We are still at the hospital.
Waiting and waiting and waiting for a seizure.
It’s like watching paint dry.
Except this paint is whiny and irritable and purposely sleep deprived and sick of having a 10 square foot area it can be in.
Owen is officially out of sorts today, over tired, over stimulated, and just fussy and angry. He cried for two hours straight last night at the hotel until my poor mother in law called me crying herself. I ended up staying at the hotel with him, while she stayed at the hospital with Jill.
Everyone is getting antsy and feeling a little loony.
I realized that the photo above was the first time I had stepped outside of the hospital in three days.
I can’t imagine the poor people who live this life for months (or even years!) on end.
I’m praying hard for a seizure soon.
We need to get home.
Tell me you’re having a better week than we are.
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