To My Darling Milan,
One day you may not remember and my memories may fade with time, I can keep the images inside my head so you don’t have to, but I want to tell you a story for when you are older and you want to know why you have scars.
Behind your beautiful big brown eyes and long paintbrush eyelashes, cheeky smile and infectious laugh is an incredible story.
One of bravery, of an everyday superhero; my hero, my son.
What a miracle you are.
Like most kids your age you have a lot of dreams; to be a teacher, an artist, to travel and to be on TV, to one day visit Disneyland and of course to be a Superhero (even though I tell you everyday that you are one).
But more importantly are the things that you would love to do, all the normal things that kids your age do-like attend school every day, play sports and go swimming, to play with friends and not to have to take yucky medicine or have finger pricks and insulin needles.
You were born with Congenital Hypothyroidism, so ever since you were born you have had blood tests and medicine and had hospital appointments. When you were two you needed grommets for glue ear, and when you were three you broke your foot from playing with your cousins.
In June 2012 your big sister and big brother and I moved to Melbourne to join Daddy who had moved months earlier for work. We were in search of a new beginning. We arrived with one suitcase each of our most favourite and treasured possessions – all that we had left, and moved into an empty little house.
I began looking for a job, but you became ill and deteriorated very quickly. After many visits to our GP and constantly being turned away, being told that you just had a ‘flu’ that had affected you more because of your compromised immune system and being exposed to germs in a new country. We were also turned away from Emergency at our local hospital on a Saturday night, given a pamphlet about fever from a very condescending Doctor, I had nearly convinced myself that I was crazy.