That moment when...

Nine, very close to ten... the number of years since my eldest made me a mommy.

Sometimes, I think he feels lost in the shuffle. He lives between one dead brother and one brother who is constantly the center of tests, and fear, and caution.

"You made me a mother" I told him a few months back. "Before you I had no idea what love was. You showed me love."

It's true. My eldest taught me love.

Tonight, after bed-time snacks, and baths, and tucking into bed he called me into his room. Another thing this sensitive child has taught me is to read between the lines. Expressing the fear and pain that lives inside him is difficult. This kind of thing is difficult for adults. Tonight, he was worried about his little brother. He was worried he would die. He was worried he would be the one to get him sick...

We all are.

It may be a mistake. I know we all need security. We need our false sense of safety and control just to function. My tattoos make me feel like I have a choice in something. Organizing my house makes me feel like I have some semblance of control over something. I don't but I need those moments. Still, I refuse to tell my eldest that everything will be ok. I refuse to tell him that Rainbow will stay healthy, that he will live because I don't know that.

I feel like I was lied to my whole life. I was coddled with the false security of a protective deity. The failure of the illusion, second only to the actual death of my child, has ripped my world apart.

I wont do it to my son.

The best I could give him was "me too" and "I love you so much" and "We will all be so careful."

That moment when your nine year old is afraid he will accidentally kill his little brother... just another day in my life.

Until next time...