February 15

Well last night the baby slept from 9:00pm until 5:00am.  Sleep training accomplished, I guess my work there is done. Ha - I will, of course, eat those words around 3:00am tonight, but for now we'll pretend it's true. Another restful day at home. I'm feeling better every day. Tomorrow we have baby Kai's 4-month doctor's appointment, including his second round of vaccinations.  I think tomorrow he may be feeling worse than I am, poor baby. Every day I am astounded by how much I love him. Every time I look at him, my love for him wells up and overflows into a joy that is almost painful. Yesterday, he was in his swing napping, and I was sitting on the couch stroking a little toy that he has - a little blue blanket with a stuffed bear's head and arms and on the blanket the words "my mommy thinks I'm amazing" are embroidered. And while I was sitting there, watching him sleep peacefully in his swing, I thought that there is a chance that he will never know how true those words are. If these treatments don't work (but of course they will, they will, they will), then Kai will never know how much I love him. He won't even remember me. All of this overflowing absolute love that I feel for him every second, all of the smiles and laughs that he gives me, all of the snuggles and kisses we share, everything that has become my world, he will not remember. And it is this thought that haunts me during the weaker times. It is this possibility that I cannot bear. As much as I can say over and over again that everything is going to work out perfectly and soon this will all be a distant memory, the thought that my sweet baby might grow up and live his whole life not knowing this amazing love that I feel for him, not knowing me at all, causes a pain that is so blinding that I cannot conceive that it could even be a possibility. I am not worried about the treatments not working for myself. I am terrified of them not working because I cannot, I will not, leave my son.  He deserves to know this love I have for him. He deserves to understand that he is the center of my world. He deserves a mother who loves him more than life itself.

Even though this is a week of healing and regaining strength, it is difficult to not be doing anything. I am anxious to start the second round of treatment - to continue fighting. And I am looking forward to the month of healing afterwards, although I imagine it will be incredibility difficult to wait that month to find out the results of the scans (to see if the IL-2 is working). For this to be behind us, we have to continue on, and I am impatient in the pause. My sweet Jeff keeps reminding me over and over that we are going to beat this. I tell myself every day how lucky I am to have so many possibilities. I think about Dr. Phan's and Dr. Schaub's hopefulness when they told us that my blood work looks favorable for the IL-2 and that my new cells appear to be growing. But some days aren't as bright as others, and today even cookies couldn't keep away my fears.

Today I am thankful for visits from Renee and Helen; the continued support, love, and yummy foods from our MMG family; the now four neighbors with melanoma support signs in their yards that scream "HOPE" every time I look out the window; all of the chores, errands, and help provided by Jeff's parents; the sun that will shine brightly tomorrow; and as always, my wonderful husband Jeff and my precious baby Kai. I will not leave you, little one, that is something that I cannot do.