Finally, a day without any tests on my baby.
We got very little sleep last night, and Ronan was tired today. We spent most of the day curled up in bed together. When Mimi Kay came to sit with him, I was able to leave for a while.
I went home to a quiet house, which was not as pleasant as you would expect.
As soon as I walked in, I felt weak and scared. I tried to keep busy doing normal things — paying bills, folding laundry — but nothing helped. I walked into Ronan’s room and completely fell apart.
I sat on his bed and the tears came pouring out. I screamed into his pillow. I beat my head against the wall. I could not stop crying.
I kept thinking, why me? Why him? Why us?
After about 20 minutes of that, I thought a shower might help.
It only made things worse.
I turned the water up scalding hot and let it burn my skin. I kept thinking, is this how my baby is going to feel going through chemo? Is he going to burn and hurt like this?
I deserve to feel this way. Not him.
I stood there for about ten minutes, letting the water burn me while I cried my heart out. I kept thinking, I’ve totally failed as a mother. I should have taken him to the doctor two months ago when he told me his tummy hurt.
In two days, I am going to start putting poison into my baby’s body to try to kill this awful disease.
This is so unfair.
And it still doesn’t feel real.
When all of this first started happening, my friend Lauren kept talking about baby Jack — a three-year-old who was also diagnosed with neuroblastoma. Lauren knew of Jack through a friend of a friend and passed along his mom’s number to me.
I met Laurie, Zac, and Jack a couple of days ago, and they have given me so much hope. Jack is such a beautiful little boy and is responding so well to treatment.
I instantly felt a connection to Laurie.
It’s just sad that it has to be under these circumstances, because I could tell right away that if this were normal life, we would absolutely be friends.
After sitting with Laurie for about an hour, we learned that Ronan and Jack are only a day apart in age — and were born in the same hospital.
How’s that for luck?
Shitty, if you ask me.
Laurie is the one I called today while I was in the middle of my two-hour breakdown at home. I hate that she has to be the one comforting me because she knows exactly what I’m going through. I wish it were just because she was my friend — not because she is a mom who has walked in these same shoes.
I’m tired tonight and going to try to get some rest. I wish I had the energy to write about how incredible people have been to us. My amazing friends and family. Strangers who have heard our story dropping off gifts, cards, and kind words.
I’ll save that for another day.
I’ll also save the story about the 80-year-old woman who was staring at me today while I was getting my twins shaved ice. She started a prayer circle in the middle of the store after the owner told her about Ronan — because praying is what she does morning, noon, and night.
Angels are everywhere.
People sharing their own stories with me. Taking time to talk. Reassuring me that everything is going to be okay.
I am somehow finding peace in the middle of complete and utter chaos.
Goodnight, my angels.
xoxo
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