Ronan Would Totally Pee on the Pictures…

I was born a fighter. It’s just the way I’ve always been. Growing up, there was nothing I couldn’t say or do. Nobody could tell me otherwise.

My family loves to tell the story about when I was about four years old. We came to Arizona to visit my favorite Aunt Sheri. The adults were looking at some pictures and told me I couldn’t touch them because they didn’t want my dirty little paws to ruin them. When they set the pictures down, I was so mad that I grabbed them, pulled down my little bikini bottoms, and peed all over them.

Since I was little, you couldn’t tell me what to do.

When my parents got divorced, I didn’t feel sorry for myself. I told myself, this is how it is, and you can either be a weak little girl about it or you can suck it up, hold your head high, move on, and look forward to the future. That’s precisely what I did.

In high school, I listened to no one. I drove my mom crazy with my “it’s my way or the highway” attitude. I came and went as I pleased. I was a leader, and I was fearless. I hated my stupid small town and couldn’t wait to escape because I knew there was so much more out there to explore and see.

I went off to college and never looked back.

I knew exactly the type of man I wanted my husband to be, and I wouldn’t settle for less. I thought that kind of man didn’t exist, and I was totally content being on my own.

All of that changed when I met Woody.

I knew on our first date that I was going to marry him. And tonight, when he had his arms wrapped around me in the hospital, I felt with every fiber in my body that everything was going to be alright. I don’t care that every odd is stacked against us. I don’t care what the doctors say. This is our son. He was born a fighter, and nobody is going to take him away from us.

I feel like screaming, “HEY YOU ASSHOLE!!! YOU CANNOT HAVE HIM. HE IS OURS, AND WE WILL NEVER GIVE UP!!!”

I know he is such a special little boy that somebody wants to take him from us. But I will fight with every bone in my body to make sure that doesn’t happen. And so will Woody.

Ronan is stronger than both of us put together. He has a fire in his soul and is exactly the type of little boy who would pee on some pictures if you told him not to touch them.

Today was Day 3 of Ro’s “magic medicine.” He is doing amazingly well with it. But I also know this is a very mild dose. He is having the hardest time getting used to the fact that he has to take medicine orally now, three times a day, along with the mouth care he has to do. He hates it. He fights and screams when he has to take it.

We have been holding him down while he spits it out, flaps his little arms and legs, and yells, “I need a break!”

He is such a little spitfire. I swear this kid was born with all of my strong parts and all of Woody’s strong parts. I’m going to be scared to see how he turns out in his teenage years.

Lauren came to visit us right in the middle of giving Ronan his medicine. She was so great at helping me. She bribed him with presents and made him laugh by putting little Matchbox cars all over her head and arms. Ronan’s friends from school made him a big sign, and Lauren brought gifts from a ton of people. She had a whole wagon full of stuff. It looked like Christmas around here.

Lauren just sat with us and loved him. She held my hand and cried with me for a bit. It’s hard to hold it together around her or even look her in the eyes because it’s like she can see right through my soul. She knows I am trying to be so strong, even though I feel like curling up in a ball and dying.

Mimi Kay and Woody were here most of the evening and night. Mimi helped me shower Ronan, which he is not loving. We have to cover his Broviac with a sticky cover and tape. It scares him because he knows we are going to have to rip it off when he’s finished. It will be nice to be home in his own big shower where things seem a little less scary.

Woody practiced giving orange shots tonight with one of the nurses. We will have to give Ronan shots every day in between chemo treatments. I am not looking forward to that at all. I don’t think there is any way to explain that to a three-year-old.

There is so much to learn before we go home on Thursday. Our life is going to be totally different. We are going to have to do things 110 percent all of the time. We have to keep Ronan well. We have to keep our baby as healthy as possible.

I talked to my friend Lisa today. I cried when I told her about Ronan. I could tell she was in shock and couldn’t believe what I was saying.

Do you know how hard it was to say, “Ronan has cancer”?

It was awful. It is awful. I still can’t believe it myself.

I also had Ro call my stepdad to talk to him. We just spent the entire summer with him, and he is devastated. I’ve lived with my stepdad since I was 13, and I have never heard or seen him cry.

Today, he bawled like a little boy.

It beyond broke my heart. He loves my boys so much, and he has a very special bond with Ronan.

We have to make it through this. I promised Ronan that next summer we would take him to the San Juan Islands, where Papa Jim drives the big boat to all the different harbors. Next year is our year to go. Ronan has been too young to go before, but we decided over the summer that at age four, he could.

We will go when this whole nightmare is over and our battle has been won.

I’m still trying to figure out why this is happening to us. Did I do something really awful in a past life? Is Ronan meant to be the poster child for this disease?

As I think I’ve said before, there better be a REALLY, REALLY good reason.

Because none of this seems fair.

But I am not going to whine, cry, or crumple up in a corner. I am going to stand strong with my friends and family around me until our little boy is back home and healthy again.