Dear Adi,
After we came back from the hospital, something changed. You were constantly drowsy—because of all the medications. My bright, active toddler wasn’t being naughty anymore. You just sat quietly, and every time I saw you like that, my heart broke.
Still, I kept telling myself, “This too shall pass. He’ll be okay again. I just need to stay strong.” That belief is what I held on to.
It felt like I was being tested at every step. Just two days after we got back home, you had another massive seizure. You weren’t responsive for 15–20 minutes. We rushed to the hospital again—me holding you in my arms. You regained consciousness about five minutes after we got there. We were terrified. It felt like the ground had slipped away beneath us.
You were hospitalised again for 4–5 days. Same tests, same questions. But still, no clear answers. The doctors said it could be because of your condition.
Your medicines were changed, and we came back home. Every time I had to give you those strong meds, I wanted to cry. But I told myself—if it’s helping you, I’m thankful. I told myself it was only temporary. That one day, when you’re better, we won’t need all of this.
I couldn’t allow myself to be paralyzed by fear.
Those back-to-back hospital visits took a toll on you. The seizures changed something in you. You stopped talking, playing, dancing like before. It broke us.
But all I could do as your mother was give you the best care I could, hold you with love, and pray that you’d be ok soon.
The three of us waited—patiently—for your voice, your giggles, your “mamma,” your “deta,” your “mamba.”
And slowly, you returned. You, my little fighter, pushed back against everything. In a month or so, we saw glimpses of the old you again.
And that was enough for us.
We learnt to take each day as it came. To celebrate every little step.
You reminded us how beautiful the small things are. That ordinary isn’t ordinary at all.
You taught us joy.
You taught us to live in the moment.
You taught us all that and much more in this short life time.
For that, and so much more, I will always be thankful, my boy.
Love you always, Jan.
Your Mamma