A young mother has written a heartbreaking post on her blog, stating that she wants nothing but for the life of her cancer-stricken son to be cut short as she feels helpless watching him suffer everyday.
Bede Darch was diagnosed with an aggressive terminal brain cancer at the age of four months old, his family were given the shocking news that he had just weeks left to live.
But three years on, he has defied the odds after undergoing nine months of intense chemotherapy in the hope of buying him some time to enjoy his life. They even set up a go fund me page to help with treatments.
And his mother Isabella has now made a heartbreaking admission, saying she wants her three-year-old son – who cannot see or talk – to die so he could be out of his misery from the excruciating pain.
My heart is raw. Because the truth is I want my son to die. I’m tired. He is tired. I want peace for him, rest. But I instantly hate myself because I know then that is all there will be.
He will have no more growth, no more moments tenderly reaching out to his brother, laying next to his sister. He wont squawk away at his dad anymore, he won’t let me kiss him in the way only I can.
He will just be gone. That is not enough for my special light filled boy. Life is hard but death seems worse.
Roy likens it to having something you love more than anything else in the world, that you want more than anything else, that you treasure above all else but knowing you can’t have it. Knowing it’s better for everyone if you don’t. Knowing you need to let it go. It’s heart breaking.
All I want for Bede is happiness. I grieve that we don’t all get that.I am angry that we feel so alone.
Roy is confident about life after Bede, that he will be able to go forward living a life in testament to him. That his legacy will be brilliance.
But I am scared. Scared that without my steady ship, my touchstone, my beautiful gentle soulful boy I will crumble because my world will never be the same.
I am scared that the woman that will mother cress will be a stranger to who I am now. So I try to smile as much as I can and love as hard as I can in the hope that I can build her up enough that she will weather having me as her mum.
We go on trying to be present, trying to soak in every single moment, utterly mindful of how precious each one is while we spend sunny staurday afternoons choosing toddler sized coffins that would never, could never hold all that our son is.
My heart bleeds and I grieve. I am tired. My bones and muscles and every tendon and ligament ache.But as the bitterness of life rages the storms are rolling in across that familiar ocean. I know this too shall pass.
As I type tears stream down my face and I pound at the keyboard because life is hard and even writing isn’t easy anymore because there is so many conflicting things to say. Because of course amongst all this grief there is light. Bede’s interminable light.
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