So Rojo went to school Tuesday morning, and I decided to use that time to dig in the basement for old photos of him for a school project. Found the towering stack of photo albums, but nine out of ten of them were of Woohoo. Simply cannot find any photo albums of Rojo from grades 1-5. Missing.
Looked through the baby and toddler albums of him just briefly, randomly turning to pages and giving them a cursory glance. That's was all I could do. To really go back and really look and really be back in those years is simply not something I'm up for.
Hard to believe that looking at that darling boy in the picture above, doesn't fill me with joy, right? I know. Just look at him. Could he be any cuter? And any healthier looking? And look at him eating a variety of food and textures. But pictures can lie. That same darling, healthy, happy boy I just happened to get a photo of, that boy didn't live at our house very much. The boy that lived with us then was always in my arms, on my hip, being jiggled, being stuck with a pacifier, and eventually being brushed with surgical sponges and having his joints compressed every two hours to turn on his sensory system and help him to regulate.
I don't have a lot of those pictures. Too busy to go get a camera and take a shot of any of that.
Thought I'd done okay with finding enough pictures for what I needed, thought I'd done okay skimming the surface of the pain without diving into the deep end, thought I'd done okay reflecting on those years and realizing that we are not there anymore, that we have a very happy, joyful, delightful, what-he-is boy living with us right now.
But apparently my body had another idea. As the day wore on I got sicker and sicker. Stomach cramps that felt like labor and hit with a force every 15 minutes for 24 hours. Ended up going into the doctor afraid of what she might find. She didn't have a firm answer, ran some tests and we will await the results. Feeling better now, but there is a lingering sense of non-wellness.
I still don't know what happened to the missing photo albums, and part of me mourns their loss, if they're truly gone, and part of me is relieved never to have to look at them again.