Sunday, December 19, 2010

A letter to Mason

Dear Mason,

My beloved Jelly. My miracle baby. My second son. My joy. How I love you. More than I have words to express.

I've been trying to write this letter to you for over an hour now, well for days really, but I just haven't been able to do it. Every time I try the tears come, hard, until I can't see enough to type.

It's midnight and your father is sleeping besides me and I'm trying not to cry to loud and wake him up since he has to be up in only 4 and a half hours for work and he is already exhausted. In part because of long work days and not enough sleep but mostly because he is worried about you.

But I'm going to do it. I'm going to start this blog with a letter to you because I'm running out of time. Even if we wait till I'm full term for you to be born that's only 4 weeks away and I need to get this started so it's ready to go once you are born. I don't want to get behind or I will never be able to keep up. I've lived with myself and my ways for almost 41 years now and I know that getting behind is a bad idea.

I think I haven't been able to write it because in some ways it makes this whole thing more real. Like putting down the words that I can't take back means acknowledging that you do in fact have a serious heart defect that other children have not survived.

I think that's the hardest thing I've ever written. But there it is. In black and white.
But also starting this blog is showing my faith, my absolute belief that you WILL survive. That you will live.

I'm keeping this blog for you my love so someday when your older and can understand such things you can read about your journey and understand what you experienced before you are old enough to remember. It will also be a way to update all our friends and family about your daily progress.

When your Dad and I talk about you and make plans for the future we say.."because Mason IS coming home" we always emphasise the IS.

It's our mantra, it's our talisman, it's our fact. It is the solid place we hold on to while this violent storm of bleak diagnoses, possible surgeries, and scary outcomes rage around us.

You are. I believe this. I know this.

You are coming home Mason. You are coming home.

I love you my beautiful baby boy. You are coming home.

So I've done it. I've started the blog. I hope to keep it as a record for you till your stable and your heart issues are more a part of your past than an everyday part of you life. Then I will turn it into a blog book so you can know and I can remember.

You have been kicking me as I type this. Sometimes I worry that you are so active because you are reacting to my tears. But I think you are actually just pissed because you don't like the way I'm sitting and squishing you. I like that. Already pissy just like your Mama.

You can't imagine how much you are loved,