Zoe went to the doctor yesterday because of what looks like bruising on the bottoms of her feet. It might be related to the aspirin she's taking, but the doctor wanted to be sure and had us take her into Children's Hospital Wisconsin for labs.
As much as I wanted to be here at the crack of 8 when they opened, last night was the second of long long nights in a row, and I didn't get out when I wanted. So it's me and what looks like six other families here.
The boy across from me is lying in his mother or caregiver's arms. He's bigger - maybe 6 or 7 - and it looks like he has a what looks like a big carseat in a wheelchair. Is that our life to come?
I wrestle with all of the realities because none are real, yet. Zoe being called home seemed so distant, but I don't know if it's coming closer to her first year that I sense her fragility. Last night I just put her up to my ear so I could hear her breathe.
Wheelchair? Big carseat? Weekly or bi-weekly visits to make sure she's still ok? All 3? None? The no sleeping compounds after a while. Everything seems unmanageable.
The little boy next to me is telling his mom that he is "Very Brave." Maybe I just need a little of his boldness and confidence.