I hate that he was diagnosed with this disease!
I hate that he will have to have blood drawn!
I hate that he's afraid of the doctors and nurses!
I hate that those same doctors and nurses will try to tell me my son will only get worse, not better!
I hate that we'll be there for over 3 hours and have to see the doctor, nurse practitioner, geneticist, dental hygienist, and social worker!
I hate those cold and lonely exam rooms!
I hate that they try to unsuccessfully make them warm with butterflies and other woodland creatures!
I hate that although this diagnosis doesn't define my son that this is part of his story!
I love that Husband called off (the first time ever) to be there with Youngest Son and support me!
I love that we have a great support system that reminded me that our family and Youngest's story can be an encouragement to sufferers of this disease because of his phenomenal health!
I love that my son has never suffered more than a needle prick!
I love that God knows me and is gracious with my thoughts and feelings and has encouraged me through his Word (I started a new devotion about the major characters of the Bible and Youngest Son's Biblical namesake was the first character mentioned) that my son will have long life!
Ahhhhhh! Ok. I'm done.
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