Four years ago my life changed forever. It wasn't the joyful birth of my first baby. It was the horrifying news that came with him--that he was born with severe heart defects that would lead to a life of heart surgeries, extended hospital stays, multiple daily doses of a variety of foul-tasting medicines, and little-to-nothing that resembles a normal childhood. Sure we've had laughs and healthier times, but those seem to be sprinkled between the uncertainty and painful medical dramas.
This is the second year in a row that Preschooler in Chief has spent his birthday in the hospital following a heart operation. He's had five surgeries so far, two in the past two weeks. Yesterday's surgery was #5... 13 days ago was surgery #4. And we've reverted PIC back to the circulation he had after surgery #2. So basically, the last three surgeries, seven heart catheterizaitons, 193 x-rays and 68 days in the hospital (and counting) were all for nothing. It's so disheartening.
Anyway, we decided not to even mention that it's his birthday, and we've made that clear to the staff as well. No birthday talk allowed. You could argue that since he is alive, it is a reason to be happy on his birthday. And I'm so grateful that he is alive, but no kid should have to suffer the way he has suffered. There's nothing happy about that.