Diagnosis: Heavy

It took all of 5 minutes to get our son’s diagnosis yesterday: Long QT syndrome.
“He may have no effects from it all all,” the doctor said, “Or he may go into sudden cardiac arrest and die.”

We were given a prescription for him, and we drove home. I’m completely dazed that my healthy, active boy has a heart condition. He’s never fainted. He’s never been out of breath. He’s never stopped going, going, going… and now I’m looking online at defibrillators for him.

As we made the long drive home, my husband fell asleep. I drove and thought about the diagnosis.
He will either grow up and never know the difference. Or he won’t completely grow up at all.

Basically, he was given the same diagnosis ALL of us have, but when you HEAR it… when someone with a doctorate actually looks you in the eye and says it: it hits home where it counts.
You will be fine, or you will die.
No control, no choice, no accident.

I really thought his EKG would come back squeaky clean. The Lord knows how much I have on my plate right now. As open book as this blog is, I regret (or maybe rejoice?) to inform you that you don’t.
I’m so durn heavy (I’m not just talking about pregnancy weight here, so save your guffaws) (or maybe don’t, because it is kind of funny to think of a pregnant lady talking about how heavy she is). I was heavy three weeks ago when I told my husband, “I have nothing extra on my plate right now. I’m even on a break from piano lessons, and there’s just so much to handle. I’m handling it. I am. I’m just heavy.”

The Lord knew how heavy I was that day, and He’s been extra close to me for the last month or so. I’ve been blessed beyond measure and I’ve been privileged to sacred experiences that have carried me through.
In a blessing given to me by my dad a few weeks ago, I was told I would have the strength to bear the unbearable.

And here I am.
In the eye of a raging tornado.
And I’m like:


Except I’m wearing combat boots, a construction helmet, and a bullet-proof vest.
It’s all very SERENITY NOW.

I keep looking around at the chaos and crap swirling around me, and I drop out of my yoga pose and onto my knees and say, “Thank thee. Help me. Amen.”
My blog is usually funnier and lighter. I love to find humor in hurricanes, but this? This is an F6 tornado.
It’s just not fun.

In the Temple on Tuesday, the Lord gave me some guidance that I thought was for one situation in my life that is causing me pain. It turns out it was more for my son and the concern and worry I have for him.
“Don’t think about the future,” He told me, “Don’t even think about tomorrow. Live today and then wake up and live today and then wake up and live today.”

Nora Ephron wrote an essay about life.
She said that we all know that we’re going to die, and yet… it feels avoidable, somehow. It feels avoidable because we get our mammograms and our skin checked and our shots and our this’s and that’s. It feels avoidable because we think we are in control.

We are not in control.
The only thing we can control is whether or not we’re going to tree pose it in the middle of a raging tornado or whether we’re going to plunge into the swirling chaos.
Either way, don’t forget your combat boots.

“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.”

“You must do the things you think you cannot do.”

~Eleanor Roosevelt


  1. Stephanie says:

    Alicia I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling. You are in my thoughts and prayers.

  2. I know this isn’t much, but I’m here. Call me.

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