it (even though *cough* I knew he wouldn’t) and then we discussed, at length, the difference between traditional animation and computer animation.

At the end of the night, he put his 50 lb. body on my lap and said, “Dad says I got upset because I have too much of you in me, but I’m glad I do because you care.” I told him that he has plenty of his father in him and that Dad does care, but doesn’t know how to show it. Then I called a therapist for my husband. Not really, but I thought about it.

A couple of days later, my son and I were driving when we saw a stray dog. I stopped my car to help, but someone came out of a nearby apartment and took over the rescue operation. As we drove away, my son piped up from the back seat, “I’m kind of glad we didn’t have to help that dog.”

“Why, buddy?”

He replied, “Well, I can say this because it’s just you and me, right? I thought it was kind of ugly because it was one of those dogs whose tail stands up in the air and you can see its butthole.”

I laughed, “You sound like your dad!”

Excitedly, he said, “I do? I guess I do have him in me after all!”

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I didn’t want to do it.

I had New Year’s week off and I promised my kids I wouldn’t turn on my computer. We were going to do fun stuff, I was going to go to the gym every day, we were going to sleep in, catch up on everything that has fallen behind, and start 2014 off with a clean slate. I was going to roll it in with positivity and light.

Pffft.

Instead, on my daughter’s 15th birthday, December 29th, I started to feel not great. I was already not great, but this was especially not great. If you’re keeping track, my vacation started on December 30th.

I won’t go into how I spent four days freezing cold despite layer upon layer of clothes and blankets and constant ingestion of herbal tea. I won’t tell you how I could barely move from room to room without having to sit down and catch my breath, how I still cough so hard I vomit, or that I’m in a whole lot of pain from a combination of bronchitis and pleurisy (with a sinus infection thrown in for good measure). Wait, I guess I just told you.

We’re now six days into this year – so 2014, that’s how we gonna do?

Oh, wait. You had to throw in a polar vortex. It’s like Day After Tomorrow in my front yard and I’ve spent less than TWO hours outside of my house in the last SEVEN days. You’re going to make sure I make it eight, eh? If you were a Sooner and I was wearing boots, I’d dive-bomb you and start kicking. You and I are going to roll. Just not yet because I can’t breathe, but when I can …

What I want is some positivity and light. I want a fresh start and not this hacking cough, no sleep, and kids who can’t even sit on the couch next to their sick mother. I want changes that I can’t make when I’m lying in bed.

I want my 2014 back. One way or another I will get it, and this revenge is going to be so, so sweet.

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Yesterday was my daughter’s 15th birthday. I didn’t write a post for her because I don’t know how many times I can say what an amazing miracle she is, how proud we are, or how much I love watching her grow up without people rolling their eyes and saying, “We know! We know, already!” So instead of typing away on my computer, we went to church, ate Chinese food, went bowling, cut into an ice cream cake, and ran errands. Nothing bonds you with your child on her birthday like searching through clearance Christmas lights at Walmart.

Today, we’re going to do more of the same. I have a few days off and I’m going to spend as much of that time with my kids doing things we don’t get to do very often and some stuff we do all the time, but for which I won’t be distracted. Grocery shopping can actually be an enjoyable experience when you don’t have deadlines looming.

I hope you all had wonderful family moments like bowling and Chinese food over the past few weeks and I wish you beautiful memories in the New Year. Without further ado, here are my favorite posts from 2013.

January – I reflected on parenting and how impossible and beautiful it can be at the same time. Oh, and I can’t forget that dance.

February – February was all about love and marriage. And, trauma.

March – I focused on the correlation between my mind, body and homemade wine.

April – A rough month, filled with a lot of anxiety – as you can probably see from this post.

May – My heart was broken by my son’s former school and we made a life-changing decision for him because of it.

June – I celebrated six years of blogging! And, I wrote a letter to my dad.

July – Rash decisions were made.

August – Mommy-blogging was alive and well!

September – Keepin’ it real, yo’. Just keepin’ it real.

October – I wrote 10 Things for My Daughter in Case I Die and drew a picture for my son.

November – My son took his disability public. Or, at least to the driveway.

December – The Favorite Christmas Songs series was a ton of fun to make, but acting like Kenny Rogers? Bonus.

Cheers and happiness to a fabulous 2014!

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