An open letter to the woman I talked to today outside Children's Hospital about her Zofran use during pregnancy.

We never exchanged names, but those in our undesired society rarely do. We see each other as a mirror - someone else who is living the nightmare of having a terminally or severely ill child.

Today was no different than every 15th day of the past 9 months. My husband excused me, sending me outside for a coffee, smoke, and mom-support. As I explained to you today, while we (two strangers) huddled together hiding from the rain, my little love was receiving chemo. Round 23. All the side effects and troubles spilled out, and you gave me a sympathetic hug.

Then it was your turn. Your child requires round the clock care, breathing problems, brain, kidney and intestine problems. Heart problems. Because you used Zofran, the cancer/chemo patient anti nausea medication that my daughter has to take. Because she vomits so violently, she tears her throat open causing blood to reach her stomach, which of course causes more vomiting. You said your child has almost every single side effect. I didn't judge you for taking it. I remember the brutality of pregnancy induced nausea. But I did judge you for what you said next. You said that you lost a lawsuit when you tried to sue the drug company. That you receive $897 a month from SSI for your child, but that's "not enough." Oh, no. " Someone has to pay" you said. You even said that if you knew things would turn out this way, you would've never taken Zofran. You didn't clarify if you meant a sick child or no money, but your tone was clear enough.

I suddenly walked away, pretending my phone vibrated and that I had to get back inside. The truth is, I was losing my ability to refrain from punching you. I could not believe the lack of ...any emotion from you while told me your plight, that is until you talked about not getting paid.

I didn't need to tell you what I thought of you; I still don't. None of that matters, we're merely two strangers each fighting different battles. Tonight, when I tuck my little love in, kiss her head, and thank God for her... just being alive, I will ask that more people feel that type of unrestricted love for your child.

And you are right. Someone has to pay, and someone will. That someone will be you. For the rest of your life. And I don't mean money.

Sincerely, A Chemo-Kid Mom