As always, Angel woke me up rather early today. His face isn’t swollen at all. I kept his head elevated with a pillow and my arm throughout the night, and I tried to put a cold compress (some ice in a small ziploc bag wrapped by a thin face towel) for a few minutes before I drifted off to sleep. He looks as normal as can be except for the patch on his forehead.
So we’re going after all. I see now why the plastic surgeon was wary of telling us to postpone our trip. He did say that the reaction to the stitches to the injury varies from person to person, so he told me to play it by ear. No prescriptions, too, except for the pain reliever which I already had at home.
I fed him breakfast and lunch and held him as he put the food in his mouth. I held him close and told him I never thought I would have a son like him. I guess we never really know the wonder of having children until we hold them in our arms. He’s busy packing his favorite cars in a supermarket plastic bag. I ask him where he’s going and he tells me “Car..” . Alan went to the gym but we’re going to do our errands shortly.
I see his personality emerging and sometimes he gets to be quite a handful. But I’m grateful that he’s very affectionate and helpful, and that he is very demonstrative towards his two grandmothers. He lights up when he see his half brother who is hardly around. And when he knows he has upset his Dad or me, he looks genuinely remorseful for the trouble he had caused.
It’s a long journey ahead, I know. I have been teasing him I don’t want to make friends of the people in the ER which elicited a laugh from my Mom. I’ll take the cuts and bruises — I always pray he be healthy always. We’re trying.. we’re praying.