I suspect one who blogs is rather obligated to write a "Thankful" post on Thanksgiving. And this year, I want to so the obligation fits with desire. How OFTEN does that happen? Seriously?
Last year, I was writing about Umberto's first seizure. We knew he was safe for the moment but we were so scared that the seizures signaled something dire. As this time approached last year, we were terrified that we would once again being running to find our son on the floor. Last night, I found that I slept rather fretfully, every noise from the kids' room waking me up. H admitted that he slept poorly as well. But there was no seizure. U's been seizure free since January. I am thankful for this simple fact.
Since that last post, I held my son's frail body as he seized (last Grand Mal in January), and even though I remained calm, there was no doubt that the moment emphasized the fragility of our bodies. And it was my son's body. My beautiful son whom I adore, and whose body is not mine but was once carried inside my womb. I made myself hold him even as I wanted so much to run away. I needed to do this as I had hid the first time, allowing H to face that darkness of imaginary loss.
This year I am thankful that my son's body is still here. I am thankful that my children are alive and well.