I'm so afraid we have irretrievably broken our son. This morning he was super clingy and refused to put his shoes on to leave the house with Steve. I took him and rocked him for a little bit with his head on my shoulder. Out of nowhere he asks, "Do you have to go to the hop-pital today?"
Six weeks after we dropped him at his grandparents' house and his life was changed forever, he is apparently still plagued by the uncertainty and fear.
I asked him why we would have to go to the hospital and he said, "I don't know," and shrugged his shoulders.
I wanted to break down and cry one of those in-your-bones crying jags that seem to happen all too frequently these days. He shouldn't know about the uncertainty of life at three years old! I want to scream at the universe that this is unfair to him! Mommy and Daddy should be constants that he doesn't ever question being there for him. He shouldn't worry that we're going to disappear to the hospital again and leave him damn it! I'm so angry that this situation has turned my self-confident independent little man into an insecure and worried little boy.
The sadness over losing Alex I can handle. I'm not sure what to do about the stark fear that I heard in Sam's voice this morning. Just who do I talk to about that anyway? Dear God...not only is my Alex gone, but now my Sam is suffering...a little help down here sure would be nice.