“Evan has a limited amount of blood, so we need an accurate and detailed family history,” the doctor explained. At the bare minimum, Todd and I had to list any cancers diagnosed to any relatives. “I’ve been in close contact with the pediatric oncologists on Oahu and we need to narrow down the possibilities.”

I’m not sure Todd and I will ever get over this trauma, and maybe Evan won’t either. “You remember when I was so sick I had to stay in the hospital for days and days, Mama?” As most big conversations, Evan and I happened to be in the car. “You had to leave me at night because they would only let Daddy stay. They shouldn’t do that. They should make rooms bigger, so kids can have their mommies and daddies.”

Those long days in the hospital were some of the worst of my life. It was several weeks before we got the final answer and still months before Evan’s strength fully returned. We know he’s in good hands. Evan has not only a great pediatrician but a wonderful geneticist who is working to see if we can help his immunity, weakened by his x-linked ichthyosis.

However every time he’s been sick since, Todd and I try not to panic. In the first quarter of kindergarten, Evan has missed at least three weeks of school. Fevers come and go and with them, a conversation between Todd and me to decide if we are over or under-reacting. When you’ve had to face the idea of losing your child, it changes you forever.

It was a miracle that he survived to be born, and it is a miracle that his bloodwork changed the way it did. I still have the voicemail from the doctor, who could not believe the final results. Evan’s picture looked bleak and cancer was the probability. “I have never been so happy to call a child’s parents,” he said.

At Evan’s six-year well visit today, I couldn’t help but smile, seeing him bounce around the room. “Oo! I love this doctor tool. It’s my favorite,” as he pointed to the reflex hammer. The doctor let him use it on his knee, Evan giggling each time his leg flew up in the air.

Transformers are Evan’s favorite toy, and jumping on his new trampoline (his birthday present) is his favorite activity. He makes friends everywhere he goes and loves kindergarten “more and more every day.” Playing in the sand and swimming at the beach are equally enjoyable. He won’t accept any treats unless his sister gets her fair share. Every night he insists on snuggling with me before his daddy reads him a story. I take none of this for granted.

There has been a lot of pain, trauma and loss stemming from what happened last year. But greater still is the love I feel for my sweet son, the appreciation I have for those who were there for us then and since, and the gratitude that every day I get to hold him tight.