This morning before the boys woke up, I sat at my laptop, drinking coffee, and thinking about…well…about life. Mainly about the bungalow and related fundraising. But overall, I was thinking about life.

And I began to sob. A full on, ugly cry. You know the kind.

I was praying, you see, and wondering if God was not bringing the boys what they need in a bungalow because of any of my past wrongs, my current flaws, or simply everything I’ve ever done or do which I should be sorry about…and indeed, am sorry about.

I begged for forgiveness.
Again. 

Now, I know full well that a loving God would not, does not, put children through hell because of anything their parent may do. But there I was anyway, being so sorry. I must have said “I’m sorry” a couple dozen of times in between mumbling about what a failure I have been at providing for my sons’ needs. I’m so sorry…I know they deserve better than me…I’m sorry…(sob, sob, sob)

I finished my cry. I finished my prayer. And I finished being sorry for being less than they need…at least for now.

To my friends and the public who I’ve annoyed with the humiliating begging as I ask for help…I am sorry. Some of you understand. Many of you don’t. Whichever one you are, just know that I cannot wait for this all to be over. I hate it with a passion and each day it eats at me inside because it reminds me that I have, in this way, failed these two most precious gifts that are my sons.

To those of you who have been unsupportive, and indeed those of you who have actually been hurtful with your words, to you I still say, I am sorry. I am sorry for you and your closed minded hatred, but even so, I hope you are never in this position.

Just before I sat down to write this, I had been in changing Brendan’s nappy. Let’s just say it was a major job, this one. I had to gently roll him over to clean his back. When I did, I noticed the bend in his right side was even more pronounced than it was last week. The crease a darker red. Oh my God, Brendan Bjorn…I am so sorry baby! I said, even though the fault is not mine. I took a photo and sent it by email to no less than 5 people associated with his spinal surgery team. No more delays. September. He can’t wait any longer. And I did not say I was sorry. I am not sorry. I am angry, disappointed and disgusted that he continues to decline, now waiting over 14 months on what was erroneously called an *urgent* waitlist.

As I look at his back, and now at the photo, my feeling sorry about any or all of my faults is replaced with determination. It has to be, and this is something I think many people don’t understand about me. I will go through hell and back to make sure we secure the bungalow and it is ready for Brendan to come home to after his surgery – and that the surgery must happen next month. BOTH of those things have to happen. Full stop.

I won’t give up, and I won’t be sorry about the fight I put into either of those goals.