So Thankful

I just had a moment that I felt compelled to share.

Often, I think of the moms that have lost their children - be it to cancer, or some other equally awful nightmare. When I think of those moms, I think that the hardest part for me would be the lack of physical contact. I am tactile when it comes to my kids. I hug and kiss and cuddle a lot. I rub backs, and play with hair. Now that Matthew is bald, I rub his head. A lot.

Often, when I think of these poor moms, I think how sad it is that they can't hug their kids, and I think that I should hug my kids extra because I can. You hear that sometimes, you know. Really appreciate those hugs. Give them an extra.

Well, just now, I hugged Matthew, and it was a really good one. He cuddled right into me. And I smelled him, and the thought came to me that without medical intervention, that hug wouldn't have been possible by now.

The very fact that I can hug my little boy is a miracle. I am thankful every day for his life. I will be thankful every day for the rest of his life (which hopefully will be much longer than mine) that I have the ability to hug him.

I think cliches become cliche for a reason. People have said it so many times that it becomes overdone, but people say it so much because it's true!

So, give your kids an extra hug tonight, in honor of the moms who can't. Really, truly appreciate the feel of their solid little bodies. Smell their hair. Appreciate their vitality. Their warmth.

Remember how much you love them, despite all the distractions and drama that come with real life. I know parenting is not all sunshine and roses, and even when your kid has cancer, and you're so grateful for the ability to hug him, the reality is that you cannot possibly appreciate every moment with him. When you're trying to do something, and they are picking fights with everyone in the house (including you) because they're so bored and stir crazy from being home bound for six months, it's HARD to remember that you're supposed to appreciate every second. And the truth is, no one does. Some seconds, or minutes, or hours, or even days can be rough!

Mary Anne Radmacher said, "Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'"

That's one of my favorite quotes. And it's how I'm beginning to feel. Some of the days we've been through have been really hard. And the things that are supposed to get done don't get done. And that's frustrating because there are only so many hours in a day. All the regular life stuff that went on before the cancer is still there. Plus cancer. But when it doesn't work out like it's supposed to, we try again tomorrow.

In the meantime, I have really learned to appreciate the small but wonderful moments with my kids. Moments when my girls make me laugh. They're both really funny. Moments when I am struck by what a good person Alaina is turning out to be, and how proud I am of who she has become. I can't wait to see what kind of an adult she will be. I love the friendship we have developed over the last few years. Moments when I can listen to Allison's music and just let my heart feel joy. I am so proud of the initiative she has to take things into her own hands. I worry so much about her during these tumultuous Jr. High years, but she seems stronger every day, and I'm so proud of her for fighting to make her life better. Moments when Mikey's smile lights up the room, and his love for his baby brother is palpable. He tolerates so much. And moments when I can hug Matthew, who could have been gone by now. He teaches me new things all the time. He is such a wise child. After all, he's had more trials in his 4 years than I have in my whole life. And he still smiles and giggles through almost all of it. He is teaching me to be more resilient, for which I will be forever grateful.

I love my kids. I love hugging my kids. I don't care if it's cliche, I think we should all give them an extra hug tonight and appreciate the fact that they are there in our arms.