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You are never quite prepared for the unthinkable.
You get pregnant, like the few times before, and you don’t thnk about the possibility that something isn’t quite right. Your other children are healthy, developing normally and causing you to throw your hands in the air with frustration.
This was me back in 2002 when I found out I was pregnant with what would be my last child.
When my son received his diagnosis of urea cycle disorder at the age of 4, I couldn’t have imagined the years that followed. It’s like that bad dream you wish you’d never have. But it wasn’t a dream, living in medical crisis 24-hours a day. Always being on alert of another hyper-ammonia episode, always trying to ensure that anything that could stress him, is really prevented.
But we couldn’t remove or control the genetic disorder, no matter how hard we tried. Time moved on and we found ourselves traveling 45 minutes to the hospital first once a month, then once a week and then 2-3 times a week.
Always measuring his meds, his protein and wondering how we could improve the situation and avoid another hospitalization.
But no matter what we did, we couldn’t get it under control.
8 years ago we were faced with a really hard decision of moving forward with organ donation. In order for my son to survive, he needed a liver. And we made the only decision we could do, that felt right and go through with the plan of my son getting a new liver.
A new liver meant a chance at a life.
It’s been 5.5 years since his last (third) liver transplant.
And until this year, I was able to avoid having these conversations with him. Avoid them because I wasn’t sure what to say. How to explain that I watched him not breathe when he came off the ventilator. How to explain that he lost so much blood during his last transplant that his blood pressure dropped to the point of almost no return.
But I believe in truth and I believe he deserves to know everything that he can’t remember due to his medical induced coma and age.
He’s coming to the age of development where he wants to know things, all the things, including his own journey.
You know these conversations are coming, but you are never truly prepared. Like the moment you tell him he almost didn’t make it and you watch him take it all in.
“Hmm, scary”, he responded.
And with tears in my eyes, all I can think “Yes, kiddo. It sure as hell was.”
But it won’t stop here. He will continue to process the information, continue to ask questions until he can formulate a clear picture in his own head.
And I want him to know the reality of how lucky he is – we are – that he get’s to be here with us today.
Forging your own path is
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