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Sweet Cade. Four years ago today we sat in the PICU at Boston Children’s Hospital stroking your cheek and wishing our story could be a bit different. You had friendly dinosaur casts on both of your legs all the way up your chunky thighs and you were one day away from turning 8 months old. Anytime a parent sits in a hospital they’re usually sitting there not because they want to be but because they’re hopeful in a future difference. We sat there hopeful we had made the right decision and all was going to be ok.
Four years later, without a doubt, sweet boy, your bilateral Symes amputation has opened up a world of possibility for you. You run, you play, you’re confident and determined. You hop and jump and are thriving in preschool. And I can barely believe all that you’ve seen and done in 4 years. There have been many moments where I am just in awe that I get to be the lucky momma to watch you tackle this beautiful world and how thankful that makes my heart.
I wish I could tell that scared momma sitting in that hospital room all the things I’ve gotten to see you do and you’re only 4 years old. Sad momma, fearful and unsure…it’ll be ok. And I know you hate hearing that. I remember it. Because it wasn’t ok that you weren’t quite exactly like other little ones. It wasn’t alright that we had to make the call to have them take your foot away. But scared momma, unsure of what is to come, oh there will come a day when you watch your little person in prosthetics with endless wonder. Watch them put their prosthetics on themselves, watch them play soccer, watch them climbing up steep steps of a medieval castle somewhere. You’ll watch them thrive. What was so looming and unreachable is barely a thought on our minds, a “Cade go put your legs and shoes on” statement while packing lunches and trying to get out the door in the morning.
It’s all a distant memory now and I sat there in the hospital room wishing for that–that it’ll all just go far away from our right now. But wishing away all those little steps that brought us to today would have made today less beautiful. You climb, you cry, you wonder, you watch and in those day-by-days, you change. I look at this beautiful world filled with different people in a unique way because of the journey you started us on. Cade you are infinitely important in the way you have made your little imprint on this world, on our hearts. May you never doubt how lucky you are to be, dare I say it…a little bit different.
“He redeemed them because of his love and compassion; he lifted them up and carried them all the days of the past.”
Isaiah 63:9
22 responses to “Sweet Cade: 4 Years Post Surgery”
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Susan 
Carol Heartfelt Whimsies 
Finding Lovely 
Amy Horsfall 
Heidi 
Ashleigh 
Luciana 
Kimmy H 
Kathe Kramer 
Jenny 
Emily 
Patti 
Leslie
Cade is the best and nothing is going to stop him! Such a sweet boy just like his little brother
Jackie—I read this beautifully written post with tears in my eyes. So inspiring to me. And so comforting to someone out there who may face a similarly tough choice one day.
May God bless sweet Cade and all of you!
Thank you Carol! He’s such a sweetheart. I can’t believe it’s already been 4 years!
Another beautiful and heartfelt post. A beautiful love letter to your son! Thank you for sharing this glimpse of trust in the unknown and the beautiful blessing in doing so.
Thank you Amy!
God knew no ordinary life would do for Cade! He has a spectacular plan for him. Your family is such a demonstration of unconditional love. It is amazing.
Thank you Heidi! He’s such a blessing to me!
Beautifully written! As a new momma with an almost six month old my heart strings we’re pulling. My baby boy has a differebt issue and a very minor surgery, but just the thought of ache and pain on our babies is hard to bear. I just got lost in a lot of your posts and thank you for the honesty, the loveliness and the words of the lord
Thank you Ashleigh! It’s amazing how being a momma opens up a whole new part of the heart.
Oh my God…I am fron Argentina…I love all you post (I’ve just say that!) But I didn’t know the details of Cade’s problem. I am staring at my two little girls (Elena 3years, ICSI baby, and Amelia 8 months, a miracle) and can’t stop crying and thinking how blessed I am…
Definitely, you are a Great mom and person. Cade is so lucky.
Thank you Luciana! Bless you and your littles.
I’m so glad I found your blog, when I was that scared Mama you are talking about. We are 2 years behind you guys, with a little different story but bilateral prosthetics are part of our little mans story too. They are amazing at what they can do, their determination is endless and their hearts are huge. Many blessings to your family- thanks for sharing your story. ❤️
Awww so sweet Kimmy! I couldn’t agree more, it’s amazing what they can do!
I have commented before, Cade is a hero and a role model to me. He just doesn’t give up, he was born courageous and exactly how he was meant to be. And into just the right family.
Thank you Kathe!
Wow what a beautiful post. Such a special son. I remember seeing him climb the castle stairs this summer in an insta story you shared. Beautiful boy. Thanks for opening your heart and sharing his story. xo
Beautiful Cade, may God bless you and your family.
Thank you Jenny! Such a sweet comment.
I read this post with the biggest lump in my throat. Looked at your face and saw my own – Mama of boys… I know that bond and when I think of my first baby and our amazing connection, I can’t imagine having to have made the choices that you have had to. The saving grace is that your sweet Cade is thriving! Such a beautiful post in tribute to Cade and to the aching-hearted Mama in that photo.
Jackie
I must sound like a broken record but you do write so beautifully.
What an amazing and touching tribute to Cade. What amazing parents you and Matt are to have promoted such strength and independence in this little boy.
Patti
Thank you Patti! We’re so thankful for you. You’ve been with us from day 1.
AWESOME.