I can’t help but cry when I have you alone, not in front of Lauren, but when its just you and I. I think of all that you have been through and all that we are going to ask of you at just 22 months of age…I think of having to carry you into the hospital and part of me thinks that I can’t do it, what I really want is to run in the other direction. To walk you through those doors means that all the praying and wishing that I have done for the last several years of my life has not fixed this…this is our option, this is our Hail Mary.
For every surgery I have been the last thing you see as the mask gets put on and I have been the first one to hold you when you woke up and this time I will be laying there in some other bed with no comfort to give. I can’t help but feel weak when I know that I am going to have to hug you and Lauren that morning and know quite simply that there truly are no promises, although I would like to say that there are, I have learned that life can be that cruel at times.
Instead, my sweet babies, I will tell you of the promises that I will keep… I promise to love you and cherish you for all of my days. I promise to show you the world and to teach you to be kind to others. I promise to teach you courage and strength and curiosity, although you both do those so well already. I promise to push you into ambitious goals and stand behind you no matter what you face. I promise to teach you what love is, how strong and mighty it can be.
Someday, when you have children of your own, you will understand this fight in a different light. You never truly understand the love of a parent until you are one…you both have given me the greatest thing that life has to offer, a purpose other than self. Someday you will look back on this day and realize what an easy decision this was in the end to make – you and your sister already have my heart… this is just a kidney. May God be holding us close!