Why I Am Not Really Worried About Tomorrow

So tomorrow is MRI day.  Finally.

And I’m not really worried.  I mean, I’m not completely calm, they are going to be sticking a needle into my son’s vein and pumping a drug into it to make him sleep, with all the dangers that that brings.  But that’s more because I hate to see him cry and he will cry when the put the cannula in.

No, I’m not worried.

Why?

I was worried.  When they first said MRI and General Anaesthetic I was very worried.  Here was my 3 month old son being put under at some point.

And then I saw the palm of his hand for, really, the first time.

In case you didn’t know, babies keep their hands in fists for months.  They just don’t hardly open their hands.  Its actually very cute, but means I had never really seen my son’s palm.

And then, one day not too long after we found out about the MRI, I was feeding him and he opened his hand.  And I saw his palm.  And his lifeline goes all the way around his thumb.  Just like mine does.  Just like my Granny Annie’s did.

Granny Annie was, if I am remembering correctly, 96 when she died.  Is that right mom?

Anyway, I saw the palm of my son’s hand and his lifeline and I stopped worrying.

You can call me daft if you like.  I don’t mind.  My husband surely will if he reads this.

But I still won’t worry about tomorrow.