I unpack the past with hemophilia and discover the strength of my adult son
Caeleb's time away from home is pushing him to grow up, and he is flourishing
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The sound of a tape gun gives me anxiety. There’s the quick pull of the tape from the roll, followed by its crinkling as it’s pressed onto the box’s flaps. The serrated blade bites down and tears the tape cleanly, the cardboard often giving a faint, hollow thud beneath the pressure.
For my family, these sounds are associated with moving.
My husband is a United Methodist pastor and is occasionally moved to a new church appointment. About nine months ago, we moved to a new home. It is an exhausting process, and I refuse to live with packed boxes for longer than six weeks. Recently, I found a few unpacked ones, and opening them to find shirts and dresses felt like Christmas morning.
My youngest son, Caeleb, 20, came home for spring break recently. This was exciting for me because it had been several weeks since I had hugged him, and I was looking forward to our time together. I talk or text both of my sons daily and cherish my close connection with them.
Unboxing old memories
While Caeleb was home, my husband and I took him to the farmers market. Main Street closes down and vendors line the street as the smell of kettle corn wafts through the air, with fresh agua frescas in supply to liven the taste buds and quench one’s thirst. Every Saturday, the market is a place to meet, eat, support small businesses, and see dogs of all sizes walking with their owners.
About three-quarters of the way down the street, Caeleb said he needed to sit down, so we found a bench in a shady spot and sat together.
The three of us were laughing and enjoying each other’s company, but sitting down offered up a reminder.
Caeleb has severe hemophilia A with an inhibitor, a significant complication. His knee and ankle are damaged from joint bleeds. When he was younger, I sat by his bed changing ice packs, administering morphine, and staying in his hospital room when the pain couldn’t be controlled at home. Today, he has chronic pain and is often limited.
Not seeing him every day made me lose sight of that.
As we sat for a break, the time spent together in silliness and laughter warmed my heart. But I looked at my son differently this time. He has endured more pain in 20 years than most do in a lifetime, but he is an adult now, living away from home. He gets to class by bike or electric wheelchair. He advocates for himself and is now aware of how the world can discriminate against those who live with disabilities. His time away from home is pushing him to grow up, and he is flourishing.
Seeing Caeleb rest his sore joints stirred memories I’d pushed aside. When a child lives at home, their struggles are visible; ice packs, infusions, sleepless nights, and clinic visits become routine. But once they move out, that daily rhythm fades, making it easier to forget how much they continue to carry. But sitting there, everything I’d set aside came rushing back. I remembered long hospital nights and the pain that shaped his childhood. Now I see the strength shaping his adulthood.
The tape gun will mean another move someday. We’ll pack, carry, and unpack in a new home. But a mother’s memory and pride are never boxed away. Watching a child who has endured so much pain move forward with courage turns even the most painful moments into joy.
Note: Hemophilia News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Hemophilia News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to hemophilia.
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