Mental health and seizures can sneak up at any moment. I know this. I live with this. I live with my own precarious mental health that can slink up behind me and rob me of a day or more. Those bouts have become fewer and farther between, but they are there, and they are very real.

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A night ago Gav had a seizure. I didn’t experience the event with him, I found him in a postictal state. Terrifying. I don’t think I’m even ready to say out loud the thoughts and fears I had when I found him. Shook. Absolutely shook to my core.

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The night before his brother had a bad break with his mental health. An almost escalating, but not quite, moment of emergency. Shook. Scared. Questioning the changes I had made with his doctor earlier in the month.

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I had taken the day off work before I knew what would happen with Gavyn. I could have never functioned after finding Gavyn. You took the day, too. You told me and I couldn’t comprehend. We stood in the kitchen, and you told me that I was more important than work, the boys were more important than work, we would do the day together.

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We took turns, you, me, Dad, teaching the boys, sitting with them, being present for everyone. You gave me space to make the phone calls and send the emails and do the med-mom things that needed doing. The day didn’t feel impossible.

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Numb.

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I’ve numbed out those 12 hours of our life.

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I know I’ll need more space to be able to process what I saw, what I heard, what I felt. Space I don’t have right now. I will though. You will make the space for it.

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“All I wanted to do was hold you so you could keep holding him.”

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You’ve been let in to hold me this year. You’ve held me well during these moments. Giving me the strength to keep going. Helping me to not spiral and lose my way. No more hiding in the van crying. No more alone.

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I felt it. The difference. It felt profound. Long needed. The moments were still scary. The aftermath was still unsure. My heart is still filled with questions and concerns. But I knew you would hold me up, help me make the choices, help me do what needed doing. Laundry, food, school, loving each child. You’d listen after each email or phone call with a nurse or doctor. You’d ask questions or offer advice. You didn’t sit by, idle, wringing hands, waiting for me to do the next right thing, we did them together. You’d go a little ahead and make the way smoother. You’d go behind and make sure I didn’t stumble. A team.

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It still feels unsure. I still worried he’d have an episode last night. Or today. Or tomorrow. Or God forbid, this weekend when he is away from me. But we will pray over him. We will face it together.

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Together or not at all.