I write the happy things; yes, the happy things are good. I write about my mama struggles; I feel like there are a lot of them. But this story? The memories I try to keep track of and write about and document and picture-take? Well, this deserves to be told, because this is a part of our story; a part of your story; and it should be told too.
Hindsight is 20/20, right? Everything makes sense now; the coughing; the "colds" you could never shake; the it's just a virus diagnosis. I'm wondering how I could have missed it. I'm the mama, I should have known. I feel incredibly stupid, and guilty, and dumb, but really it's not how I feel, it's how you were feeling...for almost a year! You suffered; and for that my heart breaks in two. No mother wants their child to suffer.
I've said I'm sorry more times than I can count; and in my brain, I know it's not my fault.
Asthma.
Totally manageable; not the end of the world; lots of kids have it.
But, when you looked up at me, with those big tear-filled eyes and said the words so I really have it?; well, my eyes filled too.
You are a brave boy.
And, I'm proud of you.
And, we're adjusting. To maintenance inhalers, and rescue inhalers, and wheezing, and coughing, and follow-ups, and, and, and...
And, you're telling your story. This is just a little part of it...there will be so much more to tell because, you my dear son, are wonderful; intelligent; funny; a bright spot in everyone's day.
P.S. I love you to the farthest Star Wars galaxy and back.
The best part of Mondays...Stasha and her Listicles.
