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So the last few days have been really hard, Gage is attached at my hip. I knocked him into the wall just now because I didn’t know he followed me into the bathroom. Thanks. He is crying, no correction screaming in his room right now, and I have anxiety because I want to go get him, but I know if he was not sick I’d let him cry it out. I just can’t.

This is the thing that is the hardest for us all to deal with as a family, how do we treat him? Do we give him special treatment? Let him throw tantrums? Ignore the fact he is acting like a ravong lunatic? Thank goodness we don’t go out in public anymore, because the tantrums come every day all day; and I don’t know what I’d do if Gage pulled this shit in public. Probably drop him off at thelocal fire station, in one of those “safe baby zones.”

Our doctors have told us to treat him like any normal seventeen month old. It is kind of hard to do when he gets meds twice a day and then more on the weekend, especially with chemo, spianl punctures, bone marrow samples, blood transfusions the list could go on…

Fuck I can’t take the crying/screaming it’s boardering on sad and God damn annoying. This is why I pick him up, because now he is hiccupping, with little whimpers and sniffles hugging me so close. It is almost worth hearing the screaming just to cuddle like this.

There is nothing I like better than shopping with my best friends, and I was lucky enough to have to be spending the first Monday in August shopping with one of the Besties. Little did I know by the end of the day all of our lives would be change forever.

That morning we woke up and Gage was acting not like himself, kinda crappy with a low-grade fever, which I attributed to teething; so I gave him some Tylenol and off to Ikea we went. After arriving at the store and stopping to grab a bite to eat at the yummy cafe, but Gage was still out of it didn’t want anything to eat or drink, he did nap a lot; that alone should have told me something was up.

By the time we left Ikea, I just was not happy with the way Gage was looking and acting so I decided to stop by my work, which just happens to be in the same medical office building (MOB) his pediatrician is. My logic being if there is something wrong they will give him antibiotics and send us on our way, if there was nothing at least all of my co-workers would get to see Gage; they love that. 

Of course everybody was so happy to see Gage, he is such a happy, chubby babby and he’s let anybody hold him or pet him. Since we were a walk in and our pediatrician was out we saw Dr. Cairo, and after giving Gage a quick look over, ears, eyes, mouth and chest he determined he was fine and it was probably just teething. Before he could walk out of the room though I mentioned he had an “odd rash” on his bottom and would he mind checking that out, please.

Petechiae, that’s what he told me it was. The definition of petechiae  is red or purple spot on the body, caused by a minor hemorrhage (broken capillary blood vessels). Oooookay…what does that mean??? The Doctor rushed blood work, and started him on double antibiotic shots in the legs, they tried to put a catheter in him, and that was not happening so they “bagged” him (they put a bag around his boy parts, to catch any urine, for a sample.)

Thank GOD, the Bestie was with me that day, I don’t know what I would have done if I was by my self. So after about twenty minutes the Doctor came back in and told us that he’d already booked us at a room in the hospital and get down there for more tests.

Oh my fucking God.

I immediately called the Hubs “Hey, we’re going to the Hospital, the Doctor didn’t say anything only we’d be there a couple of days, take your time come after work, should be no big deal.”  I couldn’t have been anymore wrong…

35,337,600 seconds, 588,960 minutes, 9816 hours, 58 weeks, 409 days. All normal, happy-go-lucky blissfully healthy days.

Having a baby was not in my plans, but once the stick turned pink and I calmed down enough to tell the Hubs the news we were both ready and willing; doing everything to make sure this baby had the best start possible,

Please be a girl, please be a girl, please be a girl. I unashamedly wanted a girl who I could dress up, pierce her ears and paint her tiny little nails…heaven!

So when the technician asked if we had any ideas on what the baby was, I excitedly said “it’s a BOY!” I got a glipse of something I didn’t see when I looked down to go the bathroom; and really who wants a girl anyway? They are all drama, and boys clothes are so much more cuter!

FINALLY on June 19, 2009 at 5:22a.m. Gage came into the world all cute and pink sporting the largest cone head ever! In fact the first thing out of the Hubs mouth about his first born, were “Oh my God, he looks like an alien!’ It love at first site, I still chuckle over it to this day.

The first year was so easy, I swear! He slept through the night at two months, I nursed until he was nine months, he crawled on time, was at the top of the charts on all doctors visits and he was just so damn cute! 

The first birthday, OMG! that was the best. I don’t care that he wont remember it I will show him pictures. Do you think eighty people was a bit excessive? Well if I’d have know that in less then two months our lives were going to changed so drastically, I would have hire that ‘effing petting zoo like I wanted.