Reflections

Today was a seemingly unremarkable Easter with family and our three boys laughing, running, and hunting eggs. And as I watched Auggie, something made me stop and absorb every bit of it. Today was the first time Auggie could carry his own basket without falling because of his ataxia. He ran steadily to each egg without spilling all of his eggs because of his vertigo. His eyes were able to focus on each egg rather than bouncing in his head from his nystagmus. He was able to point, shout and giggle. He was able to walk. He was able to talk. He could look at me in the eyes and smile and say, "Mommy! The Easter Bunny was here!"

It was a very symbolic day that made me reflect back to our Easters prior spent in small, cramped hospital rooms. We were unfortunate enough to spend Easter in the hospital in our journey to get Auggie well, and I will never forget the experience. It was like prison - we could not leave, we could not have visitors, and yet we watched helplessly as all of our doctors laughed together and exited one by one for their family trips to warm climates...or simply to their own homes to be with their own families. It was scary lonely. And in so many cases, families must divide to maintain "normal" for the remaining family members at home trying to get through the trauma of fighting critical illness. Those goodbyes are by far the worst for an already fractured family. For us, it was the pain of knowing that our two older boys were alone together back home with grandparents, but separated from us on such a special day. The empty corridors and the frustration at desperately needing tests and having them put off until the doctors returned on Monday only added more emotions to an already difficult time...

And yet, today, Auggie rose up in his easter clothes and ran around the yard like any healthy toddler having little recollection of those times. And I was reminded with a little mental tap that there are so many experiencing Easter in the hospitals today. So this post is to let those of you in that isolating place on Easter know that you're not alone.

Max, next Easter your mom and dad will watch you hunt eggs with Alex and Ellie in your backyard and your bone marrow transplant will have done all it was supposed to. And you will all be together and this will seem like such a distant memory....

....and Karen, as you all get through today having chemo ahead and behind you, know that you are loved and admired and thought of by those that have been through this. And you will be inspiration to those that have to go through it in the future....

Though these times may seem unending and unbearable, they are the fabric that wrap around us and lift us up to become stronger, healthier and greater than before. Before you know it, this time will merely be a reflection of where you've been.

With our warmest thoughts on Easter.