Gifts

I love the anticipation of the 20-week ultrasound.  I LOVE to organize and get things ready for a new baby.  Finding out the gender is top of my list for favorite things of pregnancy.  As soon as we find out the gender, I start to plan at least two things.  Name and nursery.  I love being able to say, "I'm due...It's a...and we'll name it..." It just makes me so happy.  And, oh mama, those sweet little newborn diapers?! I die!!  If I had a hard day, I'd shut myself in the nursery, pull out a diaper, and imagine my new bundle of joy.  It's funny that I'd imagine a new bundle of joy, when most times, it was my other bundles of joy that was causing me to have a bad day.  Anywhooo, I love the planning that comes with that 20-week ultrasound.

Caden finished his last day of chemotherapy today.  

It was an emotional time.  As the pump blared incessantly that it was "End of Infusion" I bawled like a baby!! 

It was probably the only time I haven't been bothered that it was beeping.  He is DONE!!! 

When the tears had run dry, I sat down and looked back over the last few months.  And then it hit me...he started his last Round of chemo exactly 21 weeks after this all started.  21 weeks!! It has gone so fast and SO slow at the same time.  I decided to take this time and make some plans for the "new" family we are soon to have, to get excited for things to come that will make our lives happier.

I recently read an incredible story of a mother than caught her son just moments before he drown.  She talked about taking her kids to the pool after a week of family visits.  She wanted to get them good and tired to take a great afternoon nap.  I found myself relating to so much that she was saying, I know we would be friends.  When her son wanted to continue swimming, but her younger daughter didn't, she put his floaties on and told him to stay close to the edge, allowing him to get in without her.  She watched him for a while, but then turned her attention- for a moment- to her little daughter.  She was taking pictures and planning posts, thinking of ways for the world to see her as an amazing mom (much like I've done sometimes), only to look up and see her son bobbing just below the surface.  So many things happened in just a short time, but the fear stabbed fast.  In just a moment, her life was changed forever.

She continues the story, telling us that she ended up taking him to the ER to be checked out.  As she was sitting with her son, smelling his hair and touching his sweet cheeks, the tears started to flow.  She thought about the scenario if her son would have drown.  Telling her husband his son had died while she was looking away, having his last memories be a hurried goodbye at the door that morning, and worrying that CPS would come to take him away.  Although Caden didn't drown, I know how she feels.  Things happen, sometimes, so quickly that it leaves us breathless.  We barely have time to process what is happening at that moment, let alone think of what would happen if things had gone differently.  Being so grateful for just one more touch, one more breath, one more minute.

It's hard to think back on the beginning of our journey.  I was so scared, I could barely breath.  My son had cancer!  My SON!  How did this happen?  I thought it was just pneumonia.  I knew he was sick, but that sick?  What happened to the pulled muscle I thought he had?  Or the viral infection that we were certain it was just two weeks before?  Cancer?  What was happening?!  It hurts too much to dwell on it.  My heart is still bleeding from it all.  It's just too soon to remember.  But, I can relate to this mother.  My son was close to death, had been through something so scary, and for reasons I am thankful for, Heavenly Father has given us more time with him.  I don't want to take this time for granted.  Ever!

The title of this article is The Gift of Presence.  She says, "What I mean by being present, is to be involved, aware, in-tune, and connected.  To not just physically be there, but to really BE there.  Soaking it all in.  Participating.  Adding to whatever it is.  Enjoying.  Not just being around, but being...present."  These words have played in my mind for a few weeks now.  I remember the first few days looking for anything I could; to remember just how my son was at that moment and many before.  I looked for things to make him laugh, to hear it just one more time, in case it happened to be his last.  I found myself remembering all of the fun stories that Caden used to tell, the funny things he used to come up with.  I wanted to remember everything.  I often left my cell phone on vibrate to concentrate on only Caden.  I was just so scared that he'd go downhill too fast to stop.  The nights with ICU stopping by almost every hour, I was in a state of overdrive.  I remember what the nurse was wearing, what smells were most prominent that night, and just about everything that littered the walls/floors of our room in FA.7.303.  I can't remember every room we've been in, but when I walk by that room (a room I will never forget) I can bring up many memories of things we did in that room.  It was the room that our lives changed so much.  The diagnosis room.  The First Round room.  I never took a moment in that room for granted.  I cherished every laugh, going out of my way to make it heard, feeling a poignant pain of sorrow when I didn't.  There was nothing that could have taken my attention from the boy in the bed.

While I am SO grateful that I don't have to worry (as much) about my son dying, I don't want to slip back into my old life.  I know that my habits will come back, that I will never be a person that cares absolutely nothing about the cleanliness of my home while spending every second with my kids, but I do want to make more of an effort to be present when I am with them.  To watch the movie that they are watching.  To play the games that they are playing.  To put my phone away, get off the computer, walk away from the book, and be there.  With them.  Enjoying them.  She closed her post, "Presence is a gift.  I plan to give mine to others, and to enjoy every moment of my children's gift to me.  If people are left hanging? That's ok, they will survive.  And guess what?  So will my son."  Beautiful.

Tonight, I don't plan to scour baby-name books, or purchase sweet newborn diapers, or look for baby bedding and perfect paint colors to decorate a room. Tonight I make plans to remember the last 21 weeks.  Not where I look back at the stories of tragedy and remember.  No, I'll never forget those stories, even if I wanted to.  No, I plan to remember the feelings of absolute helplessness watching my son suffer and be grateful for the days of health that we all enjoy.  I plan to remember the sense of loss I felt each time I had to say goodbye to my babies, knowing I wouldn't see them for weeks, and be grateful to be with them every second.  I plan to hug them longer, kiss their cheeks daily, to tuck them into bed until the day they ask me not to.  I plan to enjoy taking them to school, making their lunches, making homemade meals and sitting around the dinner table, watching the Family movie they want.  I plan to not just watch a movie with Randy after the kids are in bed, but to snuggle and hold hands each time.  I want to remember the hard times we've endured to make the together times better.  This 21 weeks has not begun a new life in my belly, but a new gift in my heart.  A family that will grow in love from our experience.

This experience has been a gift in more ways than one, I refuse to take it for granted.