It’s been a couple days since we last wrote, so we wanted to assure you all that Idan is still doing very well. We are very blessed to have two weeks worth of “less bad” days, and so incredibly fortunate that Idan has tolerated all the drugs well so far. Idan has nicely adjusted to his new environment, and we are constantly amazed by his ability to make the best of his situation.
Every day we try to spend at least half an hour with Idan on his play mat. The physical therapist brought it by when we first arrived, and encouraged us to get down on the mat with him and play so that he can continue meeting all of his milestones. Sure enough, yesterday, we were playing with Idan on a mat in our room when he pulled himself up to a standing position and pushed against a small chair. He excitedly gestured toward the door and continued pushing forward. This little guy wants to walk. So we put on his sneakers, grabbed him by both hands, and walked him up and down the hallway of our unit. He was thrilled beyond belief, smiling and flirting with all the nurses, making sure to wave and blow kisses even if it meant letting go of one of my hands.
I can’t help but think back to the very first transplant consult we had at Memorial Sloan Kettering in New York back in May. We asked if Idan would be chained to a bed again, as he was during his first hospitalization. The doctor replied with a smile, “No, he should have full freedom of movement. In fact, we’ve had a few toddlers learn to walk in our very halls.” First, I breathed a sigh of relief. Then, I thought, how incredibly sad. As a mom you always dream of the day you see your baby take his first steps. In fact, I remember thinking of that very thing when Idan was just a little peanut in my belly. At the time, I was much more concerned with missing the occasion than I was with the how/when/where of it all. But when I pictured him walking for the first time in a hospital room that day, it broke my heart.
Having been here two weeks, I see things a bit differently. First, in the same spirit as Akiva’s last post, I feel lucky and grateful that, when he’s ready to let go of our hands, I might be able to witness Idan’s very first steps. Second, I am surprisingly overjoyed and bursting with pride that Idan may soon take his first steps in a hospital. It speaks volumes about this little boy’s personality, resilience, and determination. He marches forward, no matter the circumstances, no matter the obstacles in his way. He is my hero, and he can walk wherever he damn well pleases.