hey, medical mama

Hey, medical mama.

Your sense of motherhood is unique. The title you wear is hard earned. Your child has endured testing, medication, medical interventions and endless unanswered questions. YOU have endured testing, medication, medical interventions and unanswered questions. What is done to your child is done to you by proxy. What your sweet son or daughter has experienced physically, you have experienced mentally and emotionally. You've cried endless tears and torn through countless cups of coffee while researching, learning and absorbing each facet of your child's diagnosis. You are armed with knowledge and fueled by advocacy.

At this point, you know more about your child's condition than you do about yourself.

Medical mamas know pain. They know sorrow. They know overbearing hurt, maybe even needless guilt. They know the fear of the unknown, the anxious worries of the future. They know the dreary lights of the doctor's office, maybe the hustle and bustle of the hospital room. They know the endless paperwork, the confusion from other parents, the kind that don't have to pack extra meds in their child's overnight bag or explain to their children why they can't do something all of their friends are allowed to do. "But mommy, if they can do it, why can't I?"

They know envy. They know doubt.

Being a medical mama is being okay with administering medication or injections, becoming comfortable with things you never imagined having to learn. In a way, you've become a nurse with no training, even no interest in the field. You bear a heavy burden and carry a heavy load. You are your child's best defender, organizing endless appointments and prescriptions, watching as your child endures another poke, another prod. Strangers have studied your child and peppered you with questions. You've fallen asleep on a hard plastic couch, the beeping of machines in place of counting sheep, or you've curled up in the well-worn chair of a hospital waiting room, the sound of footsteps nearby jarring you from your precious, futile sleep.

But you've also known the joy of watching your child thrive, the wonder of your son or daughter's strength.

You have a deepened bond with your child. You know the meaning of boundless love in the truest sense of the word. You never take a single day for granted, reveling in the feeling of watching your kid meet a new milestone, exceed another expectation. You take pride in your child's fearlessness, feel your heart swell with respect and admiration of their bravery and courage.

You sit in awe of them as they move forward and push onward. And mama, you have made them this way.

You've loved them through every trial, held them through each moment of weakness. You've poured your soul into theirs to give them the strength they need to succeed and soar. You've fought each battle alongside them, worn your armor with defiance and pride. 

I am so amazed by you, medical mama. You will never know another love like this. God only leads his strongest soldiers into battle.

Keep up the fight. You are a force of nature. You are the calm in the eye of the storm. You are the tallest tree in the forest, the sturdiest roots in the ground. Allow your child to blossom and mama, watch as they grow and bloom.

You can do this. They can do this. We can do this. We are in this together. I see you. You are seen and you are selfless. You are one strong, fearless woman. You were made for this, mama. You are going to be okay.

The day Hudson was released after one looong, restless week at the hospital. Shout out to Starbucks and sugar for fueling this mama through. That smile was totally worth it!

-Kaley