Contemplation

I started off this blog saying I was going to use it as a place to reflect on various aspects of my life. So far I haven't done a very good job. Today I might do a little better . . .

I've put a new picture up on this blog. It is of my youngest son, Nathan, and myself. I took this a couple days ago on my new Moto Q. I was just trying out the camera, and I know it came out a little overexposed on Nathan, but something about the light radiating from his face makes me love this picture.

Those of you who know me know how special Nathan is. For those of you who don't, I'll tell you. In January, 2002, shortly after his first birthday, Nathan was diagnosed with alveolar rhabdomyosarcoma, a very aggressive and very rare form of cancer. I can remember coming home from the hospital after that first stay and the feeling of surreality that surrounded that home that had once been "normal" and which now housed a baby who had an oncologist. I can remember sitting in a chair alone that evening after the kids were in bed, mouthing and saying the word . . . oncologist. The words Nathan and oncologist in the same sentence seemed so foreign and so wrong.

I'll not go into the details of the year of radiation and chemotherapy that followed. As a single mom, with two other young children, it was a life-changing experience. Today, Nathan is a happy and healthy 7-year-old boy. He is an extremely intelligent child, a delight, and my joy.

Why have I bothered to put this in my blog? I have to come to grips with the fact that this is and will always be such a large part of who I am. I suppose the people who encounter me frequently may get tired of hearing about Nathan. I think that I have a need to share some of his story as a way to keep it fresh in my mind, lest I begin to forget how precious Nathan, and life itself, is.

We all go through our lives so busy and so immersed in the things that we think make us happy. Don't forget to spend the best of your lives with the people who are actually capable of composing your happiness.