Whim saw his first bad seizure today.
It's weird, I've seen so many. We're in totally different places. Whim's seen his fair share of little ones and near misses. But the big ones change you, especially at first.
I've seen enough now, and seen him recover afterward, to know that it's ok. But I still remember the first one, and how I thought we had lost him. The panic and desperation and terror. Not of the seizure, though it is scary, but the lifelessness afterward. He came around, thank God, and was fine. But Whim didn't get it, then, how gone he was.
I guess I get why he wasn't always on board with the diet change and maybe didn't back me up enough at the doctor's appointments those first few months. Not that he didn't believe me, but he hadn't been rocked like that, yet.
For the first time today, I saw Whim mentally rolling over the puzzle pieces: twenty-two days, no new foods, he hasn't been sick, he did miss his nap this morning...
Welcome to the club, babe.