This transplant wasn’t for purely selfish reasons. Much of my fight is because I could not bear the thought of giving up on my dad, Shelby, Kristina, my mom. Their faces are what float through my mind as I’m pushing myself through the challenges presented. If you know me well, you know I’m an unashamed mama’s boy. I love her like crazy. My mom is this amazing, pure woman who blesses all she meets.
Something that stuck with me a couple months ago, was when I was talking with my dad about how tough she is and he said that the rare times she cries, it’s at night about me and my situation. That broke my heart. Then a while later, I watched a home video where she was talking to Baby Bradley and telling him they weren’t too sure what was wrong with me, as I was failing to gain weight and constantly crying (it took a few months to diagnose me with CF). Another big moment, was when child protective services got called on my parents because it was believed they were starving me (see last sentence). Or the time my mom was in college and her biology professor was talking about how people with cystic fibrosis weren’t expected to live beyond childhood. My mom was younger than me when all this was happening. Just imagine the pain of enduring all that. And she already had my sister to take care of while my dad was out in the field for his job—which didn’t pay much.
My mom is a warrior.
I want, more than ever before, to have her know that things are better than alright. That the fears she has been burdened with have all been resolved by God, whom she has been faithful to throughout these many years of suffering. I wish I could hug my mom when she was my age, and let her know the future—while it will have struggles—will be incredibly bright.
Thank you, mom, for putting up with my stink attitude, for making those thousands of tedious phone calls, for sorting out my paperwork, for sleeping over at my hospital stays, for praying over me at night while I fought for my life, for raising me to respect women, for cooking me so many delicious meals, for sometimes laughing at my jokes, for beaming when I’m successful, for filling the house with your singing, for telling me your childhood stories, for being a Christian role model, for being a faithful friend, for being an advocate when I’m afraid, for being the most loving wife to dad, for instilling in me a value for reading and writing, for dedicating yourself to teaching others, for telling me when I’m wrong, for making life fun, for letting me live outside of a bubble but also giving me rules, for being a really, really good mom.
I love you.
Dad, your post is next.
My mom’s Facebook post today:
I’m still trying to grasp this miracle: Brad exploring San Francisco with no oxygen, healing more every day when last month I wondered how much longer he would live. God has been so good to us even when our whole world was shaken, carrying us through a heart wrenching summer when Brad was so ill, and a hard move from the home we loved, to this place and time, to this miracle. The peace He has given us through it all is such a mystery to me.
“Though the mountains be shaken and the hills removed, yet my unfailing love will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,” says the Lord, who has compassion on me. – Isaiah 54:10