Three years ago, almost to the date, life as I knew it changed forever. Not only had our happy little family gone from 3 – 4 and I was in the early stages of wrangling a newborn, I received a phone call that shook my bones beyond that which I’d ever known. My son was diagnosed with a genetic condition, Cystic Fibrosis (CF). I haven’t really shared much here about my son Geordie and his journey with (CF). I have shared a little of my own personal challenges through my courses and speaking gigs and today I’m here, to share this story with you.
We never wanted Geordie to be “the kid with CF,” and we made a very conscious decision to not allow CF to penetrate our every thought. We wanted Geordie to simply be Geordie, a thriving little man who knew no hurdles too big to overcome. There was a time after his diagnosis I found myself in a dark hole, wishing for somebody to come along and pull me out. It was all consuming. I cried a lot. I was so afraid of the future. I didn’t want Geordie to suffer and I sure as heck didn’t want to lose him. At the same time I found myself cautious in allowing me to love him more, as if, that could too be over in an instant and I didn’t want to have my heart ripped out. Thankfully, all very temporary thoughts.