I will try to fix you.

This photo is of my son Emmett curled up next to my dad today.

What neither of them knows is that the ugly cancerous tumor that is taking my dad's life is the reason that Emmett exists. And what everyone else doesn't know is that Emmett is the reason that I exist on the (somewhat) sane level that I currently do. The trials and tribulations of the last year plus have been that of which I wish I could have just said "forget it" and drown my reality in some sort of mind altering substance.

But I didn't. 

Why?

Because I know better.
The real reason?
I have a child to protect.
I have a child to nourish.

And that child is here because my dad's cancer exists. 

And I won't let that not matter. 

I will fight. Always. 

Emmett is here because a few months after his diagnosis, with a dozen unanswered questions, more uncertainty than not, and a grim outlook even in the best case scenario, I knew we were on borrowed time. It was with that knowledge that I slowly convinced myself and then my husband that sooner was better than later for child #2. Don't get me wrong, I took my time deciding. I asked all the right questions and had valid reasons. They were all reasons and questions I just hadn't had before the cancer. 

I wanted my dad to meet my baby.

And what if...
What if that baby would be a son, the first grandson?
What if my dad beat the cancer and got years to live afterwards then all would be happy and well? Then he could watch him grow.

There were periods of time during my pregnancy when I feared the life inside me wasn't growing. Concurrently my dad was fearing that the life inside of him was growing. There were moments where my doctor appointment wouldn't go well but his would and then times when mine would be looking up and his would be some sort of unexpected bad news.
I wanted both of us to come out winners in this battle.
But that isn't what happened. Instead I watch my dad's face fall into sorrow and sometimes tears when he looks at my son... not because he knows why he exists, but because he knows he won't get to watch him grow.

Cancer.
I could dwell on how much I hate it. I could go on forever about the up and down emotions of watching someone die. How one minute you're grateful for the time you do have and the next minute you're cursing and throwing something across the room at the wall out of a rage that rumbles so low within you that you're not sure you'll ever be rid of it.
Instead I will say that I will first thank my dad for everything he contributed to my life, for working hard and providing for our family, for teaching us right from wrong and work ethic.

And then I will thank him for harboring the (cancerous) life that sequentially gave me Emmett.