By: Emily Boyer
It has been a long day; an immeasurably long day. We spent it at the Hemophilia Treatment Center (HTC) in an attempt to rid my little one’s body of a persistent inhibitor. It was long. I am tired. My house is a mess – I do not remember the last time my kitchen floor was mopped.
Our family room looks more like a daycare center everyday. I do not see the mess; I see snapshots from the day. Logan’s green “anywhere” chair is turned upside down because he was using it as a mountain and a slide. The couch cushions are smashed and out of place because the picture window behind it has an almost perfect ledge to stand on. The reading basket does not contain any books because those are scattered about the room in no particular order. The magnetic letters from the fridge have mysteriously vanished and an empty bottle of factor is sitting on the television cabinet.
This is my life, and Logan is my little boy who would climb the house if given the opportunity. But he also has hemophilia. And recently, someone asked me how much hemophilia weighed on my mind.
The question sort of stumped me. In a nutshell, the answer is never and always. We are almost two years in this hemophilia thing. I have learned that hemophilia is part of who my child is but it is not who he is. I think about Logan all the time – which is evident in my lack of sleep – and, naturally, hemophilia comes up because hemophilia is a part of his life. A part of my life.
But when I look at Logan, I see a creative and active little boy.
I often think about how this diagnosis changed our lives in so many good ways, and
how we will continue to grow and learn in the years to come. So to say that I never think about hemophilia is not really true. We do, however, forget the scary words we used to think about.
I will still cry. I will have times when I will never feel accustomed to this new world of blood, factor, and bruises, but I do not see hemophilia when I look at Logan. I see blue square glasses that bring out his blue eyes. I see my nose. I see a miniature version of his father. I see the immeasurable love and joy I have for Logan, instead of seeing hemophilia. I see Logan, my sweet little boy.
Emily Boyer lives with her husband, Geoff, and 2 year old son, Logan, in Minnesota.
*Note: “Infusing Love: A Mom’s View,” is a blog collection of personal opinions and a representation of individuals experiences. While extensive efforts are made to ensure accuracy of the content, the blog entries do not represent HFA or its Board of Directors. The blog is also not intended to be construed as medical advice or the official opinion/position of HFA, its staff, or its Board of Directors. Readers are strongly encouraged to discuss their own medical treatment with their healthcare providers.