Maybe it sounds strange, but it’s easy to forget how sick Jackson truly is.
We’ve been inpatient now for over three months. Three months of tests, three months of blood draws, three months of scans. Three months of surgeries and ups and downs and ‘it could be worse’ and ‘it’s not good’ and ‘we’re so sorry’.
Three months of living out what we would have described before as a nightmare.
But, in a lot of ways, it’s been a lot like the first three months with any typical baby.
It’s been three months of joy. Three months of first smiles and second smiles and figuring out what actually makes him smile.
It’s been three months of worry. Worry of hitting milestones and missing milestones and wondering when he might catch up on those milestones. Three months of waving arms and wiggling toes and watching his legs kick so hard. Three months of cuddling and snuggling, even if it is only from the side of his hospital bed.
In a lot of ways, it’s been the best three months of our lives.
When you see Jackson, you’ll probably see a lot of scars and wires and tubes. A lot of bruises from his blood thinner and BandAids from where IVs went bad and had to be removed. But, if you’re me, you’ll see an adorable baby boy with a gummy smile and the best pout face one can muster. You’ll find a baby boy who loves the sound of the heart beat on the noise machine and to have his hand held at all times. You’ll see a little one with his dada’s toes and his mama’s face and what I swear to god will be red hair. Because, for me, it’s easy to forget the wires and the tubes and just see him.