Raising Ryan

Last night I started writing my second book. It's going to be called Raising Ryan. As I opened the blank document in Microsoft Office, I didn't realize I was opening up partly suppressed emotions. I wrote an article on a website about Ryan's experience last year with the brain tumor. I wrote the article in October of 2014, just two months after Ryan was released from the hospital, so everything was still fresh in my mind. As I read through the details, (most of which I had forgotten) all I could do was cry. It's still unbelievable. I honestly cannot understand how I got through the most challenging time in my life.

I wrote this before knowing that the tumor would grow back, before the thirty radiation treatments. I wrote about the details of how Ryan looked in the hospital bed. I had forgotten about the breathing tube that was placed down his throat. When the breathing tube was in he couldn't speak. All he could do was cough this terrifying cough that would make his whole body move, almost like a seizure. I wrote about the two IV's and the catheter. I wrote about the haunting beeps that the machine made throughout the night before his emergency brain surgery, and how my heart stopped with every beep.

I hate to remember these things. It's the most painful and scary thing I've ever experienced. As we get closer to the next scan on September 30th, I can't help but be consumed with anxiety. I think about having to go through this over again. I think about what life would be like if my child has to go through this again. It's like what do you do? Of course you get through it, but the human spirit can only take so much. After writing a few pages in my new book, I floated in to Ryan's room. The weight of sadness made my soul heavy and I fell to my knees. I wept by his bedside. I do not want to go through this again. Most importantly, I don't want Ryan to have to go through this again.

I lie there, weeping, sobbing, and begging the Universe to keep the MRI scans clear for eternity.

My son is such a great little boy. He's smart, he's kind, he's handsome and playful. He deserves to live a long beautiful life with no more surgery, tumors, or radiation. He deserves to be healed. I feel like God can hear my cries. I don't feel like he would bless me the way he has, just to crush me. I don't feel like loving parents do that to their children. I am a child of God and I know He loves me.

I often relate this feeling with Ryan and I. I would never invest years of learning and education into Ryan, help him graduate high school, go on college tours, fill out college applications, get accepted into the school of his choice, drive him to the college and then tell him we can't afford to send him. I would not set my son up for success then let him down. I never said school would be easy though. He's still going to have to sacrifice fun in order to study. He's still going to have some tests to take that he may not pass at first. He may have some days where he is literally exhausted from a morning workout, then school, then tutoring, then basketball practice, then an evening workout with his dad. He's going to have to work hard and learn life lessons. But I would never set my son up for failure.

I honestly believe in my heart that God knows what I can and can't handle. I honestly know that he won't put anymore on me than I can handle. I'm not in control. I don't know what the future holds. I do know that God loves me and that His will is going to be done no matter what the outcome of the scan is. Of course only positive thoughts will remain in my mind. As far as I'm concerned the scans are clear forever. However, should that not be the case, God will still get the glory. Will I be upset, disappointed, stressed, sad, and confused? Yes. Will I curse God and die? No. I love the story of Job. Whatever God has planned, it will all work out for my good in the end. All we can do is enjoy the day.

I choose to wake up with a grateful attitude. I choose to minimize my complaints. I choose to be beautiful, to smile, and to continue walking in my purpose. I choose to let go and let God. Life is still good whether things go my way or not. Happiness is a choice. I'm going to have joy all the days of my life and so will Ryan. He;s going to run, play basketball, watch Space Jam fifty million times, and run the hills with his dad. All is well. Raising Ryan won't be difficult. It will be a beautiful journey. He will grow to be a healthy successful gentleman and I won't live to see his dying day.

No matter what life brings us, as long as we have it, we must live it. And live it happily.