May 13 2017

An open letter to my son for his fourth birthday

Little man,
For months I convinced myself I was pregnant. The doctors explained the unlikelihood of my ever having kids, but every month…I was so sure. Every negative test felt like a personal attack, like I was being punished for wanting a kid knowing my condition can be genetic.
Then it happened. I cannot explain why it was different, I just knew. Your dad had that look in his eye, the one he gets when he knows how badly the fallout will be when I get hurt. Your daddy though, he’s a patient and supportive man. He just smiled along as I talked about you; about the possibility of our life with you. Hearing your heartbeat, it truly was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.
I won’t lie to you, pregnancy was as terrifying as it was magical. I was determined to finish school and make a good life for you which kept me busy. The doctors’ appointments stacked up, the usual and the specialists. Then I developed SUA (Single Umbilical Artery) and that required extra fetal monitoring. Between trying to contribute financially and still figure out who I was, I cried a lot. I spent a lot of time wondering if I was a terrible person for wanting you so badly, when you could end up like me.
I want you to know, that if that day should ever come, there is no one that will fight harder for you, with you, than me. I am now and forever your biggest cheerleader.
You turn four tomorrow buddy, and I couldn’t be any prouder of you. You are smart, so smart and that makes it harder for mommy to hide things from you. I want you to know how loved and valued you are. Sometimes mommy hurts, sometimes mommy cries, sometimes mommy gets mad and anxious about things that have nothing to do with you, and I am sorry for that. Sometimes mommy will have to sit things out, or be away from you for a few nights. In these moments I want you to remember that you are the breath in my lungs and the blood in my veins. You are the reason I fight so hard. The reason I have survived.
Falling in love with your dad was like finding water in the desert, but falling in love with you was like finding myself. Finding where I fit, where I belong. Thank you for being my son. For being a loving and caring big brother, and for making your daddy and I so proud.
Happy Birthday, son.
Jack & I hospital

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Posted May 13, 2017 by in category "Crohn's Disease

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