He gave me his cell phone number and told me to call him this afternoon, and again this evening.
He's doing everything he can to keep Emily out of the hospital.
Our Emily has been throwing up every day for the last 10 days.
It's been just once every morning but in the last few days she's decided to increase her offerings.
Jason and I walk around with a towel in our hands ... just in case.
In fact, Jason has his baby girl so pegged he can usually have her in position over the sink before she lets loose.
Emily has no other symptoms and we can't figure out what is wrong.
En route to the pediatrician today I got a call from him. "Noelle, I'm trying to decide if I should just send you to the hospital."
He doesn't know this, but I started to cry.
I am so tired...and so over throw up...and so ... so ...
Emily's doctor thinks she looks good considering and for today we've dodged the hospital bullet.
I think there is a general feeling that now that Emily's heart is 'fixed' life must be good.
Phone calls have stopped, emails have slowed down, and Jason and I are mostly left alone.
And usually that's okay with me. We've had so much love and support and I will be forever grateful.
But the reality behind our closed doors remains the same.
A cold or the flu could land Emily in the hospital that fast.
A cold or the flu could end up costing our baby girl her life.
And every time I hear her cough I send a silent prayer heavenward, asking for the strength to just make it through one more day.
Emily's pediatrician put it perfectly today. "Noelle, Emily is scary. I can treat 99% of my patients all of the time, but Emily is that 1% because of her heart."
That will never change. Emily will always be that 1% and somehow I have to figure out how to do something other than cry.
Maybe that will be my New Years Resolution.