Past, Present, and Future

My son, he recently turned two years old.  That seems unreal to me.  Facebook has the memory posts that show up with your past posts.  There have been quite a few of those to pop up on my Facebook page recently.

Some of the posts were of pictures from when I was pregnant with my son, and some were from when he was born.  There were those first birthday pictures that remind me how much he has grown and changed in a year.  He's taller now of course, and he's not so pudgy as babies are.  His hair went from being short and straight to growing the most lustrous curls.  He got that feature from me except my curls don't quite have the wow factor.  His curls are way more beautiful.

Then there are those pictures of times in between.  Those particular pictures were moments where it was just me and him at home together.  I'd look at him and wonder what he would be like at six months, one year, two years.  What would his character be like? His attitude?  What would he be able to do physically that he isn't strong enough and coordinated enough to do now?  What would he have learned?  I've been doing that a lot since his recent birthday.  Now I wonder what he will be like at three, four, and five years old.
 It's hard to focus on the here and now.  I like to be prepared.  I'm not a fan of surprises or sudden change.  (And yet, I decided to be a parent.)

However, when I got sick with Crohn's Disease, all I could focus on was the here and now most of the time.  I was so sick, in so much pain, losing weight by the second it seemed, and unable to even drink a glass of water without it sending me to the bathroom, how could I get beyond that in my mind?  The pain I felt on a daily basis was like (and this is only a small, small, small-scale comparison) a paper cut in that once you get it, you realize how much you use fingers.  Suddenly, that small injury to your skin becomes a massive wound that keeps getting hit and burns fiercely with every hand washing.  And don't forget how awful hand sanitizer can make a cut feel.  Every action draws your attention to that little cut. 

Like I said, paper cut pain is small compared to what I felt in my intestines.  Initially, the pain was just there.  I didn't know to give in to it.  I didn't realize I could be sick with something more serious than strep throat.  But once all the tests were run and a diagnosis was given, I still didn't know the severity of what I was dealing with.  I was young, fourteen years old, and I didn't give much thought to my future as it was.  I was already just living in the moment as a teenager.  Being sick didn't change that thought process.

But being sick made it hard to think about the future which I needed to do as I would be graduating high school in a few years.  Instead, I was dealing with the repeated flare-ups of my illness.  I couldn't imagine life beyond pain, beyond being chained to my house and to the bathroom.  I feared the future if this was the life that awaited me.

I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have an ileostomy.  I wondered what it would be like of course, but I couldn't fathom the idea.  However, I was hopeful.  My desire was to not be sick anymore, to be set free from the bondage that Crohn's had put in me for six years.  Freedom is what it gave me.  Now I can look to the future as I feel that I now have one.  And I can continue to watch my son grow, wondering what he will be like.  I don't have to wonder what it will be like to have an ileostomy.  I've lived with one for over ten years now.  I just wonder at the joys and blessings that await.