Thank You For Letting Me Be Your mom.

I've looked at the pictures we took yesterday at Markus' last infusion a hundred times already. I've watched the video of him ringing the bell over and over, smiling one minute and crying the next.

I keep thinking about his dad, sisters, and brothers waiting in the hallway, each taking turns going back to sit with him during his last infusion.

 My heart.

The love.

It overwhelms me.

His favorite nurses and doctor, the ones who cared for him, connected with him, and truly saw him, surprised him by showing up for his bell ringing. That meant more than they'll probably ever know.

I've also been reflecting on the months Markus and I spent together every other week in that infusion room while his dad worked from the waiting room.

Mark always drove us because, let's be honest, neither Markus nor I wanted any part of driving in uptown. But the truth is, Mark wouldn't have missed a single appointment or infusion.

He may not have sat in the chair beside Markus because, let's be honest again, I wasn't giving that up. But he also knew I was the right one to be there. He knew that if something wasn't right, I'd speak up. I'd ask the questions. I'd advocate for our son.

Meanwhile, Mark quietly made sure we had everything we needed. He brought us food and anything else we needed, no questions asked. He simply showed up in all the ways he could.

Markus has thanked us a million times for being there with him during the hardest and scariest season of his life and honestly, one of the hardest seasons of all of our lives.

But I keep thanking him.

Thank you for letting me be your mom.

Thank you for letting me care for you.

I know it isn't easy being a young adult and suddenly needing your parents again, sometimes even for the most basic things.

One thing I've never believed is that a mom and son can't have a healthy relationship. I never bought into the idea that toddlers are destined to be "terrible twos" or "horrible threes." And while we're at it, I never believed women were created to submit to their husbands.

What I do believe is this...

If I'm willing to do my own healing, I have a much better chance of having healthy relationships with all of my kids. Each relationship looks different because each one of my kids is beautifully different.

When I think about these past months, I'm overwhelmed by who Markus has been throughout this journey. Strong. Honest. Vulnerable. Humble. Caring. Grateful.

It wasn't easy.

There were days he was terrified. Days he was overwhelmed, exhausted, worried, and stressed. And the journey isn't over. Those feelings are still very much there.

But as his mom, the hardest part was realizing there was so little I could actually do.

I couldn't take away his pain.

I couldn't take away his fear.

I still can't.

And I hate that.

But maybe that's been one of the greatest lessons this journey has taught me.

The most healing and comforting thing we can do for the people we love isn't always fixing their pain. Sometimes it's simply showing up. Sitting beside them. Walking through the fire with them so they never have to walk through it alone.

That kind of presence changes people.

It's certainly changed me.

I believe with everything in me in the power of inner healing.

Life is hard.

Relationships are hard.

But when we're willing to heal ourselves, we don't just heal ourselves. We help heal our families. We interrupt generational trauma. We create something healthier for the people who come after us.

 And little by little, we help heal our communities and maybe even our world.

Last night I looked around the table as this beautiful, growing family shared a meal together, and my heart was so full.

Years ago, Mark and I made a decision.

We decided that doing our own healing was worth it.

We wanted our children to inherit something different than what had been handed to us. We wanted to break cycles instead of passing them on.

Our family isn't perfect.

Our family isn't large.

But my God... it's beautiful.

Helping create a family where love is safe, healing is possible, and everyone belongs is the greatest accomplishment of my life.

Now I'm going offline to cry some more.

Some happy tears. Some sad tears.

Because that's life.

It can hold unbelievable joy and heartbreaking sadness at the exact same time.

And today I'm feeling every bit of both.

And I absolutely love and so grateful for the beautiful relationship I have with my son.