After you read this post or actually stop reading this post, go and hug your little ones and hold them tight, tell them you love them and appreciate every second of it because you don't know what tomorrow may bring.
The last 24 hours have been the hardest 24 hours of my life and I'm not saying that out of exaggeration or because I'm emotional drained, I am saying that because for the past 24 hours I have felt dead inside, I walked around and gone about things but everything just felt like it was moving, people were talking but I wasn't really hearing what they were saying, it didn't matter if it wasn't for sure, it didn't matter if we could fight it, it didn't matter about treatment and other recovery stories.
I was told in a one word answer that I might not get to watch my child grow up, that I will probably out live him, that I will have to watch him suffer time and time again, my life would be cut short because my heart might not have his life in full.
I can't even begin to describe the pain, how your heart just stops, how nothing else seems to matter and how you know, there is no way you could go on with life without that little being smiling at you in the morning.
All you can think of is his laugh, his smile, his bright eyes, how he holds your hand when he feels unsure, how he sticks out his belly to be tickled, how he dances to just about any beat, how his face lights up when he plays drums, how he smells, how he hugs his pillow when he sleeps, you just stop and realize he is your life and he is the only thing that matters and that you would give up everything just to save him from any harm.
I have never been so scared in my entire life and a day waiting to see a doctor has never gone so slowly.
I have never felt so helpless.
I have never prayed so hard.
I have never bargained with God to take me instead.
I have never felt so empty.
And I have never felt so happy when the doctor turned to say, he's in the clear.
We might still not know what's wrong but I can live with the unknown better than a reality of thinking I might not have him forever.