Dear Kai,
I love watching you run. And jump. And try to skip. And just...being an active, hyper little boy. I love it. There's a flash of pride, because that's my boy, and look what he can do! There's a bit of "Ha!" thrown in, because how many doctors said we'd never see the day you would walk on your own? And there's a bit of laughter as well, because you're so funny.
And in just over a month, I'm going to take that away from you.
I'm sorry.
Mom and the doctors aren't trying to be cruel or unfair, and I know that's exactly what I'm going to hear, wails of "Mommy, it not fair! Kai wants to play too!" And you're going to be in casts for three months, unable to walk.
And it's all because of a decision that's never been in your hands, and instead was placed in mine. I could have said no. No one would blame me-you're my baby, and surgery is incredibly risky for you. Even with medication for your blood disorder, it's still risky, as it is for anyone. But I choose to go through with it, because I think the outcome is going to be better for you.
You see, your feet and legs...they're not like Mom's or Taryn's, or even Lala's or Connor's. Your muscles, baby...they got hurt when you were born. And your bones didn't grow right, and your tendons, little things like rubber bands that help your muscles and bones work, they can't do their job right-they're not long enough. And there's some stuff going on in your head too that keeps you from being able to walk long distances without falling, or run without tripping, and it's why you can't skip and Connor can, and so much more, and there's nothing I can do about your brain. Not a thing Mommy can do to fix what happened to the connections in your head.
But I can fix your feet. And your legs. So much of what happened with you and to you, Mommy can't fix. I can never make it go away. And it's Mommy's job to fix things, and to give you the best I can. So I'm going to fix what I can-your legs and your feet.
And I know it's going to hurt. And I know you're scared. I'm scared too. I'm scared that it's not going to work. I'm scared that something will go wrong. I'm scared, terrified, really, that you won't come out of it. Oh, I am so scared of that. It's been my biggest fear since they broke my water the day you were born and there was blood when there shouldn't have been. Your whole life...I've been terrified something horrible will happen to you.
But we can't let fear control us, baby doll. We can't let fear keep us from doing things that might improve our lives or help us get further in life. The most courageous thing you can ever do is face your fears and push through. And you, my little Batman, have pushed through so much. When I lose faith in my ability to push through, I think about all you've done and how far you've come and everything the doctors said you'd never do, and I know I can keep going. You're not as "fantastic" as some kids, who've pushed through things much more horrible than you have-kids with cancer, kids who've survived horrific abuse, kids who were born with fatal illnesses or genetic issues that should have killed them who are still alive and pushing through every day-but you're still MY superhero, and you've come through a lot. I keep faith that you'll come through this too, no matter how scared I am.
So, baby, we're going to face this fear head on. Aunty Sarah is coming, Lala Lilly will be there, and you know Mommy won't leave that hospital without you. Never have, never will. We'll push through the pain together, and we'll learn to walk again...together. One step at a time, baby blue.
I love you moon back to pizza,
Mommy
I love watching you run. And jump. And try to skip. And just...being an active, hyper little boy. I love it. There's a flash of pride, because that's my boy, and look what he can do! There's a bit of "Ha!" thrown in, because how many doctors said we'd never see the day you would walk on your own? And there's a bit of laughter as well, because you're so funny.
And in just over a month, I'm going to take that away from you.
I'm sorry.
Mom and the doctors aren't trying to be cruel or unfair, and I know that's exactly what I'm going to hear, wails of "Mommy, it not fair! Kai wants to play too!" And you're going to be in casts for three months, unable to walk.
And it's all because of a decision that's never been in your hands, and instead was placed in mine. I could have said no. No one would blame me-you're my baby, and surgery is incredibly risky for you. Even with medication for your blood disorder, it's still risky, as it is for anyone. But I choose to go through with it, because I think the outcome is going to be better for you.
You see, your feet and legs...they're not like Mom's or Taryn's, or even Lala's or Connor's. Your muscles, baby...they got hurt when you were born. And your bones didn't grow right, and your tendons, little things like rubber bands that help your muscles and bones work, they can't do their job right-they're not long enough. And there's some stuff going on in your head too that keeps you from being able to walk long distances without falling, or run without tripping, and it's why you can't skip and Connor can, and so much more, and there's nothing I can do about your brain. Not a thing Mommy can do to fix what happened to the connections in your head.
But I can fix your feet. And your legs. So much of what happened with you and to you, Mommy can't fix. I can never make it go away. And it's Mommy's job to fix things, and to give you the best I can. So I'm going to fix what I can-your legs and your feet.
And I know it's going to hurt. And I know you're scared. I'm scared too. I'm scared that it's not going to work. I'm scared that something will go wrong. I'm scared, terrified, really, that you won't come out of it. Oh, I am so scared of that. It's been my biggest fear since they broke my water the day you were born and there was blood when there shouldn't have been. Your whole life...I've been terrified something horrible will happen to you.
But we can't let fear control us, baby doll. We can't let fear keep us from doing things that might improve our lives or help us get further in life. The most courageous thing you can ever do is face your fears and push through. And you, my little Batman, have pushed through so much. When I lose faith in my ability to push through, I think about all you've done and how far you've come and everything the doctors said you'd never do, and I know I can keep going. You're not as "fantastic" as some kids, who've pushed through things much more horrible than you have-kids with cancer, kids who've survived horrific abuse, kids who were born with fatal illnesses or genetic issues that should have killed them who are still alive and pushing through every day-but you're still MY superhero, and you've come through a lot. I keep faith that you'll come through this too, no matter how scared I am.
So, baby, we're going to face this fear head on. Aunty Sarah is coming, Lala Lilly will be there, and you know Mommy won't leave that hospital without you. Never have, never will. We'll push through the pain together, and we'll learn to walk again...together. One step at a time, baby blue.
I love you moon back to pizza,
Mommy
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