Since the beginning of our nonprofit, I’ve had several opportunities to share our story. I’m sure that I will continue to share. One particular part of our story that I’ve shared, is the reason why we are dedicated to promoting the importance of blood donation for those with sickle cell disease. A blood donation helped to save our son’s life.
It doesn’t matter how many times I tell this story.
No matter how many times I tell that part of our story, it leaves an ache in my heart. It gives me a sinking feeling in my stomach. Whenever I share the details of that time frame when he spent days in the PICU, I return there. I not only remember the fear, I feel it. I don’t just remember the helplessness, I feel it. I don’t just recall seeing the blood of a stranger slowly drip into my son’s lethargic body, I feel the nauseousness of that moment. As I tell this part of our story, I shake as I shook then. I cry as I cried then.
The tears are real. Every last one.
I cry as I am reminded of how I could have lost my son. I cry because it’s still so hard for me to share such intimate moments with total strangers. I cry because I’m grateful to God that I still have my son with me. I cry because this moment can happen again at any time. No matter how hard I try to keep him well, there are no guarantees. I cry real tears because our story needs to be told, it needs to be heard, it needs to be felt. I cry because there is no universal cure and my son still has sickle cell disease.
This is not a dramatization of a real story. This is our life.
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No one knows your story like you do. Share it.
Raising My Sickle Cell Warrior 