Friday was a day The Husband and I have been dreading for a while. We were scheduled to travel as a family to Raleigh-Durham, where we would meet with a neurosurgeon at Duke to get a third opinion on The Kid’s upper spine, or Neckgate as the major news outlets now refer to it.

EXPOSITION! Prior to this trip, TK’s given diagnosis was a tilted top vertebra, with a resulting head tilt to the left. One doctor wanted to just watch it and follow up in a few months; the second raised the question of whether the bone was impinging on a nerve, and whether TK tilts his head to avoid pain. And might paralyzing that nerve with Botox (and asking for some for my ever-aging forehead while we’re there) alleviate his pain and lead to him holding his head upright? And if so, let’s go in and shave some of that bone off!

We were up and out before the sunrise, headed south toward the airport with a confused, definitely-and-despite-our-thorough-planning-AWAKE, footie-clad toddler in the backseat. I had done my fair share of reading and praying and being exhorted by wise writing to look for God in places I wouldn’t think he’d be. Well, a one-day round-trip flight across three states with a nearly-two-year-old and a pair of exhausted parents must qualify for that. Planners that we are, TH and I were armed with toys, books, and enough Cheerios to supply a daycare for a month. And sure, we had our moments. Like when the stroller toppled over and I muttered that I can’t do everything and announced that I needed a break from the whole thing. At 6:30 am. But for the most part, we remained an intact team–all the way into the airport family bathroom. They say marriage kills romance, but who doesn’t find it sexy to pee in front of their spouse while their toddler watches from his stroller?

Some stats from the trip:

Hours flying: 3

Hours spent at the medical center: 3

Hours spent talking to the neurosurgeon: 1/4

Crappy diapers: 2

X-ray machines avoided by me while carrying toddler: 2

Healthy meals consumed: 0

Cheerios/raisins consumed by TK: inestimable

Hours spent by TK napping: 1/4

So the long and short of it is that this doctor doesn’t think TK has a tilted vertebra as a cause to his tilted head; she believes his tilt is muscular and the bone tilt is a positional result. She recommended Botox for that muscle. She brought up possible long-term sequelae of not treating the issue. And then we left, waited at the hospital valet stand for 20 minutes, and tried to remember everything we had just heard.

TH had booked us a hotel room for napping and recovery, and since TK had chosen to take his nap on TH’s shoulder at the valet stand, he stood in his crib and stared at me while I lay on the bed beside him. He chanted his characteristic “ooh!”s and grinned at me. I know why the caged toddler sings, I thought deliriously, and it has to do with Cheerios and ignorance being bliss.

Our return flight went smoothly; there was The Cat in the Hat and wine, which the flight attendant handed over with a cup. At some point, preciousness and the cup were discarded and I drank straight from the bottle (and by at some point I mean immediately upon receiving said beverage). As TH read to TK beside me, I looked for God on the flight. I gave thanks that I had taken the morning shift because my vocal cords were currently rejecting the phrase “it is fun to have fun but you have to know how”. I gave thanks for how good Chardonnay tastes at 10,000 feet in the air after a day of toddler traveling. I gave thanks that this day was almost over, and vowed to send it off with the same words The Niece had recently proclaimed upon flushing the toilet: “BYE BYE, POOPIE!”

I’m confused. I’m frustrated. We’re still trying to figure this thing out, and that might never fully happen. I remember when love didn’t hurt so much, when it was just a word on a card or in a note passed during class. I remember when Friday nights were spent eating tapas on a sidewalk, not searching for our car in a parking deck. I remember when Tuesday afternoons meant running in Central Park, not getting a follow-up boob ultrasound. I remember memorizing Shakespeare, not Dr. Seuss. I remember when a pregnancy test stayed positive and wasn’t trumped by a month of bleeding. I remember when my plan for the day consisted of unfurling my towel on the ground in Madison Square Park and lying down with a magazine as I gazed at the cornflower-blue sky above.

I remember when things were easier. And then this happens:

I lie down on the hammock in the backyard and swing with the weight of a nearly-two-year-old on my chest, feeling him relax and fall asleep as his tiny hand grips my shoulder. I stare up at the sky, the same cornflower-blue sky a thousand miles away from Madison Square Park, the same sky that, three hundred miles from here, emptied rain up until the hour before our wedding, and afterward boasted a full rainbow. The same sky that, later this weekend, glowed golden over the water behind my parents’ house as The Niece ran circles in the backyard and TK toddled on the patio with his flashcards. There was a time when I sat alone on a fire escape waiting for the people who are now beside me to show up. And now, the sun dips low in the sky and gilds this moment in amber light and just where I would not expect it to, a snow-white gull soars overhead. There is easy, mystery-free living…and then there is the fullness of the weight of everything that matters.