Blessed

I kept Tucker home from school again today.  Not only did he puke in my hands last night, but he was massively sleeping when it was time to get up.  I didn’t have the heart to wake him.  Upon waking, he seemed fine, but I didn’t want to risk going to our usual haunts as he’s still super-tired, clingy, and a little feverish.  So, this morning, as I was playing trucks with him, and feeling bored, I checked Facebook on my phone. I came across a post that not only changed my day, but, hopefully, my outlook on life.

Here I was, having the luxury of feeling bored, able to play trucks and airplanes with my son.  And here this other mother was, mourning the loss of her son, Ty Louis Campbell.  I cannot begin to understand the depths of despair and depression that a mother goes through when losing her child.  Honestly, I do not believe that I would be able to go on.  With no other children to comfort, with no other futures to nurture, I do not believe that I would not completely implode if Tucker were no longer here.

I had never read Cindy’s blog before today.  But after reading that she lost her precious son to cancer, I stopped messing around with my phone and took Tucker outside and inside and outside again.  For the rest of the day.  I blew bubbles, drove trucks and flew tiny airplanes.  Over and over and over again.  And it was fun.  I didn’t even mind when he refused to lay down for a desperately needed nap.

There have been days that I have grieved over Tucker’s lack of language.  Over his “speech and language delay.”  I would be lying if I said that it doesn’t make me really, really sad that Tucker (sometimes) struggles so much to repeat what I say when he’s asking for something.  When he can perfectly imitate the “ch” for “chips” but then says “pee” for the “ips” part of it.  It breaks my heart.  And scares the hell out of me, wondering whether he will ever be able to say “chips” normally.  When he can perfectly say “ice” and “cweam” but not “icecweam.”  I would also be lying if I said that seeing other three-year olds chattering away endlessly doesn’t fill me with sorrow, because it does.  It makes me jealous.  But reading Ty Louis Campbell’s mother’s blog, and knowing that she had to give her lifeless boy a bath tonight after marveling that his tiny body was still warm –  makes me feel so lucky.  So blessed.  And it makes me hate cancer, especially in children.  Feeling these especially raw feelings for a family I’ve never met made me a better mom today.  It made me remind Robert that just because Tucker is feeling ill, zoned out to videos on the couch, that it’s still NOT okay to just mess around with our iPhone apps.  That we are SO LUCKY to have Tucker in our lives.  Speech, smeech.  He is HERE.  And he is PERFECT.  Just the way he is.

Thoughts and prayers to Ty Campbell’s family tonight, and for all of their heartbreaking nights to come.  I wish them peace.  And, I hope nobody takes this the wrong way, as I know that it in no way lessens their horrible grief, but I am so glad for them that they have a healthy boy to raise, and to remember Ty with.  I know that sounds weird, but as a mother to my only son, I truly believe that I would not be capable of “moving on” without Tucker.  So I’m happy that they will, again, at least hear the gleeful laugh of a growing boy echo their walls.  Disease should just leave kids alone.  Focus on the rest of us* who deserve it for eating processed, growth hormone-injected foods, smoking, not exercising, and generally just not appreciating the gift that life is.  Because, obviously, even when it doesn’t feel like it, life’s a gift.  Just ask the mother of a little boy who will never go through puberty, learn to drive, get married or have a child of his own.

 *But, please, not me yet…I very badly would like the gift of watching Tucker become the man that he will one day.