Tomorrow I will hold Justin’s hands and play his favorite song while they place an IV and inject chemotherapy drugs into his little veins for the last time.

Justin’s body is tired, out of shape and swollen due to the effects of steroids and chemo-mouth-induced salt cravings.

He does not remember what a “normal” life is like, and, now, he is expected to live one.

But, we will take it one step at a time, and we will get there. Justin is a survivor. The rest can be slowly fixed. He is here. He is a survivor.

I am grateful. But I am also tired. I literally vomited every day for a year. But I am still getting up. Still doing the best I can. And I think maybe that’s enough.

God gave us a 9 lb. 13 oz. baby Justin on August 26, 2010. He was strong, funny, smart and loved to play with his Little Tykes t-ball set.

And then he left us for a while. He was here, physically, but too traumatized by pain and affected by drugs and side effects of drugs to be recognized.

Now he is coming back to us. Scarred and changed, but the light has returned to his blue eyes and he is able to be funny again. Really funny, actually. He makes me laugh every day. And he knows things that other kids don’t know. He understands things about people and life and God that are well beyond his years.

May we never, ever get over this miracle.