I am....

I am just sad.

It is true that literally there is not a single moment of any day (or any night for that matter) passes by in which I am not busy with one or the other task. It is true that even as I am typing these words I can hear the squeaky sound of little boss’s bed and know at any minute his little angelic voice will say: “Momma, are you there?”. It is true that peaceful boss turned out to be anything but peaceful :)...I still think he is peaceful only a new definition of the word of course :):)
He is a little “extremely cute and utterly handful” baby; one of those that at 2:30 am wakes up just to make sure mamma remembers that sleep is not that big a deal but playing with his royal highness the prince of dimples are the priority over everything……

But none of the time consuming ordeals, none of the fatigue and exhaustion, none of anything in the daily routine of my life prevented me from visiting my blog. What prevented me was this utter sadness that is in my heart.

I am just sad. One of those sadness that makes one speechless....makes one empty inside... Don’t think that I am not talking during my days. On the contrary!

I talk so much that sometimes at the end of the day my facial muscles feel they were running a marathon. Anyone that is a mother of a toddler and a baby knows that words and conversing is endlessly delightful. Even if one is so sad. Well in all honesty that is what is the joy in this sadness, that is the sanity in this madness and the light in this darkens: My very bright and delightful, extremely curious and utterly adorable little boss as well as my extremely energetic, very demanding and attention seeking, unbelievably “cute - melting your heart” boss (well lets say that officially “peaceful” boss’s name should change to something else. The jury is still out on that one in my mind).

I still battle with PTSD…sometimes the battle is daily in my life. “Shadi”, my dear cyber friend, wrote me something in the comment section, which made me come back to my blog and write this post. She wrote: “How is the PTSD? you know, it still comes back to me but it is just normal. I am the host and it is a guest, visits me briefly and leaves”. Her poetic description made me think of the amazing possibility that human body has to heal one self….and the amazing taste of “hope”…hope that there will be a month in the future that my “peaceful” boss will become a month older and on that particular day I do not recall the memory of him in the Sick Kids hospital but instead I would remember the blissful memory of giving birth to him….

My little friendly balloon is still very much up there, or in there or is in there somewhere….and still I am possibly the only person that love it more than hate it….which is another stamp in my insanity among my close circle of loved ones…..

I still experience some excruciating painful physical symptoms that sometimes can take my breath away…literally and metaphorically!

But neither the big scary PTSD nor the little red balloon….neither the fatigue nor the lack of time… none of the above mentioned details prevented me from coming to this blog. This deep sadness prevented me from writing anything. The type of sadness that sucked away all the words in my vocabulary repertory….and believe me I am a person with many words in a few different languages!

I am sad at this world that we live in. I am sad by it, with it and from it….what ever the proper grammar combination can be. These days I even rarely visit my usual TV news programs. I mean they gave me the good dose of reality a few weeks ago:

In a world that people are dying from hunger or so many man made and non man made diseases, in a world that people are trying so hard to get back what ever left of their dignity as human beings, in a world that people are drowning and gasping for one breath of “free” air, in a world that people are being raped and tortured and killed all over the place, in a world that everyone are slaves one way or another…in this beautiful ugly world of ours…we turn on the TV and the top breaking news for days after days is no other than Michael Jackson!

Well what can I say?
Maybe sadness is not the correct word after all. Maybe what I feel is total detachment from “this” reality we call our world!

Sorry my dear blog. I know you were looking for a better update of my daily routin of life but….I am sad, I am mad and I am everything in between….

The clock is ticking….

A personal note to my dear “Fire and Nava”:

I thought long and hard before writing this post, to share what I am about to share with the cyber world. This news is something that so far I only chose to share with my better half, my parents and one very close friend. I fully trust two of you and the fact that this will stay between us. That was not the reason for my contemplation….far from it! I was not sure whether I want to bring this pain to your doorsteps, and I knew you are going to read the post sooner or later… for making you aware of all this I am very sorry my dear dear friends…my trust worthy, kind friends in cyber world and in the other one….


In “Veronica decides to die” he writes:
“An awareness of death encourages us to live more intensely”.

Well I am experiencing this sentence in last 48 hours….In last precious 48 hours that I came to “know” that in fact my clock is ticking…..like all of us!

Living with PTSD put all the other ailments in back seat for me. The fact that I was experiencing very alarming symptoms in last few months was not really important to me. But my sweet doctor really was insisting that we need to do some tests…and one test lead to another and finally I ended up with an urgent appointment with a neurologist!

A series of nerve conducting tests and elimination of some possibly scary diagnosis…

And finally of course with the urgent requisition of both my family doctor and the specialist, I landed at MRI doorsteps…“MRI of brain”.

Other than my better half and my parents; my close friend was also involved in this process. She was the one that came with me for MRI as I did not want better half disrupt the night routine of the kids – did you know the hospitals do MRI sometimes 24 hours a day??-

On the way to the hospital we were joking that they are going to finally find out the truth…that there is no brain in my skull…we were trying to ignore the scary possibilities. After all we both are homeopathic doctors and very well aware of “what if”s…

The reality is that I went through all these process from the beginning to the end, with a detached feeling. A detachment that was coming from experiencing my personal hell called: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
I could care less doing any or all of these tests. I did it mostly to put my better half’s mind at ease. For me, I already had a hellish diagnosis that was eating me alive; minute by minute, day after day, night after night….

48 hours ago my doctor “needed” to see me urgently. The result of MRI was in…My immediate thought was “Oh shit! I guess it is serious”. On the way to her office I was only praying for whatever it is, may it NOT be MS. Few years ago I had a successful experience in treating couple of MS cases. They talked about homeopathy and me in their support group and as a result of that suddenly I had lots of MS patients as well as their families. The thought of making my loved ones going through life and seeing me deteriorate like that is truly the one of the worst fears of my life…The thought of them…the thought of them…

I walked into her office and she tells me: “well the good news is that it is not MS or a tumor”….and then she pauses…“Unfortunately it is something that we did not expect. There is an aneurism in your brain. It is at the base of cerebral, toward the right lobe….as you know it is a serious diagnosis. I want to send you for a MRA to get a better information of the type of aneurism, the extend of it as well as the possibility of developing it in other location of the brain…[the general rule is that when one develops an aneurism, that indicated fragile vessels in the brain and higher possibility of developing it again]

“Why do I have to get an MRA? I mean what is more to know? A cerebral aneurism is what they call “a ticking bomb”. At any second my “ballooning vessel” can burst and I die…as simple as that. I am very well aware of how serious the issue is. I am also aware that this balloon can get bigger and bigger as we are speaking. But let’s face it. Part of the seriousness is that the ONLY treatment that you can offer is surgery and as you yourself know, the danger of brain surgery is so high that ultimately the patient has to choose between the danger of dying as a result of rupture or the danger of dying during the surgery…or the danger of becoming a vegetable after surgery…”

She agreed with me…how could she not? But after a long discussion, I agreed to go ahead with MRA…to go ahead and “monitor” the situation….after all that is what “the procedure” is for brain aneurism…

Well I am aware of this little balloon in my head for last 48 hours and “I AM LOVING IT”…This sentence alone is more scary diagnosis these days than any other MD labels, ha?

I mean in this day and age being “crazy” and have different views is a serious illness. Isn’t it?

But I will tell you why I think this balloon is a gift from divine…
Miraculously, from the moment that I found about this, a heavy load was lifted from my heart. It is as if PTSD is away on a coffee brake. I mean I do have my physical symptoms and particularly the ongoing headache is excruciatingly painful – and very alarming for my doctor. I don’t mean life is now peachy…by no means. What I mean is this: last night little boss sneezed in his sleep and my heart did not jump out of my chest, I did not run to check his temperature. This morning peaceful boss had a stuffy nose. I just simply cleaned it and did not hear the alarming sound of the hospital monitor. I drove today to bring little boss back home from school and I was looking at the trees and their beautiful green color with a new sharp view, a crispy sensation….

I admit, I am scared that the PTSD will come back at any moment…that its coffee brake will be over and I will be in that hospital room again, frozen with fear for my loved ones…but what if the scary PTSD is scared of my balloon? Do you know what I mean? What if I finally realized what we all have to realize…:
“A miracle happened: another day of life”.

I mean I might very well die from a car accident, or live to be 100 and even then not die from the bursting of my balloon…but in any case, what would I answer to this question: “did I live, or did I LIVE?”

Maybe I am in denial…Maybe all this “sort of a truce and peace” will end soon and maybe I will get into the panic of “I am dying” and “what if I die now” and “what about my kids” and “why and why and why”…or maybe, just maybe this new found wisdom stays with me until I meet the angel of death…one way or another!

Well my dear cyber world…my clock is ticking…so is yours. I just get the blessing to know about it before it is too late. After all:
“An awareness of death encourages us to live more intensely”.

You asked me how I am... (Part 1)

He asks me “where is mommy? Where is mommy?” and by now I know the rule of his game so well…there is only one acceptable answer: “I don’t know. Where is she?”…and that is when my little boss takes a deep breath, giggles loud, jump right into my arms and screams: “

“Here she is”…

I laugh with him, hold him tight and feel amazing while he makes himself comfortable in my arms with his legs resting on my hips, those adorable legs cradling me from sides, shielding me from the world around….while EVERYTIME that we play this favorite game of his (and it can be 10 times a day), I think to myself:

“Oh my baby boy, my sweet love, these days I really wonder where mommy is…”

I guess it is official….

She says:
“I am afraid you are going through PTSD….all the classic signs and I know you are very familiar with it.” I can detect the sympathy tone in her voice, a tone that doctors don’t usually have time for it….

Of course she knows I am very familiar with the condition. After all she referred few of her patients to me in past few years, in order for me to help them with the exact same diagnosis….

We joke about the desire that all MD have to label conditions and categorize them…a security blanket of some sort I guess and then we look at each other in silence, me and this sweet doctor of mine. In last 10 years we came a very long way. We both came to trust and respect each other, especially as two health care professionals that by definition believe in two opposite school of thoughts.

The first time I walked in her office, head high and proud and told her I am there because I have to have a family physician in order to live in this society…at least for some annual tests and all. She looked at my chart and said: “Oh you are a homeopathic doctor I see!”….we joked about that initial contact many times after that. She came to respect my knowledge and expertise in my field so much to refer patients to me – something that MD rarely admit even if they believe in! ….And I came to trust her open-mindedness so much to make her our family doctor in every sense of the word…She became my precious angels’ doctor!

Now we sit in the silence of her office. She specifically booked me at her lunch brake and I am uncomfortably aware that she is spending way too much of her well deserved lunch brake with me. The office is totally quiet. She talks about the options and I talk about my opinions….

I walk out the office. I can feel the fresh spring breeze on my face. I look around. It feels like everything is in slow motion in the world that I live in. That is the world that I live in for some time now. I notice the fresh green leaves on some of the bushes and I have to mentally remind myself that I like this fresh green and this time of the year….

The sound of children and their laughter come from the green field beside the parking lot. I turn and look at them and yet I can not see them….I walk toward my car and later I realized the drops of tears were running down my cheeks. I am in this world and yet I am not….I am still in that hospital room, looking at the monitor and hearing nothing but the alarming beep of low oxygen level and the labored breath of my angel…..

It sounds like a broken record to everyone that does not FEEL what I am talking about. It is after all my broken record. Well I actually NEVER talk about what I am going through. Almost no one knows. I look the same to everyone except to my better half. He knows. He does not need words to know the deep hell that his love of life goes through….he knows….

Life goes on…does it? I wonder sometimes…..

Until....

A Note: Words run away from me every time that I want to express myself. Words are no longer my friends in any languages that I know. I am still very much drowned in my memories and feelings. Sometimes very afraid to open any window to the daily routine of life....and yet daily routine of life continues and I go through the acts and carry the fear, panic and anxieties...carry the exhaustion and fatigue…carry the hidden tears and silenced screams...But I ALSO CARRY THE LOVE, THE NEVER ENDING LOVE...and that will bring me out of this cave...one day...one day....

Until that day (may it be in very near future or in very distant one), this is for you my peaceful boss...You also like me are in search of your peacefulness after those traumatic weeks...

You have no idea how much mamma loves you

Somewhere i have never travelled

By E. E. Cummings

Somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond

any experience, your eyes have their silence:

in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,

or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me

though i have closed myself as fingers,

you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and

my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,

as when the heart of this flower imagines

the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals

the power of your intense fragility: whose texture

compels me with the color of its countries,

rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes

and opens; only something in me understands

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)

nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Wake me up…

Less than 24 hours before all these events, I wrote a reply for Parinaz in my comment box.

I did not know how soon I will be tested in my belief in those words…

“Pleasure is a gift of destiny

That reveals its value in the present,

While suffering is a source of insight

Whose significance will become evident in the future.”

What a curse it is to know…what a curse it is….
…
…

He was refusing to be fed, the better half was blaming it on his stuffy nose that he had in last 12 hours and was trying to wipe off the anxious look from my face… my mother was trying to calm me down by telling me that “kids catch cold…as a mother you have to get used to it”…and I was like a bird in a cage hitting myself to the walls, trying anything and everything…in all honesty the mother intuition is something else. I knew something was not right. Don’t ask me why because at that point of time, he did not have ANY other symptom other than stuffy nose and bad eating….I on the other hand was checking his fontanels, counting the number of hours since his last wet diaper, checking to see any sign of blueness around his mouth and nose…

Then suddenly I could not breathe anymore. I was gasping for air… and that is when I stood up, put him in his cradle and started packing his diaper bag and told my better half with a factual tone: “We are going to the…hospital right now” (a very well known and reputable children hospital)…I ignored the look of shock on everyone’s face. My mother tried to protest: “but he is just having a cold” and my better half tried to calm me down: “That hospital is for serious cases and is in downtown, very far away. Do you want us to go to a walk in clinic considering that it is weekend and his doctor is not in the office? That will be quicker you know”…and I did not hear anything. I was not hearing anything other than his breath….. “I am ready. We go to that hospital. TRUST ME ON THIS”. My better half looked at me and right then and there I knew he got my anxiety. Anxiety is indeed contagious. He did not say a word after that. But he knew that I KNOW….
….
….

The drive to the hospital was LONG and peaceful boss was indeed peaceful. Just before turning into the emergency entrance, he opened his eyes and started crying, it was a weak and heart braking cry. I think he sensed the hell that was waiting for him.

Better half dropped us in front of the ER entrance: “You go in and I will park and come”…and I picked up the car seat and the diaper bag and looked at him through the mirror: “please hurry up”….
…
…
The triage nurse asked me his symptoms and I described them for her. Her first question: “Are you in medical field?” and my blank look….then she said: “It is probably just a cold” and I cut her right there: “It is not JUST a cold. You need to check him up immediately. In last 10 minutes waiting here, his pattern of breathing is changed. I need you to check him up IMMEDIATELY”. From the corner of my eyes I could see the shock on my better half’s face. I think my raised voice made both of them jump. She took my poor tiny baby and made him naked. Temp: 37.7 (the nurse said “it is not a fever” and I am thinking but he did not have this temp at home. Things were progressing quickly and that is not a good sign)…and then she hooked him to the monitor to check the vitals and the horrible alarm went off, the alarm that I heard its noise million times over and over in the next two weeks that followed and yet every time it induced the same initial shocking effect on my heart and soul…my better half asked me with a shaky voice: “what is happening?” and I with a face like a statue replied “His oxygen level is low”. And the nurse tried to sound reassuring “It can be because of the stuffy nose” and I replied “not when it is this low”…..

It is a curse to know…it is a curse to know….

…..
…..

They gave us a room in the ER, not a bed or a cubical but a room. The doctor walked in and I read her tag and said to myself: “not a resident or a fellow but the chief doctor in ER”….She started reviewing the case as the triage nurse had it half an hour ago. I stopped her and corrected few things as the symptoms changed dramatically in last half an hour. “I think you should check his Temp again. He is burning to my lips. Also his breathing is very irregular, he developed indrawing of the chest and head bobbing while we were waiting and he started coughing in last half an hour”….He indeed had a fever this time, a high fever. His Oxygen level was lower than before and his breathing and heart rate was extremely fast.

What came after was a series of nightmares one after anther. They took blood culture from his tiny hands and feet, nose swap for viruses, Catheter for urinary track infection, Chest X-ray three different times and LP test (spinal tap) to rule out meningitis. They put an iv on his left hand and in the process of next two weeks his right hand and his two feet went through similar fate.

I refused to leave the room for any of the tests. They told me it is difficult for the parents to watch and I stood there, kneeled beside his bed, touching the spot on his forehead that I knew calms him down, whispering to his ears and watched. Better half also did not leave the room but most of the time he had to turn his back and face the wall; he had tears in his eyes and clenching his fists. I on the other hand could not allow myself to cry. I needed for peaceful boss to look in his mommy’s eyes and see the strength and yet million times in the days and nights that followed I wondered “where is my River Piedra so that I sit by it and weep?”

….
….
….

It turned out that the peaceful boss got the respiratory track viral infection called RSV. He was admitted to the same well known hospital and that alone made better half and everyone else in our circle of friends and family realize what a serious condition we are dealing with, mostly because this hospital admits serious conditions and transfers the rest to other pediatrician wards.

I came to learn that apparently this is the nasty virus that is lingering around since November and caused the major prolonged cold/flu in community since then. The doctors told me that it causes a tough cold in adult, a nasty one in kids with prolonged cough for 2-3 weeks recovery and a deadly one in babies younger than 6 months old….peaceful boss was only 3 weeks old!

They told us that the chances are that we know 3 out of 5 people around us that had this nasty cold in past few months…and we did know. We were part of that statistic ourselves!

But my baby was only 3 weeks old….that was what I was repeating to myself…..

They told me he will get worse before he gets better (that is the course of the virus itself) and every time that a nurse or a doctor walked in our room and told me this, I shook my head and said “Worse than this?” and they looked sympathetic and said “unfortunately yes!”

They put us in the level 2 isolation. There was a procedure of walking in our room involving mask and gown and gloves….they gave me the option of having the mask inside or else, anytime that I walk out I have to have the wired looking mask on my face and mouth. I refused to have the mask inside the room. I needed for my baby to see my face in the middle of all this madness….and the reality was that the room had the washroom and shower so there was absolutely no need for me to leave the room. I was not planning to leave him alone even for one minute. I had the intense fear that if I do not watch him even for one second, he will go away and I will loose him….

So my very long days and nights began. I lost track of what time or date it is and the only connection to outside world was 5-6 times phone calls to little boss. In order to talk to him, I would go toward the window and look at the busy street of down town with my back to peaceful boss and I would talk to little boss, sing for him, laugh with him, make him laugh and listen to him repeating at the end of each phone call “Where are you mommy? Come mommy…I want mommy” and I would try to explain to him about his brother have a boo boo and we will come home soon…..and then hold my tears as I would listen to my little boss’s angelic voice or to my peaceful boss’s broken breath….

….
….

And then it was that dreadful night, less than 48 hours after the ER scene…when better half walked out our room to get some ice for us. I was trying to breath for my son. The doctor looked at me and said “I know you are in medical field so as one professional to the other I have to tell you tonight will be the worst probably….and if we have to put a tube for him to breath, I am not sure what will be his chances of survival”…I did not cry, I did not blink, I just looked at my baby. I gave birth to him only three weeks ago across the same street in another well known hospital. What would I have done differently then if I knew that three weeks from that blissful moment I will hear these words?

I replied “I will hold him. I will not move at all so this way no disturbance for your tubes and oxygen mask, but he will stay in my arms from now on”….I did not ask, I did not ask for permission, I said it in a matter of fact and she agreed with me in a matter of fact…..

That night was the worst night of my life….a worst hell in a middle of hellish days and nights that followed. I was so happy that better half was not in the room when she told me this. I talked about those words with him, only when we came back home…while we were bending over our son’s cradle and watching his peaceful face.
….
…
What followed after was one nightmare after another….I wondered million times that whether I was really awake or I was in the middle of a nightmare…I begged all the Gods in the universe that please wake me up, pleases wake me up…no answer. Indeed that nightmare was the reality of my days and nights.

Little by little he started to breath without oxygen mask. As a result of all the oxygen tubes and the tapes that kept them on its place, his amazing smooth skin developed rash on his cheeks. As a result of Epinephrine and Ventalin masks his face became puffy and his eye lids were swollen and red….and yet none of them matched his weak cry. He was tired. His cry was no longer loud or angry because of all the poking and pain…and that brought the fear of lifetime to my heart. I used to whisper in his ears over and over “I do not allow you to leave me. I need you to fight and hang in there. This will pass my angel”.
…
….
And it did pass. It is now little more than 48 hours that we are home. He is weak and lost a LOT of weight. But he is breathing and drinking….

I on the other hand….well still with every blink of an eye I have the play back of one of the many hellish scenes. Before these two weeks I always thought I had episodes of being in hell in my life. Needless to say that I did not know hell has many many levels and one of the lowest one is the fear of a mother fighting for her child’s life. In one of the last days of our stay in the hospital, the better half tried to make me leave the room I guess for my sanity. So he told me about the toy stores that are in the atrium of the hospital. He was explaining it to me that what a beautiful Shopping mall for the kids and their parents it is….my thought went to little boss and I thought it is better for us to get him something as a gift from his brother since mommy and peaceful boss was away constantly for two weeks. So I left the room for a total of 30 minutes. I think that 30 minutes gave me the lesson of life times. In the atrium they were kids with iv attached to them, lost hair and very weak with bright eyes; cancer patients, transplant paints…and I was thinking why I forgot about the pain of all the mothers? When did I move to la la land?...and then I noticed the face of their parents, being exhausted and yet so passionately looking at their children…and in all their eyes the terror and shock was obvious…and the face of the children believe it or not was happy. Indeed children are resilient.
…
…
We are home but I am still in that room. I wonder when will be the time that every cough or sneeze or loud breathe doesn’t make my heart go faster? I wonder when will I be free from those images or the sound of monitor alarming a low oxygen level, rapid heart rate or irregular breathing? I wonder when will I loose the numb look in my eyes? I wonder when will I smile and fear won’t be part of that smile? I wonder…..

I am scared, I am tired…there is only one tiny line between having someone and loosing them. There is only one second between peace and chaos. There is only one blink of an eye between hope and despair….

I wonder can writing this experience take some of my burdens away? Can I use this post as a therapy?

I think of the lesson in all that maddness....
I wonder what ever the lesson was, did I learn it?
I wonder….

I wonder….

The SHOCK....

He was sleeping in his crib when we arrived from the hospital. They discharged us in the evening and the drive home was long and slippery!

We came in, bringing our little baby boy home for the first time....

I asked Oma “Is he sleeping?” and my mom replied “Yes, he is.” and I felt an ache in my heart. I wanted to fly to his room and touch him but little peaceful boss really was hungry and TRULY was patient during the LONG drive home. So I had to tend to his need first.

After that I still did not want to go to little boss’s room. I needed to take a shower and clean myself. That was possibly one of the quickest showers in the history – and trust me when I tell you that I learned to take very quick showers since I became a mother, something that was very difficult for me to give up as I LOVE water and its sensation on my body.

So with my bath robe on and water dripping from my body I walked into his room. The familiar aroma welcomed me immediately. I took it all in. It was the smell of my little boss. From the corner of my eyes I could see one of his favorite books on the floor and I could hear his delicate voice imitating the poem for me: “Mommy sing it again: Wynken, Blynken and Nod…”

I hold my breath in and bent down and looked into his crib. There, in the dark, was he, my first born. Tangled in his blankets, head on his favorite teddy bear and feet out…sweaty and all.

And there it was...the deep shock: “Where did my baby go? I was away for only couple of days and he is grown up so much?”

I had tears in my eyes. He was grown up. Was it possible that he was so changed in couple of days or the fact that I had a newborn baby in my arms for last 48 hours made everything looked bigger?!

A friend of mine wrote an email to me a week prior to this: “when you change your first newborn diaper you will realize for the first time that your toddler is no longer a baby and is grown up so much.” I read it and did not think of it that much. Now I had tears in my eyes.

Where did my baby go? I was not looking at him ONLY for two days of his life and look how much I missed!

I bent over the rail and touched his curly hairs, use all my self control not to wake him up with the tsunami of the kisses that was in my heart. Every muscle of my body was aching for a hug and cuddle.

I only looked at him and whispered to him in my heart.

I told him about the big surprise that he will have when he wakes up tomorrow morning, that his brother also brought him a present that I am really sure he will love, that mommy is so worried about the changes that he has to go through, that sometimes mommy asks herself that was this the right timing and is there any right timing for this type of lessons in life?

I told him that although he has a turbulent time ahead of him, giving him a sibling was the best thing that mommy and daddy could do for him...and he better trust me on that because I know what does it mean to be the only child....

...
...

And then the tears ran down my face. I was crying so intensely....I whispered to him that how I love him and adore him and how much I miss him. That how every touch of his brother cheek against my breasts brings a memory of him to me. That how every suck and newborn skin against my skin makes my heart burst with love for the peaceful boss and yearn deeply for the little boss.

I told him the story of the last 48 hours, things that I might never actually tell him…I told him about how he gave his little brother the best gift of all: a better version of his mother…and I told him that how much my love for the peaceful boss made my love for little boss grows and grows and grows….

…
…

And my heart ached for my baby, my little boss…..

...
...

I came out of his room and my red nose and watery eyes made my mother worried. I told her: “He grew up so much. Even his feet are bigger”…and Oma looked at me as if she is looking at a mad woman – although in all honesty she is really used to my madness by now – and replied: “He is exactly the same. Nothing is changed in last 48 hours”….and I replied: “Oh mom, everything is changed!”

…
…

He is still every inch my baby, a big baby but still my baby. In the quiet and dark of the night, he is no longer a toddler seeking for his independency, no longer a little boy aching to be a big boy, no longer a big brother struggling to share his mamma, he is only my baby….soft and vulnerable and in need of me…always in need of me.

Oh how I am thankful for him and his little brother….