Spider

I get as squeamish as the next person when it comes to spiders.  I'm no Ron Weasley, but I prefer my spiders outside and away from me.  I hate walking through spiderwebs, I hate losing that spider you were just about to kill, I hate the crunch the big ones make when you squash them in your wad of toilet paper.  Yuck.

However unnerving and creepy spiders are, they are pretty remarkable.  Those resilient little suckers always manage to jump out of the toilet paper wad when I haven't squeezed it tight enough.  Or they expertly find the one tiny crack in the wall and wedge all eight legs inside so you can't get them.  Or there's their little web flying trick they do.  Or they climb up that water spout again and again an again.  

Whether it's escaping the wrath of Sarah, or getting where they need to go, they never give up.

So, it's very fitting that Olivia's number one jam is Itsy Bitsy Spider.  It was the first song she showed interest in and remains her favorite.  It is sung in our home what feels like hundreds of times each day and is so loved that Olivia got a special Itsy Bitsy Spider finger puppet book from Santa just a month ago.  

Olivia is my very own itsy bitsy spider.  Of course, I only want to squish her cheeks with kisses and only use tissue to squash her snotty nose but she is my ever resilient little thing.  She amazes me with her energy and excitement for life.  When it comes to playing, she's more of a lover and will often let others take toys from her but when it comes to life she is a fighter.  Though she can't tell me what's wrong directly she uses her own methods of letting me know something's up.  She never slows down, even when her heart and body are exhausted.  She plays through the blue tinged fingers and toes and dances through the panting.  Even on the rare occasions when it is all too much, Olivia takes her rest, waits for the sun to dry the rain, and climbs up the spout again.  

Olivia had her cath a couple of days ago.  We were relieved to receive good news.  Olivia's numbers are good.  With a couple of collaterals coiled she is set to go and we are already seeing an improvement in her sats.  I'm sitting here watching her play with her stacking rings, trying as hard as she can to fit them onto her feet and wearing them as bracelets.  I can see the leftover sticky residue from her bandages on her leg and neck.  The evidence of her continual fight is right there.  The evidence of her strength resides in that mischievous glimmer in her beautiful brown eyes, in her sweet smiles that she hands out to all who just look, and her determination in getting that Elmo beanie on her head just right.  Olivia picked a pretty good favorite song.  

Anger

I'm trying to get a handle on things but 2014 just isn't starting out like I'd hoped.  Ok, let's be honest.  I wasn't that hopeful for 2014.  I was scared to death thinking of a new year and what it would hold.  I'm finding that the future no longer excites me.  Not that I spend all day everyday all doomy and gloomy.  I've become more of a "live in the moment" person rather than a "plan for the future" person.  Honestly, I can't think about the future because that future might possibly contain an enormous amount of pain.
With Olivia's latest health issue being "possible heart failure" I've taken a step back on my road to recovery.
I've spoken to several heart mother's about the mourning process we go through.  True, we're not all mourning the actual loss of our child.  Instead we mourn the health that our children don't have.  We mourn the pokies they endure, the illnesses they're more prone to suffer, the exhaustion their incomplete little heart causes them.
Now, I don't know all the stages of grief off the top of my head but I've heard plenty about the angry stage.  And that seems to be the one I get stuck on.  With each new set-back in Olivia's health I seem to go through my own little mourning process.  I do my denial, crying, and so on.  But every time, without fail I get stuck on the anger.  It gets a little ridiculous to the point where I find myself being angry and children who are healthy or families who's biggest challenge seems to be getting on a good nap schedule.  And then I get mad at myself for being mad for such ridiculous reasons.  It's a viscous cycle.
So, I am currently in my angry stage.  I still can't believe that heart failure is even something that should cross my mind with every cough or blue tinged finger.  I sit there, watching Olivia who looks completely healthy.  She acts totally fine while she colors, fights with big sister, or makes faces at me.  She is perfectly happy and content and I sit here fuming that my seemingly healthy baby may in fact be sick inside.
I get angry that so much of my future depends on the next doctors appointment.  I get angry that while others are talking about the new exciting things in there lives the only thing I can offer to a conversation is heart related.  I get angry that so often the answer to "How are your girls?" is only partially positive.  I get angry that when I answer that question honestly I'm met with sympathetic looks.
I know.  I know.  This is all anger and grumpiness.  But don't worry about me.  I always come around to that "acceptance" part of the grieving process.  It may take a while and if we receive bad news on Tuesday after Olivia's cath it will take even longer but I will get there.
Just don't tell me to not worry or to stay positive.  That just makes me more angry.  Just be patient with me and, even if you don't understand, accept me in my anger.

Scare the Sanity

Though I've used it a lot since we started running with the heart crowd I have never really understood the phrase, "scare the hell out of me/him/her/it."  You'd think that would be a good thing.  To have the hell scared out should be such a relief.  Because let's face it, the anxiety, fear, loneliness, exhaustion, etc. that come with the hard times in this journey are the true hell.  I'm thinking I would love to truly have the hell scared out of me.  It would be such a relief.  Instead, I keep getting the sanity and peace scared out of me.  Super frustrating!
Over the past couple of months Olivia has been slowly scaring the sanity out of me.  Lower sats, lower energy and new on the scene, crappy appetite.  Naturally, this mama has gone the way of the crazies.  Anxiety's a bitch.  Pardon my french but like I said, sanity is gone!  But at least my anxiety has been vindicated.  Olivia had an echo on Friday and guess what glorious news we received?  Enlarged liver and decreased function.  Nothing like joining the heart failure club.  Nothing like finally realizing why you've been a basket case for the past two months.  Nothing like being hit by that big burly truck carrying the unwanted news you certainly weren't expecting.
Alright, let's be honest.  It's possible heart failure.  Not guaranteed.  There will be a cath asap and then we'll find out where we're sitting, what our options are, and on and on.
But my point is!  Why can't someone scare the hell out of me?  Please?  I don't like breaking down crying every few hours.  It's really a major pain, especially when I actually do my makeup.  I want the sanity back and the hell gone.  Pretty please?
Ok, internet tantrum done.