I have had exactly two pregnancies, and I have exactly two
children who are four and one-and-a-half years old. I’ve never experienced a
miscarriage or the loss of a child. I am one of the fortunate ones.
My cousin, Jason, and his tiara-deserving wife, Amanda, have
five children. All boys. Yes, FIVE adorable, jubilant, loving boys. Can you
imagine? I only have two boys, and the levels of noise, dirt, fart jokes,
bug-fascination, and truck-obsession can be too much for me sometimes. I can’t imagine
60% more boys in my house. I’m sure it’s fun, hilarious, rewarding… and
exhausting. They are an amazing family.
A couple weeks ago, the unimaginable happened. Jason and Amanda
lost their youngest son, Baby Drew, to cancer.
When he was not quite a year old, Drew was diagnosed with Clear
Cell Sarcoma of the Kidney. For the last year and a half, Drew fought hard. The
family thought he beat cancer, realized he hadn’t, thought he beat it again… over
and over. Until Drew’s little body stopped responding to the chemo. Until there
was nothing left to do but pray over their two-year-old baby as his beautiful
soul went on to a better place.
My heart breaks.
As parents who have not lost a child, we say we cannot
imagine how painful that must be. Except that we can. We’ve done nothing but
imagine that pain since the day we found out we were pregnant with our first
born. I’ve even had nightmares about it. We’re parents. We know. (This insightful article beautifully describes the bond of
motherhood and how to comfort another parent who has suffered the loss of a
child.)
What I can’t imagine is how life goes on after your child
dies. After comforting and caring for a sick baby for so long, what does the
new normal look like when he’s gone?
I can’t imagine having to prepare your other small children
for their sibling’s death. Drew’s four older brothers loved him so much and
even shaved their heads when Drew’s hair fell out.
I can’t imagine then having to explain his death to your
surviving children. When your heart
couldn’t possibly break anymore, how can you bear to watch your children
grieve?
Because of all of these unimaginable heartaches, we desire
to help families who have suffered a loss, but we don’t always know how. Baby
Drew’s family lives in another state, so I couldn’t go help them. I thought
about getting them a laundry or meal service, but many parents find comfort in
the familiar and much-needed distraction in the everyday tasks of caring for
their family.
So I decided to contribute to their Go Fund Me campaign. As Jason
and Amanda grieve the loss of Baby Drew and attempt to adjust to life without
him, they also have to deal with the medical debt not covered by their
insurance. It just doesn’t seem right.
And it doesn’t seem right that a child should die of
anything, especially cancer. We know cancer results from cell mutation. Since
children haven’t been alive long enough to be exposed to all the toxins that
cause cancer in adults, their cell mutations are often genetic. My Hubs works
for a company* that designs instruments that researchers can use to find genetic
markers in children with cancer. They also use these machines to test drugs and
treatments to eradicate cancer cells. If they can figure out what causes childhood
cancer, they have a better chance of curing it and preventing it. Hubs has to
work long hours and travel a lot, but I’m so proud of him and what the company
is trying to accomplish. It gives me hope. (You can learn more in the very
short video below.)
Since Drew’s diagnosis, I’ve been inspired to support
childhood cancer research. With “give” being my theme word this year, I started
looking into various charities. So in addition to giving to Baby Drew’s
Go Fund Me campaign, my family will support St. Jude Children’s Hospital,**
even if we can only afford a small contribution. I was also thinking about
volunteering in the pediatric oncology ward at Lucile Packard at Stanford. Maybe I can read to or play with the children there. And if Quinn is
old enough, maybe I can take him with me.
As Reid, my twenty-month-old son, fell asleep on my shoulder
in the rocking chair tonight, I breathed him in and cried for Baby Drew. If
your heart feels heavy too, please give your kiddos an extra big snuggle today
and consider supporting childhood cancer as well.
*My Hubs’ company did
not sponsor this post, nor am I trying to sell you any of their products.
Unless you have a cool half-mill lying around and you want to dabble in cancer
research because you’re that rich and that bored, then by all means, go
bananas.
**This post is also
not sponsored by St. Jude Children’s Hospital or Stanford Hospital or any
charitable organization. I’m simply inspired to give and
hope that you are as well.
