No One Properly Plans For This

When we got here Renee was ambassador. coaxing me out of my anxiety riddled shell. She was Emilie's mom and she was a few doors down and neighborly. I was shell shocked for sure, having my son tell The God of Death, "not today" no less than three times by then. Renee and keekee and Jeremy talked to me, on days when I sat vigil at his bedside Renee bought me food. I remember the first meal she passed that I ate. I remember being so grateful for it. Thinking for the first time that without her, I would not have eaten that day. It was late, ordering places are limited and money holds you back too. We the parents suffer. We suffer so much. And the hospitals are there for the kids. But there is an ill equipped minority that becomes the casualty of this situation and it is the parents. I am ambassador now. Being one of the families at the hospital the longest, I try to give back any way I can. sometimes it means smiling and faking a good mood when I don't want to. Giving random hugs to strangers coming out of a child's room in tears. Offering coffee from my personal coffee maker if and when I can. This anxiety, this angst - it is hard. You need people. While every room has a child with a story that is different from the next it is always the same: a sadness centered around children. We try our best to be there for them. An army of parents who love our kids and find it so hard to let them go. The married ones who struggle not to tear apart their marriage and remain strong. The broken couples who grow closer through this tragedy. The single ones who do it on their own. Giving up jobs and livelihoods because the mental strain of all this doesn't allow you to function. The hospital is for the kids and as a courtesy the cafeteria is open once or twice a day but it's not open all the time. Weekends it's fully closed. Food is limited so you scavenge ordering from the nearest places until your money runs out. You don't get paid staying in the hospital watching your kid. Kids grow and need things and how can you supply them?. These are the forgotten. The people who are not thought about. The story that is within the medical story. The people who will see a donated gift on Xmas from some generous soul when all year long they could have used the generosity of a hot meal, or a cup of coffee. You will be surprised how Something so little can bring comfort during the worst times. A pie of pizza delivered to the unit does wonders to lift the spirits of everyone. I know. I have done it. I have been blessed. In so many ways by so many people. I give back when I can and I thank God and you all for easing my burden at points when it was too much to bare. I and Jason have been blessed with love. I hope you all know how truly grateful I am.