Its late, I'm up. This time waiting for Dr Goldman from Chicago to Skype me. I recently emailed him and he's not one for emails but prefers to Skype. Im happy with that but the time difference kinda sucks and all i want to do right now is sleep. But he's just getting up and starting his day so I'm now waiting for his call. Hope he will call soon.
I like to talk to him. He eases my mind somewhat and puts me in a place i need to be. Although he never tells me what I really want to hear. Wish he could. But I know no one can do that.
It's quiet. All I can hear is the sound of the fridge. Damn noisy fridge come to think of it. Thinking about my little man and stuff I've been reading on the Internet. Honestly sometimes I think I'm better off not doing that at all as it only depressing me further- if that's even possible.
I cut back on my antidepressants recently, thinking I would try to do this without. Not sure what I was thinking with that stupid idea and have only managed to put myself further into a dark cloud. I guess I just worry about relying on medication, but I'm thinking some situations call for it and for me, I think it's something I'm going to have to stick with for a while, if not indefinitely.
I wish I was getting a call from Dr Goldman and he was going to tell me that they have found a cure! That would be my wish come true. Just to know my little man was going to be ok would just be the best news I could possibly EVER hear.
I so want my man to be the miracle I believed him to be when I first held him in my arms. The miracle that beats the odds and the face I see now, become the face I see on a man. The baby I gave birth to get to grow, be old, get married, have children. I so want that for him.
Every time he talks about when "he gets bigger" my heart aches. Sadness fills me and I just want to cry. I still haven't put Luke's application into the high school we want him to go too as I can't bring myself to put one in without one for Jayden. It just kills me.
His little smile when he talks about what car he's going to drive when he grows up brings tears to my eyes. It's always a combi van or family van while Luke's is always some form of sports car. He talks about taking me for a drive and how we could all fit into his car and I'm so choked up it hurts. It's awful.
I try and not think about it, but there are hundreds of constant reminders every day.
All I want is for him to have the life he was meant to have. Be the miracle I so desperately want him to be. Prove all the doctors wrong and be the 10%. But I am not alone. 100s of other mums are hoping for the same for their children and all of us knowing the odds are against us.
I hate this journey with a passion. I hate that my son is such an innocent victim of a dreadfully nasty cancer. Just hate it.
I still can't look back on pictures of the past without strong feelings of sadness. Missing the time when we were a normal family and wishing so much for it to be that way again. But no matter what, I know it never will be.
He's late. I'm super tired now and I feel so bottled up that a good cry is on the cards. What an existence?
I just checked on my kids and they are all happily sleeping, My little man squished up against his dad and all are snoring.
I'm so grateful he's here. That all my kids are with me. But I know I will never, ever stop wishing that they all get the long happy lives they deserve. Please god, grant me that wish.
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