I slept well last night. I had a feeling I needed to get some quiet moments this morning to pray and read - and it's a good thing I did. When I got to the hospital, Trent was looking pretty ragged. The neurosurgeon had just been in and indicated it would be six to eight weeks before Angelee's bone flap is put back in. This trauma is getting longer. Smiling is difficult. Possible, yes, but often the smiles are forced through tears.
I had a monster under my bed last night. He always lives there, but doesn't come out very often. His name is "What If." What if I had... What if Trent had... What if she didn't... And then I can either fall apart or beat him back under the bed. He always lives there, though, and he's bigger than he used to be. I can't write any more because it's too painful.