Waiting...

There is nothing worse than waiting. I always lie awake at night wondering if I'm going to get a call that D's been injured at work, or worse. It's a major anxiety thing I have. And often, when G is at her mother's house, I worry about the same things. Don't ask me why, but it's one of those things... if I can't see you in my house and you aren't safely asleep, I worry.

So when D's cell phone rang at 11:30ish I was half asleep and so was he. Then the message alarm went off and woke us both up. We must have known something was wrong. It was G's mom calling leaving a cryptic vague message and of course I'm listening on the other side of his head so I hear "Head," "Emergency Room." EARS PERKING UP! Naturally D calls back and one of the nurses (who we happen to know) picks up G's mom's cell and I can hear more words like "disoriented," "jumped out of a car going maybe 15 mph," "CT scan."

I've never seen my husband move so quickly in his life.

And now I'm waiting. It's nearly an hour later and I'm waiting. Waiting to hear what is happening, more importantly what HAPPENED, and MOST importantly, IS MY KID OK?????

My first instinct was to run out the door with him, but the babies are asleep and I don't want to wake up my mom or get my sister riled up if I don't have to. So I'm wide awake. Shaking. A little. Freaking out, a lot. Praying. I absolutely hate this.