It’s late.

It’s late.

 

I don’t usually post anything at this hour. Any of you who read here regularly probably know that about me…

 

But I fret.

 

Tomorrow (barely… by the time I hit publish, it will likely be “later today”), we take our firstborn to the hospital. I told you all he had Lyme Disease. I told you he took weeks and weeks of antibiotics. And, still, we’re not out of the woods.

 

Eight-thirty in the morning will find us watching our oldest, still very much a little boy, run on a treadmill for a stress test. (Oh my heart.) I’ve only ever heard of older people having that test. The idea that they need to evaluate the strength and performance of my boy’s heart at the tender age of seven makes me weep.

 

He’s actually pretty excited about it. He thinks it’ll be cool. He’s such an awesome kid.

 

As for me, I’ve done everything I can to prepare. I planned a date night with my husband, sipped a glass of wine, and watched The Wedding Singer. I drove my son to karate (before the wine– never fear) and then tucked him with prayers and kisses.

 

Still, I fret.

 

I ask for your prayers, my friends. Or, if praying isn’t your style, your positive thoughts and energy.

I adore this boy. He has my heart. God help me if we find out there’s something wrong with his…

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