graduation-dedicated to Jeffrey, Rick and Steph

So, I took my kids out for a picnic dinner by the river in a VERY secluded spot tonight. We played cards, I snapped some pictures and I got to thinking. Not necessarily my best course of action. I have a 14 year old and on tues he graduates from middle school and moves into the dreaded high school. I am nervous and scared and I sit on tenterhooks wondering if he is going to make it.

Let me tell you a little about my son. Last March, 14 years ago, he was born to a very naive 20 year old. He was my pride and joy and he was a beautiful baby. I remember the grueling 11 hours of labour, the 45 minutes of pushing and snapping at his dad when I wanted my nurse and his dad refused to get her. Despite what I thought was a grueling labour everything went well wiht no complications and mom and baby were fine.

I remember not letting him go to sleep in the nursery, rather I held my baby and he slept with me and I nursed my baby. I remember teh excitement of taking my beautiful son home. I woke that morning full of exciting anticipation. Yet I woke to horror untold, one of my journeys into hell.

In order to properly understand this, I urge you, before you read on, try and remember what you were doing when you were 20, trying and remember where your head was at.

I woke that morning, it was a sunny morning. I looked at my beautiful son and knew something was wrong. On the crown of his head, were boils, seeping a puss that was the colour of mustard, I was covered in it, he was convered in it and our bedding was covered in it. I immediately called the nurse and she came in adn took a look and my son and took him away. They got my doctor on the phone immediately and he rushed down to the hospital, His dad comes in with a huge smile, we were going to bring our baby home and I was left to tell him "We aren't going home" but that's all I could say because no one knew anything. My GP finally came in to see me, without my son. They have put him in the special care nursery because he is now a very sick little boy. BUT............we don't get to be with the other babies, we are terribly ill and no one, not my GP, not one nurse in the hospital and not two of the best pediatricians, know what is wrong with my son. Because they don't know what's wrong with him, they don't know what to tell me, and they don't know what to do. Not only that NO ONE could tell me if my beautiful baby would even LIVE!!!! And so I hustled it down to the isolation room. I needed to be wiht my son, for it might be the last few hours I spend with him and he needed to know that he was loved and that he was loved passionately and desperately. He needed to know that he was a gift and joy and I was going to pour into him as much as I humanly could in the what might very possibly be remaining minutes I had with him.

Then they kicked me out of his room. They were going to do a spinal tap for the dreaded M word---Meningitis. While they did that, they did a full medical work up on him, although he had passed all his baby tests with flying colors. I feel compelled to remind you at this point, I am 20 years old. So after all their tests, which to me was time away from my baby who might die any minute, they let me back in, to kick me out again as they realize the first spinal tap didn't take and now they have to do a second. I was loathe to leave. I needed to be by my baby. He needed his Mommy and i may only have those remaining few minutes with him, no one could tell me otherwise, they didnt know why he was so very very sick.

And so began our course of meds. Seven antibiotics through his system four times a day per med. Round the call meds at this point. And the heart monitors and my midnight watches. And on top of this they made me leave with no guarantee, my son would be alive the next morning when I got there. I would not leave til 1 or 2 am and i did wahtever I could to make them let me stay. But they refused me. But I was back around 5 in the morning and they didn't like that but what the hell did they expect? No one could tell me my son woudl live.

Next came the photographer. He carried with him a camera I had never seen before. It had a ring flash. He asked me to hold Jeffrey against my chest with his face in my chest and he proceeded to focus the camera. Once this was done, he asked me to look away for the flash woudl blind me. And he took many pictures of Jeffrey's head.

Also at this time, was my nursing insanity. Any moment that I was not holding Jeffrey or nursing Jeffrey, i was pumping milk for him, for he was not goign to have formula, He needed breast milk to aid in fighting whatever it was that he had, I had so much milk stored for my bud that we didnt use it all but i was NOT going to allow him to have formula if I could help it. I think the nurses thought I was insane but I knew I needed to give him every chance of survival I could. I was not going to let him die if I could help it.

Jeffrey was admitted to the NICU on a thursday. Days passed, still no word. Friday came and went, sat and sun came and went and still nothing. They have not ruled anything out and they do not know anything more than they did before. Monday came and went....nada. Tuesday dawned and we have news....its not meningitis. And here's the kicker. Jeffrey was so very sick because of me. Unbeknownst to anyone, I carried the strep/staff infection in my birth canal and during Jeffrey's 45 minutes of sitting there, he got sick. I made my child so very very sick. This was my fault. The weight of that crushed me. I did this. What the hell kind of mother am I going to be, I DID IT!

But now we know, now we can treat. On Thursday, one week after he was supposed to go home, I took my son home, overjoyed and yet laden with guilt. Jeffrey was since written up in the medical books and as a result all women now get tested in the third trimester of pregnancy to see if htey are carriers. If they are, they get a shot of antibiotics and then IV antibiotics during labour and delivery.

My son became healthy and was a joy to everyone whereever we go, He was a charismatic little soul that attracted everyone whereever he went. But I wouldnt let him out my sight. I nearly lost him once it was not goign to happen again. Where he went, I went. Where I went, he went.

Then I had Missy and Jeffrey turned, He was four when he became a different child, I fought for him and always will. I fight the hardest for this one. Why? Because I will not let him suffer anymore. He nearly died, and upon that time, an instinct kicked in me to fight for all i am worth for this one. It is something that I still do. And I don't see that ever changing......EVER! So that boy has undergone many things, two years of being bullied, a loss of his stability of family, witnessing the abuse of his brother, the antagonism of his father to his mother, bullying from his father and the dismissal of his faith from his father, so so many things that a child should never be put through. And I lost my son. I lost that beautiful beautiful child who brought joy whereever he went.

I entereed graduate school and stumbled upon a new therapy. And I put Jeffrey in it, three times so far. And now I owe so much to one of the founders, Rick Bradshaw. I also owe so much to his therapist, Steph Moyen, Jeffrey has been to this therapy three times. THREE TIMES!!!! As a result, I have my son back. The beautiful, joyous happy boy who attracted people to himself is re-emerging. My long lost son is back!!!!

And so Jeffrey, as you graduate, I want to tell you this. I am so so very proud of you. I love you dearly and there is nothing on the face fo heaven or earth that I would not do for you my beautiful boy turning man. I will fight hell for you dear dear Jeffrey. You are the best hting that happened to me, and I cannot begin to find the words to tell you just how much I love you, just how much I want nothing but good for you and just how much I am proud of you. You are here, you are alive and you are the most precious gift that God saw fit to give me. I would give up everything and anything for you my son. YOu have done your mother so so proud. You have been handed a hell of a life and you have walked it the best that you can and as you continue to walk it, you shall become a strong strong man of great character. Satan will curse in the morning for you are getting out of bed and you will be a force to be reckoned with. In all the gentleness of your heart and spirit, satan has underestimated his match.

I bless you dear son, and i congradulate you for a job well done. I pray that you have an ever seeking heart for the one who loves you more than I, Jesus.

And know this my beloved.....there is nothing in heaven, in hell or on earth taht could make me stop fighting for you or make me stop loving you, for you my precious son are worth every drop of my blood that may spill and every stream of tears that trials down my cheeks, I could not ask for a better son and I could nto be more proud of you than I am.

Thank you Jeffrey.

PS-Thank you Rick and thank you Steph..........you gave me the gift of my son.........