I refused to get up this morning as I stayed up a little too late, after starting and finishing the Hunger Games in one evening. Refusing to get up is not something one should do when you have small children, but thankfully I have a husband who indulges my pathetic behavior so long as I don’t try to get away with it too often. So as I groggily laid in bed, I overheard Devan happily tell Craig that he had made himself some cinnamon toast. He then said he was going to make one for Craig, but he has used up the last piece of bread, so he went ahead and made him one with a hotdog bun. My heart melted, and I thought about what a sweet boy we have. I heard Craig thank him profusely and after a few more fruitless tries to get my lazy bum out of bed, he gave up and they all left. I finally decided Craig was probably right that it was way past time to start the day, and I went down to the kitchen and discovered this:
Oh, it makes my heart melt. I don’t think it is what either Craig or I pictured when he was describing the cinnamon toast, but it is so perfectly Devan. I love him so much it is hard to describe. It’s true that at this age, the kids require a huge commitment to their physical and emotional needs, at times seemingly sucking my life-force right out of me. But then they fill me right back up again with a sweet gesture, a hug or kiss, or a funny story. Or cinnamon and globs of butter on a hotdog bun.
You may notice that in my post categories, I have more ‘insanity’ posts than ones tagged ‘sanity’. I guess to make sure my blog title is still apt, but honestly it’s just how we roll around here. After we returned from Branson we were all (minus Craig of course) plagued with nasty colds, and breathing problems, and bloody noses, and etc. And I ended up taking Devan to the pediatrician Tuesday afternoon and while we were there they requested a urine sample. And in his sample happened to be a very high amount of glucose. Those of you who are medically-savvy may know that this happens when you have diabetes. But Devan’s blood sugar levels were normal. The doctor was clearly puzzled, and we were there for nearly 3 hours, finally sent home with the promise of more answers soon.
It’s Friday afternoon now, and I don’t know much more know than we did then. We’ve done some google searching but haven’t come up with much. We are returning tomorrow morning for Devan to give a fasting sample. Maybe we’ll get some clues or answers, and maybe we will continue to wait.
If you’ve known me any time at all, you know we are no strangers to this dance. The wall that keeps the information from flowing from doctor to patient. The nerves that build at 5:15 as you wait for a ‘results’ phone call. The futility of worry, but the impossibility to do anything but. We’ve been here before. Except for, there’s one small difference that makes this horrible in a way I wouldn’t have expected- it’s not about myself this time, it’s my son. My Devan.
So, this is where we stand. Waiting and not knowing. It could be nothing, or it could be something that changes everything. Not knowing is always the hardest part. So we go about our business, but we worry. And now I suppose I’m having all of you worry with me. But oftentimes, that is what makes me feel just a little bit better. So please, join me in my worry. Devan is a special little guy, and I am ready to know that he is going to be okay.