For about eight-and-a-half months, I’ve been a parent. During that time, I’ve come to discover a kind of love that was new to me. Intense. All-consuming. The kind of love that makes you want to swallow up its object. I’ve also developed a love for babies generally. I’ve always liked babies, sort of like how I’ve always liked baseball. But now I feel this affinity for them. Like I can look at them and say, “Hey, you. I understand you. I know where you’re coming from. You and me, we’re the same.” I drop off my little Charlie at daycare every day and it’s just wonderful swimming for a few minutes in a room full of happy little crawly, babbly creatures.
I recently ran across the story of Trevor Kott. Truth be told, I’m sure there are many Trevor Kotts in the world, and the only thing that differentiates this one is that his parents have the means and inclination to publicize his situation. Which is this: He is a six-month-old baby who was born with leukemia. That’s right. Born with leukemia. His situation is also this: He needs a bone marrow transplant but has no match. So his parents have launched what they describe as a “grassroots” campaign to find him a match. There are “drives” to identify potential donors, and those who cannot make a drive are encouraged to register for the bone marrow registry.
I cried when I read the site. I don’t think I would have cried a year ago. But now that I have my own litttle beast, and I think about how perfect and sweet and innocent he and all babies are, and I think about the unbelievable injustice of a world that forces a baby to undergo what this one’s gone through, with the probable end result of a very early and premature death, I just can’t take it. It’s so unfair. It’s so sad.
It also makes me feel SO lucky for what I have. Now that I have my own, I am able to put myself in the shoes of Trevor’s parents. Well, I am able to try to do that. I’m sure their experience is the sort of thing that cannot be understood by those who haven’t undergone it. But even to the extent that I can vaguely imagine their world, I imagine that I would be furious with the universe. I would also be furious with a world of people who, because they are lazy or fearful or uncaring do not make themselves part of the bone marrow registry. I would have trouble understanding why people would not put themselves in the position to save a life.
A year ago, I would have been – and was – one of those lazy and fearful (and perhaps uncaring) people. I had some general awareness that there existed a bone marrow registry, but I thought things like, “Wouldn’t they have to stick a big old needle into my bones? Ouch. And yuck.” And then I would go on my merry way.
But now that I wear a parent’s shoes, I feel more of an obligation to do what I can to mitigate the fundamental cruelty inherent in the chaos of the universe. So I just signed up for the bone marrow registry. (Which is here, in case you’re curious.)
Consider it.
I hope that this thread can help spread the word to other people about how it’s actually much easier than that to sign up! I’ve been on the bone marrow registry for a few years now, and it’s definitely well worth the little bit of effort it takes to sign up for the sake of possibly saving someone’s life.