Still My Boy

Today is hard, friends. It feels heavy, and suffocating, and like we are marching into something bad but just can’t stop it. I’ve spent today in and out of tears, though I have tried my best to keep it from the girls. Maybe this is a time to be thankful for their occasional self absorption?  😊. 

My mommy intuition has felt triggered for quite some time now, so I am not sure that anything tomorrow will shock me. I have researched and analyzed until my eyes won’t stay open in the wee hours of the morning. But, it still hurts beyond belief. As we have watched our little boy overcome obstacle after obstacle and have a medical chart thicker than most adults, we have taken comfort in the fact that he would eventually grow stronger, get bigger, and only little remnants of his prematurity would remain. Now, it feels like the difficulties of the last nine months may have just been the tip of the iceberg, and there is so much of me that wants to say, I can’t do more. I’ve used every ounce of strength and hope and faith and I can’t possibly have a lifetime more. My baby has already been given too much. No more. 

In the midst of my heartache today, there are two things that give me peace. One, I know He goes before us. I know that nothing about tomorrow, nothing about my boy is a mystery to Him, and He is good. Secondly, the sweet baby that I am in love with today will be the exact same baby tomorrow. No diagnosis will change who he is. He will still be my precious little guy that’s spoiled beyond measure. He will still be the same baby that smiles so hard it looks like his face may break.  The one whose head never turns more quickly than it does when he hears his dad’s voice enter the room. He will still be the apple of his sisters’ eyes. He will still be our beloved baby boy. Our Dex. And we will still be his parents who adore him and will do anything for him, just the same as we have been for every single second since we began this fight for him.