We are twenty-one months out from the very first time I saw my son, and also the very first time somebody told me he was severely ill - hypoplastic left heart syndrome - the phrase still echos in my mind, and as it rattles around it still manages to shake a few tears out of my eyes, because even nine months out, that memory is so fresh and I can feel that uncertainty and fear in my bones like it was only yesterday.
I have to tell you though, from one parent living in a medically dramatic world to another, normal does infact come.
It doesn't come wrapped in a big beautiful ribbon. It doesn't come in a form that you could ever possibly remember from life before, and it doesn't come as a signal ending this new world we are in, no. It comes in the form of giving medicine second nature. It comes in the form of becoming good friends with parents just like you. It comes with building your normal life, around your crazy medical portion, and it all working like a big, synchronized, beautiful mess.
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