I haven’t seen this big smile that goes all the way to his eyes in a while. I miss it terribly.
Matthew’s been having a really rough time. He’s in therapy and it’s helping, but he’s still having a really hard time.
He’s terrified that I’m going to get cancer again and die. And it’s really hurting him.
My heart is breaking for him.
Today was one of those days where he just couldn’t handle it. He woke up this morning and you could tell he had been thinking about it all night, dreamt about it maybe, and just couldn’t shake it. Luckily, the stars aligned and I had a snow day today. I made an executive decision that Matthew could stay home with me today. I called his therapist and she had a cancellation. So Matthew and I went to see Lego Batman. He smiled and laughed and my heart lifted a little. I got him his favorites from Panera. He went to therapy and I went with him. We hugged a lot. We talked a bit. It’s very hard for him to put it into words. I think it’s hard for him to talk to me because he doesn’t want to make me feel bad.
Do you ever have moments of parenting where you’re sure you should be saying something profound but you’re also sure you’re going to say the wrong thing and completely screw the whole thing up? I hope I didn’t today. I told him there are days when you have to power through and there are days when you cry uncle. And today was a cry uncle day. I told him that I’m scared too. That Dad is. That Amma is. That Amy is. That lots of people are scared of cancer coming back. But I told him it’s really unlikely. I told him that if it does I will fight like hell to beat it. I told him that when I get really scared, and it threatens to overwhelm me and consume me, I remind myself that I don’t want to miss out on today because I’m worried what might happen tomorrow. He is, unfortunately (or fortunately, however you want to look at it) learning that life is not fair. That life can really suck sometimes. But that you have to find inner strength and keep going.
I don’t know if I’ve said the right thing. I can only hope that something will stick and help. I hope I’ve shown him by example what it means to be strong. I hope I’ve let him know that I understand and completely get it like no one else. I hope he knows how incredibly loved he is and how thankful I am to be his mother.
I hope. And I’ll continue to hope. Forever.