These words, these nightmare words, these furied, banshee shoutings, these harbingers of all things unimaginable and catastrophic. These words no parent dare think about.
Bridger has a heart condition.
Bridger, my little man with the big heart.
His heart, his HEART is sick.
I watched that tiny heart beat on an ultrasound and there was my proof, my proof that I was growing a life.
I trusted that heart to beat beat beat beat beat beat beat. Rythmically, not sporadically, not spastically. Bridger is my calm child, my even keel, my smooth sailing. I expect no less of his synaptic firings and the pitch of his heartrate. At times he's been my pacemaker.
How many times have I blessed his heart? (I'm in love with you, honey / Say you love me too, honey...Loved you from the start, honey / Bless your little heart, honey....)
One of my favorite movies ever is E.T. Bridger too. Bridger, especially, loves the scenes where E.T.'s heart lights up. (I'll be right...HERE.)
Oh honey, my golden sunshine boy, be well.
Update 11/25/09: Bridger's chest x-ray came back and his heart appears to be the right size. (I always thought he had a really big heart but I'm glad to know it's actually normal. We're still waiting to hear back from the cardiology about his EKG.)