We've known in the back of our minds that at some point Levi will have to have a new kidney. How far off was always the question. A big part of me thought that maybe once he got here, the damage to his kidney would be less than anticipated, and we could wait a good 15-20 years before we had to look at transplant. Today the APRN at the hospital actually said the words "kidney transplant" out loud. Well that changes everything. Now it's a reality. We're still looking at a couple of years down the road, as his body will have to be big enough for an adult sized kidney. We will probably have months, or years of dialysis before transplant. I realize that kidney transplants are one of the easiest, most routine things to do, but forgive me for not being excited about it.
I hate the fact that my baby is sick. I hate that he'll never get to play football or baseball. I hate that he'll be on medicine for the rest of his life. I hate the fact that all of my organs work just fine, and I've used and abused most of them, and my baby, who should be perfect, was born with his organs fighting against each other. I hate that I can protect him from so much, except for his own body. I hate that I feel like a bad mother for this.
I really wish that we were at home, decorating the Christmas tree, listening to Christmas music, going to the mall to shop and walk, getting ready to head back to work. I wish that our sense of normality and routine did not involve a hospital. I wish that my friends were the ones that we were spending time with, the ones that were getting to know him, instead of a team of doctors and nurses.
I'm thankful that we have all of this. That we're in a place that can give him this care. I'm glad that there's something that they can do, even if it's just to make him more comfortable. I know that God is protecting Levi and watching over him, and us, and I'm grateful for that.