...the 12th of never and other days worth waiting for...

...to myself, when all of this was new and oh-so-scary...

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In days and years to come, these moments will just become another part of the story.

So just for now, it's absolutely positively okay to melt down a little in them.

You can take a little while to feel the shock and the anger and disappointment and the fear. You can go a little crazy inside your own head, and feel more than a little lost. You can laugh and you can cry and you can rage. 

Go ahead. Do it all. Let it out and get it out.

Because I promise you, by tomorrow none of it will seem as grim as it does today.

So give yourself those 24 hours… They're part of the story too. 

And when you wake up, you'll see that just because everything's changed doesn't mean that anything has changed. 

You're still you. He's still him. You're still exactly who you were supposed to be. And so is he. A name -  a diagnosis doesn't change the people.  As time goes by, you'll learn that and you'll live that.  That scary phone call didn't really change anything. It just provided a framework for what had previously been unstructured.

And I promise you, 24 hours later, you'll get that. You'll get right back to your regularly scheduled programming and you'll breathe, because everything is the same and everything is different and that's exactly how it's supposed to be.  You'll see him outside, playing in the pool, and he'll be who he was and who he is and who he'll become…

And in that very moment…that one…you'll realize that you are now what you were always on the path to becoming...

Have faith. Breathe.  Look at him and believe that "every little thing is gonna be ok".  

Because that's what you did.  And that very doing is what made me...

The days are going to go so slowly.  You're going to feel as though you're drowning in the details.  You're going to worry, all the time. You're going to panic about things you have no control over. And you're going to stress out about things you can't change.  But I know you. Even in the midst of all that chaos, you're going to spark something miraculous...you're going to look for happiness in every single day. And you're going to find it.

The days are going to go so slowly.  You're going to be so busy.  You're going to square your shoulders and unleash your stubborn side.  You're going to scoff every single time you hear the no.  You're going to devour every bit of information you can find, and try every suggestion.  You're going to build an entirely new relationship.  You are going to create a team of two.  

The days are going to go so slowly.  You're going to be lonely.  You're going to be tired.  You're going to be hungry, and cold and sick.  You're going to go "without" for days on end.  You are going to suffer.

The days are going to go so slowly.  You're going to savour moments.You're going to photograph everything. You're going to feel pride like you never dreamed possible.  You're going to revel in successes.  You're going to learn that joy is measured in its counterpoint to the sorrows.

The days are going to go so slowly. But the years? They will fly by before you can get your bearings.  You'll see them flash by before you know what you want to do during them.  You'll try to fit it all in and fail.  You'll have to-do lists that never get done.  You'll feel an overwhelming sense of panic bubble up when you count up how much time is left and realize it will never be enough.

As those slow days and those fast years become a part of your story, all the no's will become yes's.  And all those little things and big things you were afraid to hope-wish-dream?  They'll surprise you by coming true.  Life will unfold in ways you never saw coming and you'll realize that was always the plan.

Before you know it, you'll be here. At exactly this point on the timeline.

You'll be me.

You'll be me and he will be turning 12. You will cut his hair in the kitchen, while he plays Minecraft on the iPad.  He will be so immersed that he won't even notice you've chopped off five inches. A spring shearing.  He will be miserable when you give him the mirror.  Because, without those five inches, he's afraid he doesn't look like you.  That teary-eyed declaration will make you glow a bit on the inside.  Hold on to that. Enjoy that admiration and adoration.  It's due. 

You will be me.  You will feel a little bit dazed as suddenly everything seems to be going so rapidly.  You'll be overwhelmed by all the achievements as they crowd together.  You'll cheer him on from the sidelines.  You'll sign his report cards. You'll sit in the audience. You'll stand in a museum and admire his exhibition.

You will be me.  Your heart will clench when you look at him and the little boy is gone.  You will miss everything that was.  You will sadly realize that the door has closed and now it's all in the past.  Your heart will break a little bit.  But once again you're going to square your shoulders and unleash your stubborn side.  And you're going to become the next version that you were always meant to be.  

So follow your own advice, and live it exactly how it's coming at you.  Let it push and pull and mold you.  Let if define you and refine you.  Make choices.  Make mistakes.  Make it last.

This is your story.

 This is my story.

  Let's live it in a way that makes it worth telling…