Too Cute Tuesday

Two years ago...

(Photo by Still Moments By Leign Ann)

Too Cute Tuesday (on Wednesday)

Whew, we have been busy.  So I missed two Too Cute Tuesdays!

We have made a lot of changes in the last two weeks.

• The first, we put our house on the market to sell.  Which meant painting, stripping wall paper, cleaning, organizing, landscaping and more.  We got it all done just in time to....
• Leave for the first vacation we've had in years.  We went with my parents and brother's family to a lake house and had a fabulous time boating, sailing, kayaking, hot tubbing, and eating homemade ice cream.  We returned, just in time for me...
• To return to work.  Part time.  At the company I worked for before Collin's diagnosis.  I have some completely new responsibilities and am looking forward to the challenge and glad to be back.

So that's what is new.

Now here's what is cute:

Autumn

I have always loved the fall season.  Fresh air.  A fresh start.  But for me right now, the fall season is a reminder of pain.  Two years ago, we were so happy.  A new, precious healthy baby boy.  We were looking forward to his first holidays.  His first Thanksgiving.  His first Christmas.  But there was a train wreck coming and our precious boy would be diagnosed with an awful cancer just days before his first Thanksgiving and would spend every other major holiday in his life in the hospital.  As we approach the fall, I wish I could prevent the disaster that was coming two years ago.  I wish I could warn myself.  Watch out!  Something horrible is going to happen.

But I can do nothing but watch it approach in my memory.

Last year at this time, we thought we had been through the worst and were on the road to healing.  Collin had his transplant in the spring, endured horrible complications and refractory graft-vs-host disease that we struggled to get under control.  He was hospitalized for all but one week from April 28th through early August.  We endured some very, very difficult days.  But things were looking up in the fall.  He was home in our apartment.  He was happy.  He was running and playing and eating.  And we didn't know that another train wreck was ahead.  We didn't know that Collin would have to endure unimaginable suffering, day after day, week after week that would bring him slowly and painfully to the point of death.  And I never knew that eventually I would be brought to the point where I would look to his death as a relief from his unbearable suffering.  Because it was unbearable.

But we didn't stop fighting for him.  And instead, healing brought relief to his suffering.

And we were so thankful for that miraculous healing.  So thankful.

But we we lost him, unexpectedly, just when we thought we might be able to bring him home.

And I just don't understand it.  I don't understand it at all.
I don't understand it.



And I miss my monkey.

I know You never turned your head...

Losing Collin was...unexpected.  Shocking.  Devastating.

We knew, as well as anyone, that he was fragile.  We took every precaution we could think of to protect him.  We spared no effort, no words, no possibilities to protect our child.  For nearly 18 months, we were afraid.  Afraid of exactly what did happen.

The month of December in 2009 was hell.  Every single day Collin got sicker, despite our best efforts to help him.  Despite the doctor's vast knowledge.  Despite every standard and almost every experimental treatment - Collin just got sicker.  Until his suffering became unbearable.  Truly unbearable.

And at that time, he was sedated.  Intubated and placed on a ventilator.  Because his suffering had become too much.  Unbearable.  We spoke with the doctor and he told us that he had done all he knew to do.  That Collin's prognosis was grim.  That we should not try to prolong his life with extraordinary measures.  And we agreed.  His suffering had been too much.  But we decided to try one last aggressive treatment and that treatment worked.  Collin got better.  It was very hard, but Collin got better.

We had some wonderful days.  Truly wonderful days with our sweet boy.

We were talking about finally coming home with him.  We believed he would be fully healed.

And then we lost him.  Unexpectedly.  It was shocking.  Devastating.  Heart breaking.

And sometimes it seems that in that moment, God turned his head.  And our precious fragile boy was lost.

But I know You never turned your head.  I know You had to be right there.


I have been blessed recently to come into contact with another mama.  A mama who was in the same ICU with her daughter on the day that Collin died.  And in the frantic minutes while the doctors tried to restart Collin's heart - this mama and another were praying for us.  And asked many others to pray for us.  To pray for a little boy who's heart had stopped.  And for his family.

I am thankful that God has connected us.  And I am thankful that God's people were praying for us in the moment of our deepest need.  And I am thankful that God does not turn away when we need him most.  I know He had to be right there.  I know He never turned his head.

Please continue to pray for us. We miss our son.  And please pray for this other mama, Lorraine, and her whole family - their little girl, Chrissie, went to Heaven to be with Jesus one week after Collin.

Too cute Tuesday

Playing in the apartment - Fall 2009

Hi Mama

I'm kinda busy right now.

You see...

There's farming to be done

Oops!

There, I fixed it.

All this farming makes me kind of tired.

But I'm not ready to go to bed

I'm kinda busy right now.