Today I mustered up the courage to bring Quinton to a new daycare for a couple hours. He didn't cry when I left him or think twice about running outside to play with the others kids as I went to leave. I was very thankful his reaction was good because lately he screams any time I leave a room. He was only there for a couple hours and right as I was leaving to go get him I got a call from his daycare lady. He got bit by her dog and I arrived a minute or two later to see my baby with a big gash on his forehead. I'm not sure how to feel about it. I can't blame her really, and I was well aware there were two dogs there that have never bitten anyone until now. The thing that is making my heart feel like it's going to explode is knowing that my 3 year old is sitting in the exact same emergency room that Boston died in exactly two weeks ago. Two weeks ago at this time I was 54 minutes away from devastation suddenly roaring into my life, and now it won't leave.
I really hate it when people say "God gives the toughest battles to his strongest soldiers." Can I just be weak then? I don't want to do this. I don't want anymore tough battles. I don't want the ones I've already been given either. God, the universe, or whoever or whatever it is causing tragedy in my life can gladly just take it back and return my children to me happy, healthy, and in one piece. If only wishful thinking was enough to bring Boston back...
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