I love you with all my heart son, but if I could take away your epilepsy, I would.
I sometimes wonder who you would have been without it. Would you be sitting now? Would you be walking and talking? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way the seizures are still a hinderance in your development. I don't think I realised the damage they were doing until you lost your ability to smile. When you couldn't open your eyes and you couldn't lift your head, I thought epilepsy had taken all you'd got.
You smile all the time now, my precious child; but when you look at me with such fear in your eyes, it breaks my heart. I don't know what's happening in your brain, but I know you're terrified. It's scaring you. I wish I could make it stop.
I'm not sure what's worse; the seizures that scare you or the ones that scare me. Seeing you go blue like that will never get any easier. Seconds stretch to minutes, minutes feel like hours. I force the air into your lungs, breathing for you while your brain resets, praying you'll breathe again.
Epilepsy doesn't make you who you are my child; you are amazing and wonderful and beautiful and brave.
Your epilepsy defines me at times though- I am scared and frightened and angry and sad.
I love you my son.
But if I could, I would take away your epilepsy in a heartbeat.