Here's To A Boring Year

Too much excitement just might kill me!

Indie Rose

This morning, all I see in my Facebook feed is the story of Indie Rose. Diagnosed with leukemia at just 3 months old, she passed away in her mother’s arms last night. It breaks my heart. I look at my boy sleeping in my arms, and it makes me physically sick to imagine that he never woke up. That I could never hold him again, or see his smile or hear him laugh. For a brief moment, we could have been that close, and it terrifies me. I didn’t know Indie or her family, and I know she is one of many children this year who will lose their battle with cancer. It is outrageously unfair that something so awful can happen to anyone so young. These kinds of stories are really starting to hit me now. I think that I have never really grieved for what happened to Monkey, and now, closing in on 2 years since his diagnosis, it is all starting to come out. When you’re in the middle of it, you just have to get on with it, be strong for your baby. And when you learn you’re one of the lucky ones who gets to keep their beloved child, it feels inappropriate to ever be sad. But I am sad. I remember that cold hand clenching my heart, being unable to catch my breath, wondering if I was going to have to watch my baby die. And now when I read these stories, it all comes flooding back. I feel it again, and I cannot shake it.When anyone is around, I have to hold it in, ignore the pain and put on a brave face. But in those very rare moments of solitude, it is now starting to come out. And I’m afraid that once I start, I will not be able to stop. Yet I cannot look away, either. I have to read, I have to know something, anything, about these children’s stories. It is the least I can do for them.

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6 comments on “Indie Rose

  1. Mina
    May 19, 2014

    I feel the same, about cancer, about losing my child, the possibility of it happening to me, to one of my children, to us… And we did not go through what you have. But this fear is there, cold, scary, and always bloody there.
    I agree, it is the least we can do, to learn the stories of the children who have gone too soon.
    Hope you’re well.

    • boringyear
      May 19, 2014

      Having a child is probably the most frightening thing I have ever done. It really is like setting your heart free to walk around outside your body. And you can do next to nothing to protect it.

  2. pomegranate
    May 19, 2014

    I have a friend and former coworker whose son was diagnosed with an at/rt brain tumor at 11 months. She came back to work after his first round of treatment, and it was so hard for her to cope each time she heard of a baby with at/rt who passed away. Another friend told her to stop reading blogs about children with cancer, children who often didn’t win the battle.

    The mom of the child with cancer had a hard time explaining why she couldn’t stop reading those stories. The part I understood is that it becomes a community you belong to and you can’t betray that community of families and children. They become a part of you. You can’t protect yourself by looking away.

    • boringyear
      May 19, 2014

      Yes, exactly. Even though our story is short, uneventful and has a happy ending, I still feel the need to share it. So when others feel that same desire through whatever format, I have to honour their need to be heard.

  3. pajamamommas
    May 21, 2014

    Thinking of you. This parenting thing makes us so vulnerable. I think that a lot of how I cope with that vulnerability that is not thinking about the awful scary things that could happen–a kind of fingers-in-my-ears “I can’t hear you” sort of thing. But I imagine that is much harder to do when you come so close to the reality of a potential loss. And that loss of innocence/invulnerability is a loss too. So no wonder you are sad. I hope that you are able to find support from the community of parents whose kids have/had cancer as well. I’m sure you’re not alone in your feelings.

  4. cookie1986
    May 24, 2014

    Just because he’s here doesn’t mean you don’t need to grieve the loss of innocence and joy during the scary times. But he IS with you, and smetimes loving your kid so hard is enough to make the tears flow. YOu know?
    Big hugs.

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This entry was posted on May 19, 2014 by in cancer and tagged , , .
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