It all started when I was giving birth. It seemed strange to me that my husband would be sleepy like if he tried not to fall asleep at that specific moment. Then, there was the excitement of finually having a baby. For a brief moment we were so happy. Everything was yet to come, everything was yet to happen. It was our new beginning. We were a familly.

Then of course the baby wouldn't sleep much... We were exhausted. We didn't know she wasn't eating enough so for the first 2 weeks, she cried all the time.

Then my husband started changing a bit. I thought he didn't want to change diapers anymore, I thought he was letting me do all the work, on my own. Also, I had read somewhere that if a father takes care of his baby the first 6 months he will continy doing so, for the rest of his life... So, I insisted he would help. 

I was so tired, I was so exhausted I didn't notice he started sleeping more and more every day.

He had turned pale... How could I have guessed it was leukemia?... 

One night the baby stopped breathing. She was sleeping between us when a weird noise came out of her throat and she wasn't breathng anymore. We got up in less than a second... He reacted first. He talked to her, he shook her a bit, she was unconscious. He turned her around, hit her back and then she started breathing again. Despite the exhaustion, we couldn't go  back to sleep...

I noticed he wasn't okay. The baby was 7 weeks old... He got angry with anything that kept him from sleeping. I told him he was abnormally tired, he wouldn't listen. He said he had the flue... He was never sick. It didn't look like the flue... He wouldn't listen... Later on he explained to me, he had thought he was having cardiac issues... I had then replied: what if I had woken up with you dead, lying beside me, in our bed?... He said he hadn't thought of that.

His "disfonctional" familly wouldn't help much. His sister had stopped talking to him when she had found out I was pregant... His mother barely came to see us, out of duty... She told me he looked pretty sick.

That night I called my old dad -who lives abroad- and told him I believed the baby and my husband had cought some kind of flue that messed with their breathing. He told me to see a doctor 1st thing in the morning. I couldn't wait. 2 hours later he had dragged himself (ourselves- he was the driver) to the hospital.

When they saw him, they told him to wait with us untill someone came for him. We were waiting for the pediatrician.

He was taken away... The baby turned out to be okay. They told me to go home, that he would join me in a couple of hours. That it was late for the baby. I thought it was weird, but I did as asked.

Of course he had forgotten his cell phone again...

2 hours later, at 4 oclock in the morning my phone rang. He had been diagnosed with leukemia. He was going to stay in hospital for a few weeks.

I thought he had got that wrong. 2/3 weeks for leukemia??? He never knew much about illnesses... Even in my sleep I needed  to check if he knew what he was talking about... "Do you know what leukemia is?" I had to ask. He answered: " Yes, it's blood cancer but it can be cured. Good bye now, I have to hang up, this is the doctor's phone." I was left alone, in the dark, at 4:10 am... with a horrible feeling that an earthquake had devasted my whole life...

They had to start the treatment before even knowing what sort of leukemia it was... It was a matter of hours... If we hadn't gone there, that night, he would have died in hour bed, next to our daughter... Next to me... Without even having the time to say good bye...

The chimios started. I didn't know what aplasie meant... I wasn't alouded to touch him for 2 months... In the room next to his was a woman, who just like me was loosing her husband. But unlike me she wasn't 40 years old, she didn't struggle every day where to desperately leave the baby to go and see her husband. She didn't have a 7 week-old baby. She had grandsons and a huge familly to support her. I had no one. My familly wasn't able to do the trip from abroad. His familly... his mother went to see him every day but no one ever asked me how I was doing... They never cared, they never asked.

The next 5 months I struggled between the baby and my time with him. Some friends came over for support. Everybody was so shocked at the idea that, he who had always been in excellent health, he the athletic guy. he who was swimming, running, jogging every week, riding horses, could get sick that fast. "Are you sure there were no symptoms???" would eveybody ask... 

People felt uncomfortable as they imagined being in my position. The first 2 months friends came over to baby sit while Incould finually go and see my beloved and terrified husband. My fantastic friends even helped with re arranging the flat for his immune system problems... and then, they all went back to their lives and once more I was left alone.

The last 5 months were a nightmare of solitude, fear and things I should better keep for myself.

In addition to all that came the problem with the will... the inheritance and the fact he wouldn't consider the idea that he could die.

I was next to him when he died. I had left for 3 hours to leave the baby to an association for a few days as I had recognized the symptoms of the end approaching. Well, yes, unfortunately for me it wasn't the first time I had to experience that. 

My mother and her whole familly died of cancer... I was with her as well, to the very end...

By the time I came back he was in a light coma. He tried to talk a couple of times but nothing made sense. So I explained to him it was okay. We had said everything there was to say. I cherished him, he loved me back. I was going to take good care of our baby girl. I hold his hand while he would stop breathing... then he would breath again... that went on for a few hours...

I told him I would stay with him as I had promised.

A week before that I had tried to prepare him for that moment. When the doctors had talked to me, saying how sorry they were, I had tried to prepare him. I had told him he might experience an obe. That it was okay. That I had had several myself and that he shouldn't be afraid if that happened. I explained that it was okay to leave his body. And that unless there was a chance of him being saved/ cured he shouldn't come back, he shouldn't suffer. That he should then do what was best for him and that despite our sorrow. If he had to go somewhere else, a place we the living can't know for sure exists, he should go. 

So he did. I think he mad sure I wasn't alone in the room with him and as a friend of his, a father figure came in and took his other hand he slept away, peacefully.

I stayed a few hours. I kissed him on the forehead and told him if there was a place to go, I would find him. 

The first 2 nights after the burrial I felt his presence. Ever since, I think he is gone... it has been 2 weeks now and now... Now everybody keeps telling me, how lucky I am to have a baby...of course I am... but the word "luck" rings highly unpleasant to my ear.