Ronan. 2 years ago today, April 23rd, I went to Hell. I’ve been to Hell a few times in my life, and it’s not the place that people think you go after you die and you have lived a life of sin. Hell, to me, is right here on earth. Hell, to me, is what I have experienced while living, half alive. On April 23, 2011, I went to Hell. It was your last scan day at Sloan Kettering. Fernanda was with me. I remember every detail about that day as if it had happened yesterday—the waiting in the waiting room for Dr. Kusher to come out and read us your results. Watching my friend, Doriet, howl like an animal in that same waiting room as she had just been told that there was nothing left to do for her daughter, Esther. Grabbing Doriet as she walked by and squeezing her so tightly, I whispered in her ear that we would find something or someone to help. Looking at Fernanda and saying to her, “They have to walk out of here having just been given the news that there is nothing left to do for their daughter. How are they going to leave here? How can that just be it?” I had no clue that 20 minutes later, I would be in the same situation.
Fernanda and I sat and waited. Dr. Kushner came bursting through the doors, breezing right past us. Fernanda whispered to me, “There he is! Ask him!” I watched his body movements, how he avoided eye contact with me, and rushed right past me as if he didn’t see me waiting there. I knew he did. My stomach dropped to the floor. My name was called to come back and get you as you were waking up from your anesthesia. I couldn’t wait to scoop you back into my arms, safe and sound. You were groggy but so happy to see me. You were upset about the bone aspirations in both of your little hip bones, asking me why I let them do that to you. I rocked you out back out in the waiting room to try to calm you down. Then, the sign of all signs that everything was about to come crashing down. That damn necklace. My “lucky” necklace, which I had worn religiously on every single scan day, broke in two and fell on the floor. I watched the necklace fall to the floor in slow motion. I swear time stopped. “Dr. Kushner will see you now!” we were told. I grabbed you, Fernanda followed me, and off we went. I felt like I was walking the plank of a pirate ship with a big sword in my back, waiting to be dumped into a sea of blood-hungry sharks.
Dr. Kushner was waiting to see us, alright, but not how I wanted. He paced back and forth like a caged animal. He couldn’t or wouldn’t look me in the eyes. “The treatment. The treatment didn’t work.” I sat there, shaking, as you played on the floor with some cars. I don’t remember much after this except saying to him, “OK, well, I know you have a plan because you said you wouldn’t give up on my child, so I’m going to go back to Phoenix until you figure out what is next.” He called your daddy, too, at some point. I don’t remember what was said. I remember feeling like my legs were cement, and I couldn’t get up from the chair. Somehow, I managed. I also managed to hug Dr. Kusher and say, “Thank you. You are a good man.”
I told this to a man who was too much of a coward to give me the decency of looking me in the eyes and simply telling me he was sorry. I picked you up, and off we went, somehow managing to make it back to the Ronald McDonald House to pack up our entire life that we had created in a matter of hours to hop on the soonest flight out of there. I did none of this. I threw Coconut Water at the wall and watched it explode everywhere. I told you we were having a pop-throwing party as I sat on the floor with you and Fernanda, and we let all kinds of soda and water explode everywhere as we threw it against the wall and all over the floor. You thought this was funny. I did, too, as I lost a piece of my mind that day, never to get it back again, and I honestly don’t miss it.
I sat in the basement somewhere while Fernanda stayed with you and let you chase her about. I screamed and cried into the phone to our Mr. Sparkly Eyes. He could barely talk as he knew nothing would calm me down. I remember him just begging me to get it together so I could get you home, and he promised me we would go from there. I think I said the words, “No, no, no, no, no, no,” over and over again as I could not even form a sentence at this point. Valium somehow came into play, I think. The next thing I knew, our ten suitcases that came out of thin air were packed, and we somehow managed to get a late-night flight out of New York home to Phoenix. Again, not me. That would be the magic of Fernanda. Only she could somehow manage to orchestrate something of that magnitude in the middle of the most significant shitstorm of both of our lives. Somehow, we survived scan day from Hell to be plopped back to Phoenix. I remember nothing after this. I don’t know the reunion with your daddy and how the fuck that conversation went. I don’t remember getting home to our house and explaining to your brothers what was happening. It’s as if my memory of the next few days has been erased. I guess that happens when you suffer from something as traumatic as what had just happened in New York. It’s part of the PTSD, I suppose.
Fast forward, and here I am, two years later, having survived one of my many trips to Hell and back. Here I am, having spent all day today thinking about you and what I was doing two years ago as I was still fighting with everything I had to save you. Today, I spent much of the day like I have been since your sister was born. I was rocking her, snuggling her, feeding her, and taking care of her. I’m listening to my head as it screams for you, but the screaming is a little less now that she is here. Wondering if your sister is you, reincarnated. Is that a real thing? I don’t know, but it crosses my mind. What if it were? How would I feel about that if it were? Would it make this pain any less? I don’t know. It’s because of that dimple of hers that I can’t stop thinking of this. You had That secret dimple on the right side of your face down by your chin. The tiny little dimple that only showed up when you smiled.
I think that she has it too, and it is freaking me out and making my mind believe insane things like, “What if this is Ronan’s way of coming back to me because he saw how much pain I was in and he couldn’t take it anymore so he came back as a baby girl…” You know me and my imagination… wild and crazy. Then there is the other little voice in my head saying, “Don’t be crazy. This is Poppy, not Ronan, but she is here to save you, too, in her way. Her magical, special, Poppy way.” Whatever the honest answer is, Ronan, I’ll take it because either way is your gift. I know this.
Your Nana is here, and it has been excellent. She is so helpful to me, and I love watching her bond with your sister. She is such a good Nana. It is bittersweet, but I know you would want it this way. You would like us to be happy as much as we can without you here. Tomorrow, your Fairy RoMo is popping into town to peek at your sister and meet her god-daughter. I am so beyond excited to see her and introduce the two of them. I know it will be love at first sight. I only wished she could have met you as well. Tomorrow, I feel like she will meet a piece of you, which will be beautiful. Your little sister is lucky to have a Godmother like her, as she truly is one in a million.
Alright, little man. I’m sorry I haven’t been writing. Things have been busy yet calm. We are all soaking in this little time window with your sister, as I know how fast the newborn stage goes by. She is a dream and is such a good baby. We are all amazed at how she doesn’t cry. Ever. She is the most peaceful little thing. I guess somebody must have told her how badly we all need a little peace in our lives. Thanks, baby doll. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams
xoxo
ROCKSTAR RONAN 
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