Introducing Koko

Dare I say it?  Life has started to become somewhat ‘normal’ once again.  Or at least what I picture the next five months to be like.

The days have mostly been sunny and warm and so we have ventured outside, relishing in the fresh air.  And it’s like he knows how good it is to get outside – he talks and moves the whole time.  He responds to the sounds of the seagulls and the crashing of the waves.  He loves the feel of the sun hitting his face – and really, who could blame him!  

 

We started being brave with visits and somehow instincts told us that we were ok to be doing this – that he was ok.  The new blood and platelets had done their job and our sick little man could enjoy a couple of weeks of feeling like he should again.

But it’s always on the back of our minds.  If he grumbles for too long or can’t be settled by a hug, the thermometer comes out.  If I've over dressed him and he feels warmish, the thermometer comes out.    We look at each other and silently question ‘are we doing the right thing?’  And then, he’ll snap out of his tantrum, smile at us and pretend that everything is as it should be  - and they say that tantrums don’t start until the age of two....

The specific chemo he is on is strong, so strong that they are going to maximise the time between cycles, so that his body has every chance to recoup.  So strong, that one of the potential risks we took in allowing this one to be used, is that secondary cancer can develop – most likely leukaemia.  I look at where we are now and wonder if we could cope with that.  Would we be strong enough to cope with that and did we make the right choice in trying to preserve his hearing.

 

But then I read him a story, and there is a snake in it.  When I make the hissing ‘s’ sound, his little eyes light up and he smiles – every time I do it.  And I know we made the right choice and that just like the past 14 months, we will get through whatever challenge comes our way.

And upcoming challenges we will have.  Our little man is going to be a big brother.  After quite a few months of trying to fall pregnant again, we finally had success.  What a happy morning that was when I looked at the stick and saw the two lines.  I couldn’t wait to tell my husband.  But then reality came crashing back down.  The very same morning, Dexter had his first liver ultrasound and the technician uttered the words “there is a mass that needs treating”.

What ensued was eight weeks of continual worry.  Every pain, every cramp, everything was felt and worried over.  I was continually questioning whether I had lost the baby or whether I would be able to hold on to it until the ‘safe’ time.  So we made the decision to share the news with family.  They needed happy news too and at the same time, we needed people to turn to if what I dreaded most, happened.

But it held on and we have seen it and I'm now 13 and a half weeks along.  The bump is showing faster than last time – a combination of bad diet, lack of exercise and not trying to hold it in anymore!  Everyone has something happy to look forward to now.

And yet I'm petrified.  Will this one be a term baby; will it be healthy?  Will Dexter respond to it when it’s born or will he not even register?  Will he ever be able to see it and play with it?  Will I have the energy to cope with a new born and a child who is completely dependent on me?  Will I have the time to focus on both their developmental needs?  Have we made the right choice?

Apart from the term, healthy and vision aspects, all the rest can be answered with a determined ‘yes’.  Because despite how scared I am – I want this.  I want this because it’s what we always talked about, so just because we are faced with different challenges, why should we have to compromise on what we want.  I know it’s going to be hard, but in our own way, we will survive.

Dexter had the nickname Snofrid, mainly just to stir my husband.  This one is Koko – a Finnish word that translates to ‘entire’.  This one needs to be a term baby, it needs to stay there for the entire time.