I'm so grateful for this blog for so many reasons.  Most importantly, because Ty's story is making an impact in spreading awareness for pediatric cancer.  Second, because your comments and messages have literally saved me and Lou during our darkest days.  And finally, because it helps us to look back and remember all of the wonderful things we did from day-to-day with Ty.  Ty was a gift to all of us. He was my greatest gift, and I am so happy I shared him with you (and can continue to do so). Every single thing that came his way, he handled with such courage and I am just so proud.  As most of you know, we are waiting for a huge storm here in the Northeast.  The threatening news began blasting out everywhere as early as Friday, but I think it is being over dramatized in the news.  It seems when we are most prepared (Hurricane Irene) the results aren't so bad, but when we least expect it (Snow-tober 2011) we are buried in snow and without power for a week.  Last Hallowee

I would take my aching back over my aching heart any day.  When I say that Ty and I were so attached to one another, that bond between us was as physical as it was emotional.  He was part of my body when he came into this world, I held him in my arms and never wanted to put him down during his healthiest of days, and once cancer took over he became so disabled that he was literally part of my own body again.  He was just an extension of me - and I loved feeling so close to him.  It was my way of feeling like I was doing everything in my power to help him and protect him.  I'm so so so so sorry I couldn't save him.  My baby.  I can't believe my love, faith and devotion wasn't enough to protect him.  That all of our thousands of prayers wasn't enough.  That his fighting spirit and unbreakable smile wasn't enough.  Even after the most difficult surgeries, this boy came out smiling.  How can he fight so hard and not get through this?  The only solace I find is

Every morning, I make coffee.  I am completely in love with my morning cup (or three), and I don't know how I could start the day without it.   But since Ty died, I have had a very hard time making my coffee in the morning.  And, every day it tastes absolutely terrible.  Gross, in fact.  I might have to go out for coffee in the morning from now on...   Since we moved to Pawling, three months after his original cancer diagnosis, Ty and I started a coffee ritual.  Ty's legs were so weak but his upper body was strong (at the time), so I often let him sit on the counter in our new kitchen so I could do what I needed to do without him feeling left out - not even for one second.  One of the most important of which was making coffee.  Ty and me, we were two peas in a pod.  We did EVERYTHING together.  I can't tell you how lonely I am now.  For the first time in so long, I am having a hard time explaining my grief.  I don't even understand it myself.  I can go hours and

Yesterday was the first time Lou and I really emerged from our house of sadness, and I am so happy we did.  First we attended a local dedication to Ty at Pawling's "Socktoberfest" soccer tournament, where Ty received a gold jersey from the soccer club and his number - number one - will forever be "retired" just for him. Later that day we met up with over a hundred people in Poughkeepsie for a candle lighting ceremony.  I don't know how she pulled it off, but in less than a week's time Lou's cousin Renee arranged for the Mid-Hudson Bridge to be lit in gold lights to spread awareness for pediatric cancer in honor of Ty.  It couldn't have been a more beautiful night, and I felt Ty everywhere.  Thank you so much for all of you who came out to light a candle for Ty, and thank you so much to Julia who sang so beautifully - it was wonderful and my whole family was so touched by the tribute.  Ty's amazing nurse from MSKCC, Sue, travelled so far to

I said in the last post that Ty's story is far from over.  I will continue to write about him indefinitely, and I hope you will all continue to share his story and invite others to follow his journey, even now.  Ty's courageous battle and unbreakable smile has made a powerful impact on so many people around the world, and I truly believe that this is only the beginning.  I will never get tired of hearing people tell me how much my little boy means to them.  How much his story has given them perspective.  There have been so many beautiful, wonderful comments over the past week.  They bring me to tears in a very good way.  I have so much catching up to do, but I promise I do read them and I thank you all for sharing.   I used to spend the nights lying in bed next to Ty, listening to his breathing with a mind so consumed with worry that I would eventually have to get out of bed and start typing.  Maintaining this blog has always been therapeutic for me.  I thought after he die

Ty Louis Campbell is gone, but his story continues.  This is our promise to him.  His impact on the world around him gives his short but inspirational life such meaning.  His soaring spirit will continue to fuel a fire in our hearts, and strangers around the world will continue to fall in love with the little boy who fought so valiantly.  The little boy who hurt so much, but maintained a bigger, brighter smile than the healthiest of children.  Ty never did break his fever.  He never really woke up.  Not until he decided to leave this earth and fly freely among the clouds.  At that very moment, he was awake.  He had returned to Lou and I to say goodbye.  To say our hearts are broken would be like saying it tickles to have your stomach ripped open with a spoon.  I went to bed last night with so much worry on my mind, but I was able to fall asleep because I was calmed by the fact that in his semi-conscious state, Ty seemed so incredibly peaceful and comfortable.  I laid down next

Ty Louis Campbell 10.04.2007 - 10.17.2012

Today was a day of rest for Ty.  It was not a smiling day.  It was a hot sweaty, uncomfortable, feverish day.  Ty was feeling so terrible, and I overheard Lou whispering to him, "I'm so, so sorry, Ty.  We tried so hard.  All of that medicine you've had, and all of those surgeries.  We really wanted them to work.  You have been so brave.  I'm so sorry."  I've uttered those same words a thousand times, as well.  Everyone asks how we are doing.  The truth is that we are usually okay because we are so consumed with taking care of Ty.  As always.  We are in overdrive just going through the motions and keeping our mind, body and souls very busy by focusing on our special boy.  But on days like this, we feel like we are failing him. We watch Ty on the couch and we hear ourselves sharing our most brutally honest thoughts.  How we want him to leave us so he can finally feel better.  So this nightmare can be over for him.  We, too, will be given a sense of freedom tha

Ty's hair is just pure awesomeness.  We don't do anything to style it, he is just a natural hipster :)  Then there's those slightly parted heart shaped lips when he's sleeping... they are more tempting than the reddest, ripest apple.  How can I resist not pressing my own lips against that pucker right there and stealing a smootch? Taking in the sweet smell of his warm breath? It's as delicious as it was the day he was born.  Not a day has gone by that I haven't kissed those sleeping lips since.  What will I do????  It's been a long day and I ran out of time to write much, but I did want to share just one quick story behind his smile of the day so you know that all is well with the Campbell's.  Ty has been having it pretty rough, so we asked Nana to take Gavin overnight last night, and then he spent the majority of the day with Aunt Debi and his cousins today.  As much as I love and miss Gavin, of course, when he is home the dynamic of the househol

Baby Ty, Summer 2008 When I found out I was pregnant for the first time, I signed up at babycenter.com.  I wanted to track everything about my baby's growth from the time he or she was the size of a sesame seed until birth and beyond.  Every week I would get an email about how my baby was growing eyelashes and was the size of a kumquat or something.  It was so exciting.  After Ty was born - the best day of my life - I continued to get these emails.  The subject line always read "your baby this week" and would be filled with information on developmental milestones, parenting tips, etc.  As he got older, the subject changed to read "your toddler this week," then "your preschooler this week."  I noticed that since Ty turned five, it now reads "your big kid this week."  How is it that my little baby is all of a sudden a big kid?  My tiny, toddling two-year old who we took to the hospital for some peace of mind one night, ended up becoming suc

Tonight, I am happy.  After an absolutely horrific night last night, I dragged myself out of bed today not knowing how I would make it through this day.  I was so pleasantly surprised.  Today was a gift. After my post last night, I went to bed with Ty and gave him his midnight meds.  He immediately threw up after I pushed them into his belly tube even though he usually isn't so sensitive.  It was a really bad one.  I had to clean him up, change his clothes, clean up the pillows, the bed, clean out the suction machine, get him a new g-tube, among other things.  It was okay, though.  It felt good to care for him like that and I knew I was making him feel better just by getting him all clean, soft and cozy.  Unfortunately, my tender loving care wasn't enough and he ended up vomiting every half hour or so for the next six hours.  I think part of the problem was that he threw up his anti-nausea medication the first time.  When 6AM rolled around I was able to give him more an