Once a parent…

We never know the love of a parent till we become parents ourselves.
~ Henry Ward Beecher

Yesterday was my 50th birthday and, as much as I dreaded reaching this milestone, it’s not so bad. In fact, I feel like I’ve crossed over to a whole new perspective: “I’m in my 50s, so I don’t give a damn!”

In the months leading up to the big 5-0, I caught myself thinking about my parents – particularly my mother – and how old she was when I experienced major life events. She was 25 when I was born, 43 when I graduated from high school and 47 when I got married. And she was 38 and 42, respectively, when I underwent spondylolisthesis and scoliosis surgery.

As a parent, I now understand the depth of love and helplessness my parents felt as they watched me live through two surgeries, and several years in body casts and back braces. I remember Mom telling me, “If I could do it for you, I would.” The truth and significance of that declaration were lost on teenage-me, but now that I’m a parent, I get it.

When my son, R (age 10), was crying and refusing to drink the God-awful bowel-cleansing concoction he needed to have before his colonoscopy last summer, I said those very words to him ~ and with every fiber of my being, I meant them.

R was diagnosed with inflammatory bowel disease (officially “indeterminate colitis”), which translates into either Crohn’s disease or ulcerative colitis. At this point, it’s just semantics; treatment is the same for both conditions.

The good news is he was diagnosed early.

The not-so-good news: after less than one year on the least-invasive medication, he is once again symptomatic. I want to make it all go away for him, but I can’t. Just like my parents couldn’t make my spinal issues disappear.

We’re awaiting blood test results and researching other treatment options, including dietary changes and integrative medicine. In the meantime, I would ask for your prayers of healing – for R and all those who suffer from this chronic disease.