Eight years ago, my life changed forever. When I held that sweet, little baby boy in my arms, I felt instantly bonded with him.
After I found out he had CF, there were times I felt completely devastated. As if I didn't know how to go on. Other times, I felt incredible strength, as though I could fight and kill CF with my bare hands, and make all the bad parts of his life go away. Without God and my parents, I could not have made it this far.
Through the hospitalizations, helping him through physical pain, and spending weeks alone with him, we both strengthened each other. The older he has gotten, I've realized that I've helped him fight CF for 8 years, but in return he has helped me fight it as well. We are partners in fighting CF, and this past year, we have been jogging partners as well. At times, it feels like we are running away from CF, putting more miles between him and the hospital.
These past 8 years have been both difficult and happy at the same time. Trying to maintain an appearance of "normal" life to the outside world, and trying to maintain this routine of treatments, feedings, antibiotics, pills, pills, pills ... the "fighting like mad" to avoid the hospital. Still, I wouldn't have it any other way. It has been an absolute blessing to watch this baby become an independent, social, outgoing, caring little man.