I remember when I was diagnosed with AML, my first thought was, "If I die, my daughter will have never known me." She was 2 on the verge of turning 3. Who has memories from that age? I would be lucky if she had even one single memory of me. I had visions of her floundering through life with this big gaping hole in her life. A ship without a rudder. Cancer would rob my daughter of her mother. This thought frightened me to the core.
Those months away from her were tough. I knew I had to fight like hell to get well and get back to her. Her visits to the hospital were very few. Preschooler germs and neutropenia are not a good combination. Lots of Skype. But, even that was tough. Preschoolers just don't understand why you're not there. They can see you and hear you but you're not there with them. I knew I needed to find other ways to communicate with my daughter and keep our connection alive and strong. My husband would tell me everyday about funny little things my daughter would say. Wacky little things that only made sense in a preschooler's mind. I loved hearing what was she was saying. It made me laugh during long dismal hospital days. So, I decided to illustrate her wacky world. I sketched out the scenes from her mind and emailed them to my husband. He then printed them out and gave them to Audrey to color in. I love it, my husband loved it, my nurses and doctors loved it, but, most of all, Audrey loved it. It was a my way of staying close to my daughter when this horrible disease kept up apart.
I am lucky to be a mom.
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