November 14

So yeah: this is the text message I sent Adam this morning from Isaac's baseball game.

It pretty much sums up what happened, but before I go any further, I'll say that he's okay. Sore, but okay. So that's a blessing.

Also a blessing? Today's game was the last of the season, so he has lots of time to see a doctor and find out what he should and shouldn't do in terms of rehab.

And another blessing? Everyone who tended to me when I had a panic attack after going over to the dugout to check on him. I felt it coming on as I stood there peering through the slats of wood that separated me from my injured boy; from that kid of mine who'd just silently, inexplicably fallen to the ground, his face contorted in pain. I felt the wave of nausea and saw the stars before I decided that lying down on that cold concrete was my only course of action. Embarrassing without doubt, but I'm thankful for the ways that others were Jesus to me in that moment of vulnerability: from the stranger from another team who gave me a bottle of water, to Gina who offered a granola bar, to Heather who went off to buy me a sandwich, to Jennifer, who plunked down on that cold, hard ground next to me until I felt like I could get up again. They were all so wonderful.

Don't misunderstand: I don't enjoy panic attacks at all. I don't like that I have some sort of underlying unprocessed trauma --probably from all of the too-hard-to-deal-with emotion that I stuffed into boxes when Logan was sick and after he died-- that causes my body to respond to fear and worry in such an uncontrollable way. But I am grateful for everyone who cared for me in that moment, and I am grateful that Isaac is sore, but okay.