At first, I thought he had caught a stubborn virus from preschool.
I took him to the pediatrician.
We went home with instructions to watch his symptoms.
When he didn't improve, we returned.
There were blood tests, follow-up appointments, and a phone call that changed the direction of our lives.
I still remember exactly where I was standing when the doctor asked me to bring Eli to the hospital for further evaluation.
I was in the kitchen, holding a wet dishcloth.
The television was playing a cartoon in the living room.
Eli was sitting on the rug, sending his blue car through a tunnel made from an empty cereal box.
The doctor spoke calmly, but there was something in her voice that made my stomach tighten.
She explained that some of Eli's blood test results were concerning and that specialists needed to examine him urgently.
I asked whether he had an infection.
She didn't give me a simple answer.
Instead, she told me where to go and whom to ask for when we arrived.
I hung up and stood motionless for several seconds.
Then Eli looked up.
"Mommy, can Thunder come with us?"
I stared at him.
He was holding the little blue car in one hand.
I swallowed.
"Of course, baby."
He smiled.
"Good. He doesn't like staying home alone."
I packed a small bag, put his favorite blanket inside, and drove to the hospital.
That afternoon, I learned that my four-year-old son had leukemia.
I don't remember every word the doctors used when they explained the diagnosis.
I remember the white walls of the consultation room, the box of tissues on the table, and the way a specialist carefully described the kind of leukemia Eli had. I remember hearing about treatment plans, medications, blood counts, and the possibility of complications that could require immediate attention.
I remember asking whether my son would die.
The specialist didn't promise me anything.
Instead, she explained that many children with his type of leukemia respond well to treatment and that the medical team would do everything possible to give him the best chance. She described what the next stages could involve, while making clear that each child's response was different.
I nodded.
I asked questions.
I tried to remember the answers.
But part of me was still sitting in my kitchen, watching Eli push a blue car through a cardboard tunnel.
The first weeks were overwhelming.