When you can't control what happens to your kids (i.e. always)

Yesterday was a rough day for me. Probably because I'm too sensitive and if there is such a thing, too empathetic.  One of my dear friend´s 20 month old daughter was undergoing planned open heart surgery.  She was born with a heart murmur and they waited all this time to see if it would shrink, which it did, but not enough for her to be able to live a healthy life without the risk of problems later down the road. So they made the tough choice of having the 5-6 hour open heart surgery.  At the same time as I was sending positive vibes her way I start finding out that in one of my previous jobs everyone except for 5 people are getting fired.  So my heart starts breaking little by little. The fact that my friends were getting fired was tough enough, but waiting 5-6 hours without hearing news about my friend's daughter was heart breaking to say the least.  I couldn't even imagine how my friend must have been feeling.  My dear Sebas had surgery when he was about 15 months old.  Something totally minor in which the procedure probably only took 20-30 minutes.  But Jose was a mess, as usually happens in these moments of crisis.

By now I've figured out that the M.O. in our family during times of crisis is that Jose's a mess during the crisis and I have to step up and be the calm one.  And then once the crisis is over I pretty much fall apart.  This one time when Sebas had surgery I had to hold him in my arms while the nurses put a mask on him with the gas that would make him fall asleep before they could do anesthesia and perform the surgery.  Jose was somewhere off in the hospital literally standing up against a corner looking at the wall like he was a boy in class who'd been punished. Meanwhile I was singing to Sebas while I felt his body go limp, maybe the Itsy Bitsy Spider, I can't even remember.  But I do remember thinking, despite my usual optimism, what if this is the last time he falls asleep in my arms? What if he doesn't wake up from this? Of course he did, and of course everything turned out fine, but I couldn't help the tears coming down my cheeks while singing the Itsy Bitsy Spider thinking about the remote possibility of him never waking up again.  If this was a 30 minute totally safe procedure, how must have my friend been feeling all day yesterday? Needless to say, between this and my friends getting fired, I didn't sleep very much at all last night. Thankfully my friend's toddler came out of a 100% successful surgery. While the first 24 hours are critical, the surgeon said the surgery couldn't have gone better and that her little heart is officially fixed.  And my friends? I know they will find jobs.  I know everything will be OK, but boy it's such anguish to be going through those periods of crisis, especially having to assume the role of the one who's keeping it together knowing that when the whole thing is over I'll need to have a good cry, fall completely apart, and put myself back together.