starts with a single step. So tomorrow we start the first step in the next part of our journey. After an emergency clinic visit today and some back and forthing with Seb's developmental specialist, we will be starting him on medication tomorrow. Which I was kind of expecting as he is just about the same age Kit was when he started his meds. What I wasn't expecting was all the emotional stuff that's been swamping me all afternoon. Part of it is thinking back to Kit at that age, and how hard it all seemed. How just getting up each day and putting one foot in front of the other seemed like a massive, unobtainable goal. How everything seemed to be at the top of this massive hill, and any kind of milestone seemed a million miles out of reach. And still we did it. We got over the biggest hurdles since he was diagnosed at 2 and lived to see the view from the top of the mountain. Now we have another mountain to climb, and I'm five years older, and fifty years more tired. The whole one foot in front of the other deal looks just as hard as it did then. And I'm worried. Make that "packing death big time"....I owe second son everything I can possibly give him, and even then I don't know if it's going to be enough. I would give fifty years of my life, my right arm and a kidney to be able to fix things for him. Spectating while someone you love is struggling is a killer. It sucks the life right out of you and leaves you feeling invisible and useless. And angry. Really angry. Shouting, screaming, throwing things angry. So that's what I'm doing. Inside. On the outside I'm dealing, parenting, coping, moving forward one step at a time. Inside, I'm fractured. I hurt. But he won't see it. Ever. I'm strong enough to keep it from showing. That much I can guarantee.