As a proud contributor for the DuchenneXchange blog, Christi is passionate about advocating for her children, and everyone who is affected by Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy.
To learn more about what Duchenne is, read here.
It’s very near to her heart to write about her journey as a Duchenne mom. If you’re interested in learning more about her families diagnosis story and journey as a Duchenne parent keep reading, and please don’t forget to subscribe.
Christi Cazin is also the author of Living on Coffee and Prayer.
I remember the day I became a mother like it was yesterday. I remember vividly how it felt to hold my precious newborn for the first time. I remember the tiny fingers and tiny toes. I can almost smell that heavenly newborn skin aroma when I think about it. Oh, how I love that smell. I love being a mom. It’s not my only role, but it’s by far my favorite. The day I became a mother...
“Be strong,” people keep telling you, but they don’t know how it feels to hear the doctor confirm the diagnosis you feared most. They don’t know that his words keep haunting you like a song you can’t get out of your head. Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy you keep hearing over and over again. They don’t understand the trauma that takes place inside a mother’s heart when she hears that her child has a degenerative disease. They don’t, but I do.
People are usually caught off guard when they find out that I have two sons with Duchenne muscular dystrophy. They say things like, “I don’t know how you do it?” or “I could never handle that.” They call me brave and strong before they even know me. People compliment me for simply surviving in the world of Duchenne. My faith may be strong, but I assure you, I am weak. The truth is, the ones who are really worthy of these comments are actually behind the curtain. My children are the inspirational characters in our story, not me.
The real gifts are not the presents we buy and wrap anyway. The true gifts are the moments that you’ll never get back. It’s those early morning cuddles that your children will remember. It’s the frosting covered table after baking cookies that will stand out in their minds over the years to come. It’s the night you all stayed up late to watch Christmas movies together that will bring a smile to their faces. It’s the smell of hot cocoa, the sound of laughter, and the simple family traditions that they’ll talk about one day.
My marriage is a fairy tale. Not the kind you read about in children’s storybooks where all the hard stuff only happens before the happily ever after, but the real kind. The kind with ups and downs, joys and sorrows, and is much more realistic than the storybooks describe. My prince charming doesn’t own a white horse, my carriage is a giant mobility van, and the only maid in our castle is me, but our lives are still beautiful.
Duchenne, you have no idea how much you’ve changed our lives since diagnosis day. It started with a simple blood test and ended with a phone call that brought me to my knees. I cried out to God, begging Him to heal my boys. I begged God to take you out of our lives, but sadly you’re still with us. It’s taken me a long time to accept that fact.
I know the threat of this virus is real, and some of us are terrified for the safety of our loved ones. I know this virus is incredibly contagious, but I’ve learned that fear is even more infectious. Fear is what brings panic and mass hysteria. Fear is what drives us apart. Fear is what causes us to honk at each other in the store parking lot. Fear is what makes us try to push ahead of one another in line.
I live in two worlds. One is the world we all live in. Everyone is familiar with how to navigate this world. There are endless maps, books, and guides to help people find their way around. Support is freely available to anyone trying to learn how to thrive here. I still live in this world, but it’s no longer my home. My new home is a far more difficult place to live in...
No parent should ever have to tell their child they have a degenerative disease. There is no parenting book in the world that will prepare a mother to tell her two sons they have Muscular Dystrophy. How do you tell your six and eight-year-old sons that their lives will never be the same again? There is just no possible way to prepare your heart for such a task, but after I got that dreaded call that’s exactly what I had to do...
I witness bravery every single day. I watch my two sons fight a degenerative muscle disease called Duchenne. I watch them struggle to do simple things that most people take for granted. I could go on and on about how courageous my boys are. I could write a novel about how much they inspire me, and someday I will, but this is not about them. This is about the other hero in my home who inspires me, my daughter. This is about all the siblings out there that show the rest of the world how to treat someone with special needs. This is about them. This is about their impact, and the light they bring to this world.
Every day I wake up surrounded by moments. Some moments are ordinary, and some are unforgettable. My favorite moments are the ones full of laughter, joy, and unconditional love. I’m not blessed with these beautiful moments because I have a perfect life, or due to a lack of suffering. Quite the opposite, actually, I have plenty of painful circumstances in my life. When people hear my story, they don’t envy me. The reason I have the profound privilege of waking up surrounded by these precious moments is simple, it’s because I’m a parent.
I thought I was prepared for the results. For months I waited and worried about that call. I tried to prepare myself as best I could. I expected it, and yet the reality of hearing those words hurt much more than I anticipated. Feelings of shame, guilt, and fear came rushing over me like a sudden wave the moment I heard those four words. Spoken so bluntly from the other end of the phone were the results I’d waited to hear for over a year. “You are a carrier,” he said.
I love it when people ask how we are. I love it when they ask about my kids. I like being able to share what’s really going on in my life, it makes me feel loved. I’m an honest person who has always had trouble hiding my emotions. I’m the type of person that doesn’t know how to be anything but genuine. When someone asks me how I’m doing, I won’t say “fine” if I’m not. I don’t always want to talk about my difficulties, but when I do, it’s crucial I have someone in my life that will listen.
This week my two sons got their very first power chairs. It was a day full of smiles as they raced through the house and tested their chairs’ ability to lift up and down, turn corners, and navigate their bedrooms. My sons are only eight and nine years old, and yet this day is already here because they fatigue so quickly. It was such a blessing to receive these fantastic chairs. They will give my boys more independence and more rest for their muscles throughout the day. It is an absolute blessing in every way, but it’s also incredibly bittersweet.