starting again, again

Daniel's going well. He doesn't seem muay better than when we came home, but we ARE spacing out his medication and he's not on prednisilone any more, so I guess that means he IS doing better. Dude is still coughing like an emphasymic old man, and has needed extra ventolin (slash albuterol slash Sambuterol oh my god people can we stick with ONE name??) on two occasions, which kind of sucked because he isn't SUPPOSED to be asthmatic, not according to MY plan, so suckysuckSUCK that, for now at least, he kind of is.

(note to self: BREATHE. Also, focus on the good, you idiot. The GOOD. Fucksake)

Still and obviously, he's still recovering from the acute attack which was only a few days ago so it's probably to be expected that, while in this phase and while his airways are still all precious and flouncy and are still full of crap, any extra exertion could increase his symptoms.

And this is how my brain spends its time.

I keep reminding myself of the inconvenience of all this asthma crap. For him, not me. I mean, it's not me who potentially has to stop whatever he's doing to whip out his inhaler when what he really wants to do is keep playing (been there already) , or jumping on the bed (and there) , or riding around the block on his bike (and there too) , or whatever (AND THERE TOO). I feel sad that this might be a consideration for him for a good chunk of his childhood. Even if this wasn't a one-off event, he probably WILL grow out of it anyway (bright side!), but just because 1 in 5 kids have asthma too, doesn't mean I'm okay with him being one of them, you know? I don't feel pissed or impatient or anything. I just feel sad. And scared.

Remember how, when you first bring your baby home, you listen to them breathing, keep checking that they're still breathing, canNOT believe they keep on breathing because, so little! So vulnerable! No longer in your tummy! (um, only me?) Then they keep on living and you kind of ease off on the checking.

Yeah, well. I'm kind of back at point A. I stand in the doorway at night after he's in bed and listen. He sleeps with me so I wake up DURING the night and place my hand on his chest while I listen.

I know I'll get back to assuming he's got the whole Breathing thing down and doesn't need my worry to keep it up, but right now it's tiring. I'm tired. But I can't not worry, which is such a self defeating statement so let's just say I WON'T stop worrying. Not just yet.

He went to school on Wednesday. I wanted to keep him with me but really, school is more experienced with asthmatic kids than I am because of that 1 in 5 statistic. They have a copy of his action play, will have an extra spacer and ventolin to keep there at all times, and one of the directors is asthmatic herself so kind of knows a whole shitload more about asthma management than I ever will. So I handed him over, not just because I trusted them, but because I don't trust myself yet. This is all too new and I think and rethink and wonder if I'm medicating exertion, and then the medication improves his breathing and I have no idea where I'm going with this.

School. He went to school.

I understand too, that this isn't only about managing Daniel's asthma, it's about managing ME. I can't allow my fears impact upon his life, which is ANOTHER reason why I packed him off and waved him goodbye the other day.

I think parenting is a LIFETIME of doing that, of trusting your child is going to be okay, and of never allowing your fears for their success or failure stand in the way of them grabbing life and relishing every moment.