Mama's Hero

The resilience and strength that kids have never ceases to amaze me. N was first diagnosed when he was a tiny little 6 year old. Even though we spent every one of those 6 years encouraging N that he's a big boy now, the fact is that 6 year olds are... only 6! For N, I certainly believe that because he never fully realized the gravity of his condition at the time, he plowed through and carried forward without doubt and without question. It sucked, it was unfair, but he dealt with it. As his mom, I think I take this for granted at times not fully understanding how experiencing something like this can influence a child at such a young age. When N was a baby and I would take him out in public, strangers worked extremely hard to elicit a smile, a smirk, acknowledgement.. anything! He was pensive from birth, but never expressive. Stoic and cool as a cucumber always. After we finished treatment 1.5 years ago, one of the marked differences I noticed in N was his expressiveness. He was notably more joyful when he felt joy, notably more jolly when he was happy, and notably laughed more heartily than he had before. One day it hit me that it's because when he feels good, he is excited about it. He understood misery, so he had a newfound appreciation for joy on such a basic level.

Today was admittedly a tough day for me. I won't go into the details, but when I'm trying to meet the emotional needs of 4 people on a daily basis, sometimes I end up running on empty. Twice today, N had a full blown emotional breakdown over seemingly trivial things. So at bedtime, I layed next to him and we talked about our rundown of random topics: the geography project, the story of Job, the stars in the universe, a book his teacher is reading to them at school, his best friend and the matching Pokemon t-shirt they promised to wear tomorrow, and then we talked about his breakdowns. He turned to me in the dark and said, "I know I shouldn't be crying so much about those things but I don't know why I did that... it's weird... today, I just felt like crying really hard. And screaming. And in my mind I knew I shouldn't be doing that but I just felt like it. I wanted to cry real bad." The physical stress, the anger of what he has to do and all that he isn't allowed to do, and the tiredness from the medications is perhaps weighing on him now. We all have those days I suppose, but for some more heavily than others. 

So while my day was hard, and while I am living through my own story of suffering, I'm actually on the outskirts of it while he is in the eye of the tornado. Many comment to me that I am strong and that I am positive. But the truth is that I am far from strong, and I have so many moments in each day that I cling to God desperate for my strength. And positivity? It is a conscious effort and deliberate choice. At just 8 years old, he really is my hero. His strength far exceeds mine, and despite feeling tired he still goes through each day trying to do everything that is expected of him. I heard a song on the radio the other morning and the chorus has since kept repeating in my mind. 

"You let me be where I've been

So I can be all that I am

Better for it"

One day, I hope N can look up and say a heartfelt prayer similar to that one, and that the influences of this experience at such a young age would never stray far from appreciating joy on a basic level, that he would come to truly understand the source of his strength, and, selfishly as his mother, that he would not have too many days in his life where he just wants to cry real bad.