It’s been a year. Already. A year since Gage got his new kidney from Jody. And as I sit in the quietness of my house while the kids and Julian are asleep, I can only think about the chance at a better life (and ultimately a better life) that one woman gave to one little, kidney-challenged boy. I type those words while there is a tear running down my face and a lump sits in my throat. I would sob right now out of sheer amazement of her gift, but that would stop me from trying to express my gratitude.

Giving himself a shot.

It’s been a year of firsts for Gage and our family. Since March 27, 2007 we’ve seen a child in our family without high blood pressure, and daily shots. We’ve seen a boy whose energy finally matches his zest for living. We have a boy who has normal kidney function. One who can run. And play soccer. Our boy, for the first time in a very long time, has learned a huge amount in the past 12 months academically, instead of barely, and sometimes not, getting by. Last March was the first time I believed that Gage might survive. For a very long time before transplant I thought ARPKD would kill him; by way of infection from dialysis. I see a happy child, while still behaviorally challenged, he is happy. He feels good. He has soft, curly hair we didn’t know would return after he had good kidney function. He weighs almost what an average 9 year old weighs.

One week prior to transplant, learning what will happen during his transplant

Just the past few months I’ve been able to hug my child and feel health, instead of frailty. You can’t possibly know how it feels to feel weight on his bones. It’s the one thing I marvel at several times a day…while I see him changing, when he is in his PJs, when I notice a t-shirt that hung to his thighs a year ago now shows a protruding belly, when I hug him. When he runs up to me to hug and knocks me over with his weight.

4 days post transplant

Under two years ago (at age 7) they said my boy had the same wrists that would belong to a 3.9 year old. A toddler. That’s what failing kidneys do. They rob you of almost every normal thing in your life. You are tired, feel bad and don’t/can’t eat, you sleep restlessly, your brain is robbed of oxygen that you need to learn. Your body can’t grow. All of this affects every ounce of self confidence you have.

And kidney function can and did, change all of that.

One month post transplant

Our donor, Jody, would have you believe it’s a small gift. That she was “called” and she gave and that was that. Her greatest hope besides Gage’s life being improved, would be for someone else to hear her and Gage’s story and feel moved to donate a kidney. She’s a remarkable woman, our donor. She, along with 3 other remarkable people, decided however they decided that donating a kidney to Gage would be worth the risk. All for a chance to give him a life. A different life. A life full of promise and hope.

Jody, you can’t ever possibly know what it means to this mother to watch a child get weaker and weaker and know that you and his father can’t help him. You can’t possibly know how it feels to be in awe that you followed your heart when you learned you could help Gage. And each and every day I thank God that Gage is alive and that you helped him when he needed it.

It’s impossible for me to tell you how grateful I am for your gift. I am so appreciative of Gage’s ability to participate in life. What I can tell you with certainty is that I am committed to appreciating the beauty in being his mother. Thanks for helping him live and giving me the opportunity to watch him grow.

Happy Kidneyversary. I love you.

Easter 2008