Brothers, Baseball, and More

It always surprises me how a day can hold SO much. Thursday morning was beautiful - we read books, watched the rain and jumped in puddles. On the other hand, Thursday night was my hardest since diagnosis. I knew, when I heard about it then, that I would have to watch Hyrum break. I didn't know that I would have to watch Caleb break, too. 

Hyrum's medications and this overall emotional roller coaster have resulted in some aggression. Sometimes he gets angry, hits, yells... things he never used to do. Caleb (his 3-year-old brother) has been a recipient of it several times. Thursday night, Michael had inspired conversations with each of them individually, then helped them talk to each other about these excruciating 4 weeks. It was a real, raw, powerful moment when they expressed feelings and apologized to each other - even a hug (which are very rare from Hyrum these days.)

That night... a big cry for me. Caleb is at no fault here, but his best friend is suddenly distant and angry. Caleb is a genuine joy: incredibly full of feeling, energy and imagination, but also incredibly humble- apologizing and forgetting hard feelings instantly. He misses Hyrum. They're both doing the best they can. 

I took the necessary sad nap the next day. (Who knew grief was so physical?!) Thankfully, Friday also brought a blessed brotherly reprieve from the distance Hyrum has placed between himself and Caleb. Hyrum invited me and Caleb to radiation! We piled in the car and Caleb "Oohed" and "Aahed" at the Big O signs that designate the hospital, the favorite parking spot, the puzzle we've been working on in the lobby, and the toy closet. He even got to see the outdoor recess! Hyrum had enough energy for a quick trip to the science museum, and they wandered around happily spinning dials and playing games.

Saturday we played, cleaned, napped, etc. then had our big family event: a Dodgers baseball game! A friend gifted us the tickets, and it was more magical than we expected. It was Hyrum's first genuine smile all week! That night, he even let me lay down in bed with him. I watched him fall asleep, studying his face and his soft little body. A new peace settled in my soul.

I've had some time to mourn the loss of the boy Hyrum used to be. Because of his tumor, he will always be simultaneously more and less than he was before. Less energetic. More mature. Less physically coordinated. More artistic. One reason these weeks have been so jarring is that I keep looking for the boy Hyrum WAS instead of accepting him as he IS. The loss here is real - that former Hyrum left suddenly and it's pretty sad that I don't get to run foot races with him anymore. However, I'd rather not make things worse by refusing the self that he IS offering us. He's still here. He's still ours. There are still things we can do today.

As I've gotten to know this new version of Hyrum, my love for him has deepened. I've begun to discover what he needs from a mother in this phase of his life. What settled me was the feeling that I can love Hyrum as he is now. I can be the mother he needs now. The more I lean into today, the less longing I feel for the past. We still hurt. But we sure love our perfect little people exactly the way they are today.