Eli

Meet the Gibson Family, in this photo they eagerly anticipate Eli's birth.

Most of my posts take me mere minutes. I simply, as one writer put it, set down to the keyboard, slit my wrists and bleed into it.  Some, are much harder. Usually, these are research pieces which require less heart and more numbers.

That is why the story of little Eli was surprising to me, his struggle struck me speechless. See, fromthe moment I heard about his battle with life threatening, rare, and serious birth defects, I have been moved. I am a mother of sons. Stories about hurt baby boys are easy for me to identify with.

Then, I went back and followed his mother Jen on her journey from celebrating a much loved and anticipated pregnancy... to realizing that her child would be born deathly ill.
I am disabled. I bitch about it regularly.
I complain to my family, friends... my readers too.
But this is something different. Any parent knows what I mean. For instance, when I am laying in a dark hospital room, weeping in pain and despair, the one light in my heart and soul is knowing that my children are healthy and safe. The suffering of a parent who has an ill child... that is something worse even than actually physically suffering themselves.
I have tried to write an article, with pay-pal links to Jen's blog so that we could all rally around her like so many have rallied around me in my tough times... but for some reason, I have had a block.
I cannot find the right words to compile to explain why my political readers should stop and care about this infant we've never met. But dammit, you should.

This is Baby Eli and his big sister.  What a pair of troopers.

 Each time that I read a status update or blogpost about his most imminent struggle, I am struck with a strange fear. I find myself afraid that I took to long, afraid that I made a grave mistake in waiting for perfection before I shared Baby Eli's story. I just got news that little Eli is in for another rough night.
The fact is that my fear is nothing but grief for a whole family who loves this boy very much. My fear comes from wishing, like his mother must with every fiber of her being, that I could wave my wand and give this infant a healthy body for his beautiful soul to reside in. My fear comes from the unknown, from not understanding my own purpose, let alone the purpose of the suffering of such a child. The fact is.. this is something none of us can understand, justify or fix. Prayers are all we have and on this occasion, I pray for peace and understanding.
Of course, praying for peace is nice, but it doesn't make it come to be. If praying were enough... well, we know how different this world would be. It's time... no it is past time, to take action for little Eli and his family.
The financial strain of this illness and tragedy is huge. The struggle of this sick child is enough. This family should not bear the burden of financial strife at this time too.
I cannot hug this mom from my many hundreds of miles away. I cannot bring her children hot meals. I cannot sit up with her sick baby while she sleeps. I cannot make sure her husband has lunch at work. I can only offer my voice, and the knowledge of my fine readership. I am certain that you will hear this story and want to help. Here is a link. Donate freely.