It’s time to celebrate

Today my youngest son graduated from kindergarden. I have shed so many tears this morning, when I saw my two year old boy amongst his buddies, receiving his “diploma”, some sweets and his graduation hat. Three years ago, I was not even sure whether I would be alive in 2018 … and it was uncertain whether I would be able to keep my baby. The pregnancy had been – to put it mildly – rather rocky. Today, during his graduation ceremony, I thought about some of the most difficult situations:

  • The miscarriage I had suffered shortly before he was conceived.
  • The joy I felt when it was confirmed I was pregnant again. (I didn’t hear the “but” when they told me….)
  • The shock I had when I heard I had cancer. When I was told I would probably not be able to keep the baby.
  • The terrible time of waiting for a more detailed diagnosis, especially some sort of outlook on my life expectancy, possible treatments and my future quality of life. I was also anxious to know more about my baby’s health risks – would he be born with cancer?
  • The dreadful decision my husband and I made: we would only keep the baby if I was to live at least five years more. This is the moment I thought most about today. And I just kept crying.
  • The discussions about having chemotherapy during pregnancy. Of having a bone marrow transplant right after birth using the baby’s stem cells. (One of the most absurd moments. I don’t even know if I understood what my doctors wanted to tell me from a medical point of view. But hearing the words “Bone marrow transplant” and “birth” in one sentence just made me feel extremely uncomfortable.
  • The relief when I was told that I could keep my baby. (During my fourth month of pregnancy. Before I had been told during three long months: “Try not be happy about your pregnancy.” A very strange advice for a pregnant mother, even if she has recently been diagnosed with cancer, from my point of view)
  • The shock when it turned out he only had one artery supporting him with all he needed and the potential implications. ( I heard that during my fifth month of pregnancy I think)
  • I calmed down again. Then, when I was eight months pregnant, I was told his heart looked malformed – he would probably die immediately after birth or need intrauterine surgery.
  • The specialists we had to consult to find out more about the baby´s heart. And the day when they told us it was okay.
  • The day he was born. He was tiny, but perfect. And he continues to be perfect, although he has grown up.

I hope to see many more graduation days: preschool, primary school, secondary school and maybe others as well. I want to be there for him because I love him so much.

After crying my heart out today, I started to smile and to enjoy the moment. Because my son doesn’t deserve being linked to my chronic disease anymore. He deserves hundred percent of happiness and pure joy. 

Share on

You may also like

Previous Post

The skydiving deal

Next Post

Chronic Illness from dusk till dawn

Leave a Reply