Crocodile light

I've been trying for a week now to figure out what to write, so I'm just going to start at the beginning.

In early 2009 when we were about to start our family I spent a few weeks online searching for stories of other two mom families. I found a list of blogs, and read through a bunch of them. Then I was pregnant and still reading. I'd bounce around from blog to blog, reading about these much longed for pregnancies and babies. I remember very clearly one blog where they just found out they were expecting a boy. They had a fun nickname (BG) for him, and I would check out their blog periodically. He was born in September of 2009, soon after we found out we were expecting a baby girl. I remember reading his very long inspiring birth story. I remember reading about how much they loved him and were marveling in his amazingness. I remember the photos of their adorable baby next to a stuffed crocodile, taken each month to track his growth. I was so excited to meet our own baby, I wanted my blog to be filled with similar posts and photos.

And then my life was so busy marveling at my own baby's amazingness that I wasn't reading all the blogs I used to read any more. I was preoccupied with finding my way as a mom and trying to keep my own blog updated. I pretty much lost contact with all the blogs I used to read daily while I was pregnant. Very occasionally I'd check to see what people were up to, but mostly I was only up to date with whatever was posted on facebook. When a bunch of the same moms who's blogs I'd read and was in a TTC group with made a LGBT parents facebook group, I joined and had an easier time checking in with the goings on of other similar families.

Fast forward to this past Fall. In August of 2012 I heard the awful news that BG had been diagnosed with Leukemia. It came out of nowhere, like is so often the case I suppose. He was healthy and happy and enjoying his first days of preschool. And then in the next post his mom was updating the blog from the oncology wing at the hospital, sharing the terrible turn of events.

Oh, my heart ached for them. What a scary road. I followed along closer now, waiting to hear good news. They found a bone marrow match! He was able to go home for a bit! I wanted to have a lemonade stand and send them the donations. A fundraiser had been set up to raise money for the family with t-shirts, lovingly made with a crocodile on them and the phrase "taking a chomp out of leukemia" I fully intended to buy one, I wanted Makena and I to wear it proudly in support, but of course the timing never seemed right to buy them and then before I knew it, it was too late. I read with tears in my eyes that he relapsed. I would read these updates as we drove to work in the mornings, and Pam would often ask me not to talk about it because it was just too sad to comprehend. She's the quiet inwardly processing type. I know that about her, and I try to respect that even when it drives me batty. But I needed to talk about it, I need to talk and write and read to process things. I need connections with others to know I'm not alone in feeling the big range of emotions in life.

So when I saw the completely devastating update on facebook on 2/5/13 that they lost their sweet sweet boy that morning, I turned to Pam and said that I knew she didn't want to know, but the boy with leukemia lost his battle.

Lost.

Just like that the world lost a light. And it doesn't matter that he'd been sick, it was still a shock and still so so so unbelievably unfair. Along with everyone else, I didn't expect this. I knew it wasn't fair that any child has to spend months in a hospital bed, to endure endless tests and medications. But I assumed it would be okay in the end, that he'd overcome his health struggles. That he'd continue to shine his light. That his moms would overcome their worry and stress and heartache.

And then to hear that his time on earth was over, that his moms lives would never be the same... it just ripped my heart to pieces. Then came the horrifying realization that this isn't an isolated case. There are parents everywhere who have lost their babies. It happens every single day. The pain this world carries, it's surprising that we can stay floating in space. The overwhelmingly heavy sadness of it all pulled me down deep into my core where I couldn't help but imagine the terrible What Ifs.

It could have been my child. He could have been my long awaited and wished for baby. His could have been the same sonogram photos I posted on my blog. The same birth story. And it could have been Pam and I as the grieving mothers that nobody knew what to say to. It still can be. Life is so precious and I know that at any moment our lives could be changed forever by the worst possible.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about his moms. Every day I think of them. I can't imagine what it takes to go on each day. I don't know how you get out of bed the morning after you realize you'll never hold your child again.

I lit a candle that day and when Makena asked why, (since we never light candles other than for birthday cakes) I told her that the world needed a little more light. Then I turned away before she could ask why I was crying.

This is for you, little crocodile boy who I never got the pleasure of meeting. This is for your bright eyes and charming smile. This is for the genius in you that didn't get the chance to reach it's full potential, but would have no doubt changed this world for the better. This is for your moms, who are on a path no parent should ever have to walk.

Then, a completely unrelated different facebook page I follow (The Progressive Parent) posted on Friday that she just heard the sad news that a local little boy in her community lost his battle with leukemia that week. I was touched that his story reached another page I belonged to.

And then I was devastated all over again when her very next post the next morning said that her sweet 15 month old passed away in his sleep overnight. Suddenly she went from talking about her heart going out to BG's mothers, and then her own heart was ripped from her.

My heart is so heavy with sorrow that I've been on the verge of tears whenever I think of both little boys. Two little boys in the same community, not too far from where we live, taken way too early away from those who loved them most. It's just cruel. It's wrong and horrible and every parents worst nightmare. And for the heartbroken parents that are forced to live that life, I can only offer my deepest condolences.

I can offer that, and also swear to hold my child closer and never take a single breath for granted. In the toughest of parenting moments, I will remember the crocodile that kept chomping away but was dealt more than he could swallow. I will remember the nursling who had just learned how to walk and then just didn't wake up one morning.

I will remember that sometimes the worst things ever happen, and that even my hardest darkest moments are nothing compared to the pain of losing a child.

And I will try my hardest to never forget that, while still loving deeply and living fully in my own life. The gift I can give is that of spreading more light in the world.

There's been talk in the LGBT parents facebook group of us chipping in to sponsor a zoo bench or plant a tree in the crocs honor. I hope that whatever is decided can give his mothers comfort and help them feel support in this tremendously difficult new chapter of their lives.