The Question

    Dear son,

     I cannot plan your first birthday party. Pinterest is ready and waiting with themes and gift ideas and decorations. My sister in law has sent me coupons for paper plates and banners, but I can't look at them. I sometimes wonder what the cake flavour might be - the first cake you will taste - but I stop short of imagining the options.

     I cannot prepare for your first Christmas. You will need a stocking to hang, but I don't think about what it might look like or be stuffed with. This December will be filled with crafts, but  I am not selecting the most promising ones from the Internet. I am not getting excited about family cards or photos with Santa.

     Even Halloween, a few short months away, is beyond my ability to fathom. Last week, I thought about what costume I would ask your grandmother to make you. But now those thoughts are tucked away. The costumes are out already at Costco. People debate whether it's too early to purchase Halloween merchandise. No debate here. It's too soon.

     I can't fantasize about these happy occasions because of the looming question : will you be here with us? I know that your chances of survival are excellent. I know I must stay positive. I know that well meaning friends will tell me not to think this way. But the question hangs around me like smoke. When I try look forward, it blurs my vision and stings my eyes with tears. I can't plan a life when I don't know if you will be here. I just can't.

     I am living in the moment, not because I want to, but because it's all that I can handle right now. The future is too difficult. I am trying to squeeze out all of the love in our days together. That is why I take every opportunity to kiss you, dear son. That is why I try so damn hard to convince you to kiss me back. It is why I find excuses to hold you; I tell our family you need me, but really I am the one who needs you.

    But I do imagine being reunited with you after the operation. You will probably be sleepy from the medicine. You won't smile. But I imagine that you will Be. And despite the wires and tubes and machines and fluids, we will be together. It's as far ahead as I can plan, but it's just far enough to keep a smile on my face today, in this moment.