I feel like such a failure as a parent, on June 24, 2009 the doctors sent us home from the hospital with a healthy new born baby; and I couldn’t keep him that way. They trusted me, Gage trusted me and I failed them. I understand this is like one of the most irrational thoughts on the planet, but I can’t help it. I’m his mom and I am supposed to protect him, keep him safe. Yet every time he gets chemotherapy I am putting toxic chemicals into his body, that I can’t even throw in the trash because it’s so dangerous they need to be incinerated. I’m pumping this directly into his heart. His HEART!
The one question I have gotten asked at least once a day if not more since Gage was diagnosed with leukemia is “how do you do it?” or “I don’ know how you guys do it.” Really? Like I have a choice, I can’t twinkle my nose, fold my arms, and nod my head to make this go away. Trust me because I have wished, begged, pleaded and threatened the world to make my baby better and I can’t make him better. But truly I do what I have to do, I don’t have a choice. He hasn’t given up on me so I can’t give up on him. I will continue to fight for him, for the rest of his life.
When Gage was born, I made the decision to try and exclusively breast feed, it was hard, and it took a lot of work and dedication on my part, and lots of patience on the Hubs part. Thank goodness he has a lot of patience, because my breast pump was my best friend for nine long months. Which was how long I was able to nurse for. After Gage was diagnosed, I kept having this reoccurring dream, that I was still able to nurse and the cure for his leukemia was my nursing him. I woke up and it was so real, I was lying on a cot in his hospital room, ready to cry because here was the answer, the cure to his leukemia! and I had it in me the whole time, literally, IN ME! But after I really woke up and looked at Gage, asleep in his hospital crib with tubes and wires hooked up to him, I realized it was all just a dream and I was back in Kansas again; but instead of Kansas I was in room 4114 on the fourth floor of the pediatric unit.
Sometimes I wish I could click my heals together and go back to the day we left the hospital back in June 2009. To be completely ignorant of all the hell we have been through. To never have seen my child almost die in from of my eyes. To not cry with my sisters every we time we talk about “that night”, because they should never have had to see their 14 month old nephew intubated. I hate the fact I had to call the Hubs at 11:45 at night telling him to get back to the hospital, because they needed to take Gage into surgery and they don’t know if he is going to make it. I don’t know how the Hubs can trust me after that, when I don’t even trust myself.