i used to be scared of this disease.

its true. when evan was diagnosed with hemophilia, i really fell apart inside. my emotions took over and i cried what felt like nonstop for days. i was confused and terrified of the unknown. the only thing i had ever heard about hemophilia was when i was a kid and watching the made for tv movie about ryan white. yep, that ryan white...the young boy who died of aids. my stomach turned. my mind raced. what was happening? why is it happening? was this karmic justice for something i had done? something i hadn't done?

the first few months of e's life are recalled in my mind as a rollercoaster of emotion. i remember the first time i took him to st. joe's to talk with sara about hemophilia. he was eight days old. she bombarded me with books and pamphlets that i didn't want to face. i didn't want to read them. i didn't want him to have this. i wanted to hide from it. i remember leaving that appointment with my eight pound baby and driving over to my mom's house so my aunt from virginia could meet him. we listened to coldplay lullaby music and i sobbed while trying to navigate the roads.

and then, one day i found a bruise. for no reason. it was just there. a big one that seemed to eat up half of his arm. it looked enormous on this little creature. i remember staring at it and just looking and feeling it. i cried. i was scared. and when i composed myself, i remember looking at my son who was nursing and oblivious to what i was feeling and thinking "wait a minute, this is him...this isn't me." and i stopped.

i changed my view. i had to. i could let this affect him in the negative way it was affecting me, or i could learn to embrace it and teach him the same.

so thats what i did.

and you know, barring a three month period of absolute fear and multiple hospital stays, i think i have done a good job.

and as i look at him today, i know he is going to be alright. he's a fearless two year old that happens to have blood that doesn't want to cooperate sometimes. he's an amazing child who doesn't even notice that he's getting a needle stuck in his chest three days a week. he is an amazing person that wants to play and learn and explore. he teaches me so much. he reminds me that life is good. he allows me to remember that we can learn to adapt and live with things instead of lamenting them.

evan is a totally amazing little boy. he will grow up to be an even more amazing man. i just know he will. and i think he will teach many people along the way how to embrace the unknown and have compassion for others that just happen to be a little different. and remind them that different isn't scary. and at this moment, and probably most importantly, he has taught me that there is no reason to keep being afraid.

oh, the irony.

well, today was e's 15 month check-up. weeeeeeeeeeee! he is definitely growing. he's now up to 23.5 pounds and 31 inches. this may not mean much to anyone else, but it means a lot to me. e is now in the 35th percentile for weight and 46th percentile for height. this is HUGE considering he had been in the 10th and 14th percentiles (respectively) at his last visit. and before that, he was in the 5th percentile for weight. i guess it's all the whole milk and cheese.

and something a little bit funny happened at the doctor's office today, too. we didn't see his regular pedi, as he was on vacation. we did see one of his colleagues, who seems to not understand the invention that is floss. anyway, he looked at e's head circumference measurement (which is in the 80th percentile) and seemed concerned. he said that he would like to re-measure his head in six weeks when he comes back for his next flu shot, and if it measures bigger he would like to send him for a ct scan to be sure there are no tumors or anything growing inside. and i laughed and said "oh, there's no need for that...he's had three ct scans in the past three weeks...everything in there is fine."

i guess the silver lining there is that being a hemophiliac (and a somewhat clumsy one at that) has it's advantages in early detection of abnormal growths in the head. or rather, reassuring us that there are none in there.