I'll never forget the feeling of my baby brother's fingertips,
How thankful I was to feel his flesh and not empty space.
Hydronephrosis wasn't a word they told me to study for my 5th grade spelling bee,
but it somehow because my most frequently used word for the first month of his life.
Along with guardian ad litem, child support, separation
because Daddy hit Mommy, and Daddy hit Maddie.
Supervised visitation.
Daddy hasn't seen him in six years but Maddie saw Daddy just the other day and had panic attacks instead of sleeping.
Every time I see a trait in my baby brother than reminds me of his dad I love on him a little more
So he doesn't give a sixth grader PTSD one day.
Hydronephrosis is child's play when they start talking about leukemia,
Or lymphoma,
Or osteosarcoma,
Or whatever the **** it is because they still don't know what's wrong
with my 7 year old piece of heaven,
my proof that pure, unadulterated innocence still exists.
I missed two weeks of school
to make sure his dimples always showed
And to make sure Mommy didn't fall apart
I was supposed to be her rock
But my own tears wore me down.
I eroded.
Like grains of sand slipping through fingers, I watched him slip away.
He almost died in my arms.
I missed two weeks of school
And still miss days when he goes to the doctor
I'm waiting by the phone for when a check up turns into a diagnosis
Praying to a god I'm not even sure exists anymore
To keep me alive
By keeping him alive.