The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me

When I was a little girl, I used to dream about being a mother. That dream came true the day Carter was born. He was everything I hoped for, and so much more. I loved being Carter’s mom. I loved it. I still do.

Carter made motherhood feel like magic. He was sweet, funny, curious, creative, and thoughtful. He was the kind of kid everyone wanted to be around. He had a magnetic spirit that drew kids and adults in. Carter loved skiing, climbing, kayaking, biking, creating, camping, making people laugh, and being in nature. His soul was grounded and adventurous at the same time. He was discerning about people, he knew who his people were and gave them his whole heart. I was lucky enough to be one of those people.

For seven beautiful years, our life as a family of three was full of adventure, love, and joy. We didn’t know we were living in the good old days but we were.

Then, just after his seventh birthday, Carter was diagnosed with osteosarcoma, a rare and aggressive bone cancer. What started as a sore knee turned into an x-ray, and that x-ray turned into a whirlwind that changed everything. Our lives became filled with hospital rooms, chemotherapy, surgeries, radiation, trials, and hope. Carter underwent an amputation (rotationplasty) of his left leg, numerous surgeries, and so many treatments I lost count. With this all going on, we still lived everyday, even through all the pain, we had fun. We had joy. We kept exploring, laughing and soaking up every ounce of time together.

That was a conscious decision. If we only focused on what was being taken from us, we would have missed what was right in front of us, Carter's light, his humor, his resilience, and the deep bond we shared. I don't regret a single moment that we chose to live with intention, even in the face of fear and uncertainty.

In 2018, Carter died. He was ten years old. There is no greater loss than the loss of a child. I was 100% in on being Carter’s mom with my heart, soul, everything. Watching him die felt like watching my own self break and disappear.

Carter didn’t disappear though, he’s with me. His strength, his light, his joy, his bravery live in me now. I get to carry them every single day.

After Carter died, I sank into a place I wasn’t sure I could ever crawl out of. My heart was so broken, I didn’t know who I was anymore. I didn’t want to survive, because how could I live without my son? But piece by piece, and breath by breath, I started to find my way, not out of my grief, but through it.

I can hear Carter’s voice in my heart:

“Keep going, Mama Bear. “Live”.” So I’ve been trying to do just that.

For him, for me, and for all my loved ones.

This blog, Motherhood Dissolved is a place to hold all of it: the love, the loss, the strength, the devastation, the resilience, the days I fall apart and the days I rise. It’s a place for real talk, real healing, and real hope. I’m not here to sugarcoat grief but I am here to say that even after the unthinkable, healing is possible. Life can still be meaningful and joy can still exist.

If Carter and I reunite one day, I want to wrap him in my arms and say: "You taught me to be brave. You taught me to love this life. I kept going, just like you did. I lived."