I made a Dr cry

I was too busy to grieve, I didn't need to, I knew she was dead and had accepted it, I had a job to do, several jobs to do for that fact and I was the only one doing them, the only capable one, NO, but the only willing one.  How true is this?  How fair is this?  Can one really count or call "fair" with a tragedy such as this?
I had obviously forgotten how time consuming it was to have a newborn, how it slowed EVERYthing you did down to a snail's pace, it was hard to shower, cook, clean or even poop for goodness sakes.  Most of my time spent relaxing on the couch was with an added 10 lbs to my chest and often a little drool spot or two as an added bonus.

David's health was doing good, he was such a good boy when he had to take his daily antibiotic and seemed to settling into a good routine which was working for our schedules.  Work was work, there was not a lot of working overtime for me now a days although I needed the extra money I just simple didn't have the extra time.  We made due with what we had and carried the attitude that things "always" work out, my daughter would say, "how do you know mom" I would tell her, "I can't explain it, they just do!"

I checked in with my folks daily if not more.  My mom was about the same which means she is still somber, cries daily, doesn't eat and barely dresses herself.  My dad was quieter, he was out in his shop a lot and would just always appease me and say "I'm fine" just worry about your mom.  I know they were both worried about me and the girl's and they would always ask about David and want to know how he was doing.  I talked to my sister at least twice a week and was planning on making a trip up to her house to spend a few days with them, she could bond with David and I could get some extra help and a little fresh air away from the daily everyday.  It was a nice drive, the scenery heavenly and the mountains were serene.  I liked being up there, it made me feel at peace.

Today was our appointment at the hospital with the infectious disease doctor, it would be a routine check-up, one of many to follow. 
We were greeted by the receptionist and sent back, the doctor met me in the hallway and joined us in the room.  He always smiled when he saw David wrapped up so tiny in his carrier, he always joked that it looked like a doll because he was so small.  He laid him on the table and examined him from head to toe, he wanted to know a little more history, well, he wanted to hear from me what had happened since the first meeting we had was when he was admitted and we didn't have a chance to talk face to face.  I held him close and began the story, I of course cried and so did the doctor, I was impressed sadly enough.  He was very very in tune with what had happened and this made me feel so much more at ease and knew that everything from this point on would be just fine with this little guy. 
The doctor spent more than an hour with me and gave me his cell# as I left the office, he wanted me to be aware of the seriousness of this illness and medication.  I thanked him for his time and concern and we left the office.      

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