Missing you
Missing you is a kind of pain, a faint pain, not frequent, yet impossible to dispel. At first, I didn't notice it, but unknowingly it has seeped into my blood, tearing my heart apart. Missing you is a kind of pain, a heart-wrenching pain, not frequent, yet profound. I once thought that with the passage of time, it would fade like a fleeting flower. But it always sweeps over my heart like a breeze at an unexpected moment, as sharp and clear as a knife. Missing you is never tiring yet extremely exhausting.
Preface:
Time flies. My child has been gone for five years. I finally dare to pick up my pen and write down that buried past. Many friends don't want me to write. They fear I would tear open my bleeding wounds, fear that I would suffer. But friends, I know you love me. Yet you don't know that writing is the best release for me. It fulfills a wish of mine. Because in these five years, there has not been a single day I haven't missed my child. No matter how hard I try to forget, there always comes an accidental moment, an unintentional touch, that makes me weep. I can never forget the joy and pain my child brought me. So, I must write, for myself, and for my child, my only child, my forever child. Let me dedicate this article to my son in heaven. Child, you must know, Mom will always love you! No matter where you are, I am forever your loving mom.
When I was still a little girl, every time we played house, I always insisted on being the mother, because I would have a little cloth doll.
When I was in love, I nestled in the arms of my current partner, sitting on a garden wall. Under the gentle moonlight, I told him my wishes: I want to give him a dozen children, raise a big flock of chickens, have a large vegetable garden. Under a lush apple tree, there's a large table. After I cook, I watch my children scramble to eat, then gather around me warmly, calling me Mom...
After getting married, I often held my partner's hand while walking, imagining how my child would walk ahead of us, swaying, while I gently tapped his little bottom from behind...
I like boys. I always thought boys are sturdier and easier to raise. I like mischievous little boys. I know I'm a small little woman and I am proud of it. So, I had a son, a child truly of my own.I gave my son a name――Stinky. The days with a child are joyful; the happiness that every child brings to their parents is priceless, eternal, and real. Thinking back on the time with Stinky, I can still feel that tenderness welling up from the bottom of my heart. It is a kind of gentleness that can melt steel. I remember when he was just born, Stinky was so tiny and ugly. His red skin was wrinkled, like a little old lady. I didn't even dare to touch him or hold him. He kept crying—hungry, thirsty, needing to poop, needing to pee; for a long time, I realized these were his only ways of expressing himself. So, I started learning how to be a qualified mother. Becoming a mother for the first time, I seemed to grow up overnight, as if suddenly I had responsibility. This little life could only survive through my care; he only felt safe in my arms, only slept quietly there, only stopped crying there. Every time I held him, he seemed to know it. The doctor told me he was familiar with my scent. When my hands gently caressed his delicate body, he would turn his little face toward me, close his eyes, anxiously search with his tiny mouth, and softly make 'ah-ah' sounds, like a little bird waiting to be fed. Whenever he nursed forcefully, I felt my life quietly flowing into his body. Often, he would pause while feeding, then tilt his head in satisfaction and fall asleep. Sometimes I worried he hadn't had enough, so I would gently tug his ear to wake him to continue eating. When he was truly full, he would sleep contentedly, smiling, like a smoker finally satisfied with a long-awaited cigarette. I happily watched my child and sincerely thanked heaven for blessing me with such a beautiful little spirit. As my child grew day by day, I realized that I could be so gentle and calm, so loving and kind, so brave and sincere. My heart was full of love, making me smile at everyone. Yes, I kept discovering a new version of myself. Before marriage, I wrote constantly, but after having a child, I never wrote again; I realized that my child is my best work. Being a mother makes me feel proud and fulfilled.Even now, I stubbornly believe that a woman is incomplete if she doesn't get married, and she will never become a true woman if she doesn't become a mother. Children can make your heart incredibly tender! Their angelic laughter can cleanse all the filth and worries of the world. Their pure eyes can make your soul as ethereal and peaceful as the sky in Tibet. When you hold them, when their small body snuggles up to you with trust, you realize how needed and irreplaceable you are in this world. When they call out to you in their innocent voice, you realize that you are truly the happiest person in the world!
My little one has a soft body and beautiful eyes, fair skin, and a red birthmark on the back of his head, like his father. He has a tiny black mole on his right wrist, like me. Because I like drawing fine art figures, I gave him an ancient-style childhood hairstyle: a peach-shaped front and a long, thin braid in the back, with the rest of his hair shaved off. That little braid has never been cut since he was born, and I tie it with a red ribbon. Because of his unique head shape, barbers can't do it properly. So every time, I patiently trim it little by little with small scissors while he sleeps. My little one is unique, at least in my eyes as his mother.
Slowly, he began learning to walk. At first, he practiced in his 'walker.' He learned very quickly and was often seen rushing around the house. He is very curious—when he sees himself in the mirror, he smiles and then gives a kiss; when he sees the mist from the humidifier, he reaches out to touch it. When I cook, he parks his walker at the kitchen door and watches curiously. He depends on me a lot; no matter where I am, he follows. Even if I am taking a shower or in the bathroom, he knocks heavily on the door, and once he confirms I am inside, he waits quietly until I come out. He is very attached to me; even if he soils himself, only his mom must clean him. In his little heart, that is showing favoritism toward ***.
He crashes around in the walker, but when he gets out of it, he is afraid to walk. He often grabs the sheets with one hand and stretches towards me with the other, using his eyes to show his fear. I encourage him by staying by his side: 'Little one! Come, come to mommy. Don't be afraid, mommy's here!'And my child would trustingly take steps, stumbling forward toward me, and I would definitely hold him steadily in my arms... How wonderful it is to be a mother! I have all the joy and pride that comes with being a mother. I still clearly remember, it was the spring of 1996, the gentle May breeze blowing on my green short jacket. The bright sunshine warmly shone on me; everything felt cozy and warm. I breathed in the fragrant air and walked briskly to pick up my child. Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, happiness surged in my heart so strongly that it felt suffocating, a warm undercurrent lightly flowing throughout my body, reaching my fingertips. Even every inch of my skin and every pore felt that happiness. At that moment, I asked myself: what more could I want? I have a husband who loves me and an adorable son. How happy I am. I must remember this feeling. I want to hold onto this happiness. And indeed, I really remembered it (even until now). Moreover, I truly deeply understood what happiness means! It was a real, solid happiness. That year I was twenty-five, and my son had just turned one. As happy as I was, I didn't notice at all that disaster was hiding behind my happiness. It always comes at the moments you least expect. And it was only three short months after I experienced this happiness. One night, when he was one year and three months old, he suddenly started crying uncontrollably. My husband and I tried to soothe him, but he wouldn't stop crying, only falling asleep when he was exhausted. The next day, when he opened his eyes, his left eye was red. I hugged him and hurried to the hospital for a check-up. The doctor only told me to apply some anti-inflammatory drops and it would be fine. So I did so on schedule. But the redness did not go away. Almost a week had passed, so I took him back to check again. This time, the doctor seemed very anxious, checking again and again carefully. Finally, he told me that my child had lost vision in his left eye, and there might be other problems as well. I was stunned! How could this be? I forced my heartbeat down, holding my child as I paced around the hospital while waiting for the test results. I told myself: ‘Nothing worse will happen, it's okay. Even if my child really is blind, I will still love him wholeheartedly.'"But soon the doctor called my partner in, and when they came out, pale-faced, they told me, 'Chou Chou might have eye cancer!' I was stunned: 'Eye cancer? Impossible!!! It must be a mistake.' I walked out of the hospital holding my child. I couldn't believe it. My child is healthy and lively, even if there's something wrong with his eyes, it couldn't possibly be cancer! I didn't believe it! I had to go to Beijing for a follow-up!!! The next day, my partner and I took our child to Beijing. At Tongren Hospital, we registered for the specialist clinic. While waiting, Chou Chou kept holding my hand and running around curiously, constantly asking me, 'Mom, what is this? Mom, what is that?' I couldn't believe that such a joyful child could have eye cancer??!! Yet my heart was constantly in my throat…… an ominous shadow kept hanging over me. Finally, the result came out. Chou Chou really had retinoblastoma. Really eye cancer?!!! ? At Tongren Hospital, when the doctor regretfully told me the diagnosis, I collapsed to the floor. It took a long time for me to realize I had been crying uncontrollably. My heart shouted wildly: 'Impossible. Absolutely impossible!' I felt all my blood drained away, my heart shattered. People were passing by in the corridor, occasionally casting astonished glances at me. My partner asked the grandfather to take the child away first, then pulled me out of the hospital. We held hands, wandering aimlessly through the bustling crowds of Beijing. We didn't know where to go, or even where we could go! Tears streamed uncontrollably down my face; I couldn't contain my sorrow. I knew that in the vast sea of people, no one could help my child. I couldn't either. The doctor had told me: children with this disease will go blind in both eyes as it progresses, and as the tumor grows and spreads, their face will become deformed and horrifying. Another kind doctor quietly told me, 'If it's impossible to manage, consider giving the child to someone else, otherwise you won't be able to bear it. We've seen sick children; at the time of death, even we can't bear to look. It's too cruel!' I listened numbly. Thinking of my child's smiling face, I couldn't believe this was real. He was only one year and three months old. His life had just begun, could it end already? Could all of this really be happening??? The doctor told me that Chou Chou can have chemotherapy now, maybe there's still a 50%..."(because he fears blood has already metastasized), but he must undergo eyeball removal surgery, including the eye socket. The result of chemotherapy is that this half of his face will always be the same as when he was one year old, while that half of his face will grow normally. And even if the surgery succeeds and chemotherapy succeeds, will he only survive? 7?。? Around 8 years old. I really wanted to give him chemotherapy. At that moment, I frantically grabbed the doctor's hand and kept shouting, "Operate on him!" Operate! "But I also knew clearly that for a child just over a year old, this was too painful, and even crueler was that if he survived? 7? If he had become sensible, his suffering would have been unimaginable. Because he was destined to die。。。。。。。。。 I never dreamed my child would have such an illness. Neither my family nor my spouse's family has any genetic history; we are not close relatives. During pregnancy, I was so careful that I didn't even dare to watch TV. Why did this happen???????? That night, my spouse and I made the hardest decision of our lives. I clearly remember the moment I made that decision—my strong partner's bloodless face and sorrowful eyes. I shouted at my spouse, "No!" The doctor said that if we didn't have surgery, the child would go blind, eventually grow something like cauliflower flowers in his eyes, and his head would deform. What should I do! When Chouchou reached out her arms and called out to me, "Mom, Mom, where are you?" What should I do? I'm going crazy! Let's have the surgery! No matter the outcome, we will never regret it. Even if we lose everything,
