Tuesday – 12/8/2014 (1st Shot)

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Last night we gave our innocent child a shot in the butt as he lay, passed out, dreaming of flying chocolate milk cups and winnie the pooh.

I read over the instructions 2 or 3 times, initially thinking I’d be the one to give him the shot. We needed to give it to him on a 10-15 degree angle. Easier said then done when you’re holding down a diaper, using a phone app flashlight, trying to whisper quietly 1 foot above your baby. As my nerves started to kick in it was clear my husband felt more comfortable for the first administration. I put the numbing cream on my inner thigh just after we sneaked in his room and flipped the angel on his side to rub on his bum. We waited 45 mins. I tested a needle on my leg and still felt the prick, perhaps I didn’t prime the spot enough with the┬álidocaine first? This made me even more nervous…

Just before going into the bedroom my husband and I stood face to face. He had the needle in his hand warming it a bit so the medication would be less of a shock going into our son. As we stood there, smirking and trying to hide our excitement about the great possibilities of what this night forward could mean for us, I could tell the great weight of anxiety and pain we shared together. In an instant our wedding day flashed in my mind. Standing there face to face as we did when we took our first dance, surrounded by all that we knew and loved. Looking into each others eyes with only excitement for our future together and love that we would share with our current and future sons. I was in disbelief that two years later I was looking into those very eyes knowing that we were in a dark place we never ever ever expected. I could see his eyes water up a little as he said “life is crazy”, I nodded as if those few little words could sum up all the anger, pain, and helplessness that we felt. As if “life is crazy” could some how blanket our situation and justify all that our beautiful baby was going through and may deal with for the rest of his life. As if that could justify all the heart-ships that parents in our very situation experience. But that is all I could say myself, because how can you explain the depths of this? Your children, in many ways are an extension of you, a piece of you. It’s hard to not know what parts of you they are. It’s heartbreaking to not know your own baby because he is locked up in his mind and cannot communicate to you.

We proceeded in his bedroom and did the dirty work. It was hard to tell how acute the angle was, the flesh of his buttocks seemed to nestle in around the needle making it seem deeper than we had wanted. He awoke just as we had hoped I’m not to with an abrupt but brief cry grabbing at his butt. Then in a few seconds was passed out, limp, over my husband’s shoulder. I did not like this feeling, it felt dirty, but I knew, we knew that this was the best treatment we could offer him. The best chance at the possibility of a normal life. From this point forward we are in it for 2-4 years, possibly life…

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