I’m a medical mama.
I don’t work in the medical field. I’ve never even had an interest to!
Yet three times daily, I dose out medication, load up the syringe and feel a little piece of my heart break off each time I have to administer these meds to my sweet, confused boy.
Hudson was diagnosed at 3 weeks old with a rare genetic condition, congenital adrenal hyperplasia, that I’m sure y’all have read plenty about at this point because hey, this mama advocates 😂 This isn’t anything new!
Yet I still worry daily. We’re in this for life. Unless there’s some big medical breakthrough, (and trust me, these fingers stay crossed!) Hudson will take medication each morning, afternoon and night to allow his body to function like ours do.
We never leave the house without an emergency injection in case he gets sick or severely injured and his body is unable to cope with the stress.
I personally already stress about how kids will react when he’s in school and has to go to the nurse to take medication everyday or when he may have to stop and rest at recess a little more than they do.
Our days may look different than yours.
But as his mama, let me tell ya.
Just because his path looks a little different doesn’t mean he’s not like you.
Hudson is strong. He’s fearless. He’s all boy. He runs hard and plays harder. He’s a fan of loud music, drums, sidewalk chalk and coloring books.
He loves ice cream, baseball, and apple juice.
He’s happiest outside or in the water.
He’s a social butterfly. He’s loud, he’s goofy.
He’s stubborn, he’s opinionated.
He’s got spunk and energy and personality for days.
He gives the best neck hugs and late night cuddles.
He’ll shake your hand and blow you a kiss.
He’ll be your chill night movie buddy or race you across the backyard squealing with delight.
He. Is. Limitless.
You’d never look at him and think anything was wrong, that anything was different.
His illness is invisible.
I want to keep it that way.
People need to know about his condition, don’t get me wrong! I’m all for it. Awareness is the only way we can find new treatment methods. It’s the only way we can save lives.
But please, please. My mama heart is begging you.
Don’t treat my boy any different. Don’t handle him with kid gloves. Don’t pity him or say things like “I’m so sorry. That must be so hard.”
I know you mean well. And honestly? Sometimes, it IS hard!
But he can do it all. He can be whatever he wants to be. He can play sports. He can grow up and live on his own. He can have kids. He can travel the world.
He can change the world.
So, do we have to things a little differently? Do we have to take extra precautions or pack a bottle of pills alongside his bottle of juice?
Sure. But we also do everything you do. We have the same hopes and dreams any parent has for their child. We have the same worries, the same fears. The same joys, the same triumphs.
Teach your kids inclusion. Teach your kids tolerance. Teach your kids that we’re all in this together.
Now more than ever, that’s the message we need most.
In any circumstance, in any situation, hold true to that fact.
We’re all in this together. And we’re all gonna be ok.
He’s gonna be ok.
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