Am I really going to blog?: *12*

Thursday, March 3, 2011

12

"When you feel like giving up, try to remember why you held on so long in the first place."

******

My boy should be 12 today. I should be bickering with my pre-teen about clothes, music, video games, etc.

Instead, I went to the cemetary and sat by his grave. And cried.

Then I came home. And cried.

I thought about making some of his favorite foods tonight for dinner. Cried some more.

Put my pjs back on and poured my first glass of wine.

*****

March 3, 1999

My little fighter from the start. Born 4 weeks early, he spent his first 15 days in the NICU. And I thought that was hard.....

*****

March 3, 2000

My little man turned one! Chubby little guy loved his cake. Looking at him here it is hard to believe he had such a rough start. Hard to believe what was still to come.

*****

March 3, 2003

This was his 4th birthday, deep in the Spiderman phase. AML diagnosis just 3 weeks away....

*****
March 3, 2006

Cam & Ian celebrated their birthdays together this year.

*****
March 3, 2008

In just a few short months, they both wold be gone.

2 comments:

AnonymousMarch 3, 2011 at 3:02 PM
Thinking of you today. It is ok to cry and miss him. You were blessed to be chosen as his mother. Praying for you!
Eileen from Michigan
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BrittanieMarch 4, 2011 at 10:58 AM
(((hugs))) I'm glad you have the joyful pictures. I'm so sorry that he's not with you still. Crying with you.
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I HOPE....

I hope you never have to hear the words, 'Your child has cancer.'

I hope you never have to hear, 'The prognosis is not good.'

I hope you never have to prepare to undergo radiation or chemotherapy, have a port surgically inserted into their chest, be connected to IV poles. Look at you with fear in their eyes and say, 'Don't worry Mommy, everything will be okay.'

I hope you never have to hold your child as they vomit green bile.

I hope you never have to feed them ice chips for lunch.

I hope you never have to watch the 'cure' you pray for slowly take away their identity, as they lose their hair, become skeletal, swell up from steroids, develop severe acne, become barely or unable to walk or move, and look at you with hope in their eyes and say,'It's going to be okay, Mommy.'

I hope that you never have to stay in the hospital for weeks, months, or years at a time, where there is no privacy, sleeping on a slab, with your face to the wall, where you cry in muffled silence.

I hope you never have to see a mother, alone, huddled, in a dark hospital corridor...crying quietly, after just being told, 'There is nothing more we can do.'

I hope you never have to watch a family wander aimlessly, minutes after their child's body has been removed.

I hope you never have to use every bit of energy you have left, with all of this going on around you to remain positive, and the feelings of guilt, sorrow, hope and fear, overwhelm you.

I hope you never have to see a child's head bolted to the table as they receive radiation.

I hope you never have to take your child home (grateful but so afraid) in a wheelchair because the chemo and radiation has damaged their muscles, 35 pounds lighter, pale, bald, and scarred. And they look at you with faith in their eyes and say, 'It's going to be okay Mommy.'

I hope you never have to face the few friends that have stuck beside you and hear them say, 'Thank God that is over with,'...because you know it never will be. Your life becomes a whirl of doctors, blood tests and MRI's and you try to get your life back to 'normal'. While living in mind-numbing fear that any one of those tests could result in hearing the dreaded words...'The cancer has returned' or 'The tumor is growing.' And your friends become even fewer.

I hope you never have to experience any of these things... Because...only then...Will you understand...

(author unknown)