this week parenting took a turn for the raw, heart wrenching and cruel for Hubby and I.
In our little patch of the universe, things turned on their head.
Our elation at the tumour that wasn't there lurking in Magoo's beautiful head after all was, unfortunately, to be short lived.
On Monday I was told that Magoo's brain scans have shown 'abnormalities'.
I was alerted that something is possibly attacking him as we cuddle, play, chat, bathe, sleep, eat, laugh, kiss...
Cue the sky falling down in my world.
I struggled this week.
Struggled to hold it together until Magoo was asleep for the night, so that Hubby and I could hold each other and sob freely, questioning and speaking the fears that our eyes were communicating over Magoo's head all evening.
Struggled with early mornings when I had 'that' moment. That sweet moment when you wake and for a split second this isn't happening. It was just a dream. A horrible dream.
Until you realise it wasn't.
This evening we saw a wonderful paediatric neurologist who knows his 'stuff'.
He doesn't yet know exactly what Magoo's 'stuff' is - but, like our beautiful boy, he's a man with a plan.
And tests. So many tests.
Starting tomorrow morning.