My Story

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William Jason "Baby Jay" Gaskins

January 5, 2001- March 31, 2006

Jay courageously battled a malignant brain tumor for 2 ½ years and WON as he skipped into the Gates of Heaven on March 31, 2006. Jay’s gusty little spirit, his never-ending smile and that undeniable sparkle in his big brown eyes, has touched so many lives. He has taught us to embrace life and to see it through the eyes of our Heavenly Father. He has taught us how to live for today no matter what tomorrow may bring, to love each other unconditionally, and to never give up hope, even against all odds.

“Against all Hope, in hope we believe...” (Romans 4:18)

A Child of Light
(written for candlelight service)

This small child we remember,
Though missing from our sight.
In honor and remembrance,
We join our candles to shine his light.

Jay’s soul has gone to a new world,
where there is no darkness, no pain,
In our hearts, his light and essence
will always remain.
His spirit lights the candle,
for it has not really gone,
With each flickering flame, we pass it on.

As we light the candles amongst us ever so slow,
It starts a flame of memory with its loving glow.
It’s amazing how such a little flame,
Can touch us so deeply, we are never the same.

Jay left us precious memories,
His love is still our guide,
and though we cannot see him,
He is always by our side.
Amongst the angels in heaven,
His whisper is the wind,
And as our candles flicker,
we know it must be him.


“I have fought a good fight,
I have finished the course,
I have kept the faith.” (2 Timothy 4:7)


"Hope is hearing the melody of the future. Faith is being able to dance to it."

"Because of My love for you and by My grace, I've given you eternal encouragement and good hope. I encourage your heart and strengthen you in every good deed and word. The key is finding joy in hope, patience amid frustration, and faithfulness in prayer. Through Jesus, I've given you access to living hope! Absolutely nothing is too difficult for Me!"

Assuredly,
Your God of All Hope

Welcome to Jay's Web Page. It has been provided to keep family and friends updated about Jay's VICTORY in his battle with cancer. Jay is the five year old son of Jason and Cindy Gaskins. He has a big sister, Kaitlyn who is seven years old and a baby brother, Tanner who is two. Jay was diagnosed with Medulloblastoma(a malignant brain tumor)in September 2003. He had emergency brain surgery to remove the tumor at The Children's Hopital of Central GA. Jay was referred to St. Jude Children's Research Hospital in Memphis, TN for treatment. Cindy, Jay and Tanner lived at the Ronald McDonald House and the Target House during 4 months of Chemotherapy and 6 weeks of Radiation. After many complications including seizures and airway difficulties(which required a trach and G-tube), Jay completed his treatment in April 2004 and was declared cancer free. He remained in remission for 7 months and relapsed in November of 2004 when new tumor growth was detected during a routine MRI. Jay has been entered into a trial study of Experimental Chemotherapy. He has completed two rounds of Chemo and on January 26th, 2005 we will repeat the MRI. Please pray for God's mercy and gift of healing on this earth for our Baby Jay. Join us in praying that Jay will continue to be a story of hope for all who battle this beast called cancer.

January 2005-the tumor is almost gone!!!

March 2005-The tumor is completely gone!!! Praise God!


August 2005-Relapsed with four new tumors. Entering into another Phase One
Study.

December 2005-The tumors have doubled in size, we were sent home with little to no hope from the medical community. Jay began a protocol out of Boston and is currently under the care of our local Pediatric Oncologist.

January 2006-The tumors doubled in size in two short weeks. Referred to Hospice.

February 2006-The tumors are SHRINKING!

March 2006-Jay went home to be with Jesus.


Please sign the guest book to let us know of your visit. The kids love to read your encouraging messages!

Journal

Wednesday, May 10, 2006 8:20 PM CDT


Everything is Gonna be Alright


At the advice of a friend, I have begun to write down special memories of my Jay. One of my most precious memories, is the countless times Jay and I would snuggle. Even as a baby, Jay loved to lay between Jason and I in the mornings and drink his bottle. I could never resist that soft, sweet bald head, and I would kiss him over and over again. Jason used to say to me, “You are going to kiss that boy to death!” I would just shrug my shoulders and say, “Well, I am going to enjoy it while I can, because one day he will think he is too big for his Mommy’s kisses.” Even as a toddler, Jay would wake-up bright and early and want to lay in bed with us. I can still hear the pitter-patter of his little feet coming down the hall, and his sweet little voice demanding, “Mamma, I want Ba-Ba”.

The day before Jay was diagnosed, I was laying in bed with him, kissing his little sandy-blonde head, and reassuring myself that everything would be alright. I was praying that my Motherly instincts were all wrong. The very next day, on a hard hospital stretcher, I was cuddling my baby boy while a nurse placed an IV in his little hand. This time, I was reassuring Jay that everything was gone to be alright, and praying that I was right. Hours later, after receiving the most devastating news, I found myself holding Jay tightly in a frightening ICU room awaiting emergency brain surgery. This was the first of our many “it’s not alright” moments, but still praying that everything would be alright.

Over the next two-and-half years, cuddling with Jay became more and more special. With each hospital admission, with each visit to the Medicine Room for chemo, and after every sedation, I would wrap my arms around him to reassure him, and myself, that everything was going to be alright...and I would silently pray that I was right. For six months in 2004 and for six weeks in 2005, the boys and I lived by ourselves in Memphis. After a long day at St. Jude, we would settle into our room in the evenings at either the Target House or the Ronald McDonald House. Our nighttime ritual was to put Tanner to bed in his crib, put on a movie, and then Jay and I would snuggle under the covers until we fell asleep. I remember very vividly, holding Jay in my arms, and kissing that soft, sweet bald head, over and over again...just like when he was a baby. I also remember being so thankful that he didn’t think that he was too big for Mommy’s kisses. In the midst of such uncertainty, we both found comfort and security in our nighttime snuggling. It always made everything alright.

At the end of this past December, Jay’s health began declining quickly. The tumors were taking a toll on his little body, and most days, Jay was not himself. All he want to do was sleep, and all I could do was hold him. I would lay with him in bed, wrap my arms around him, and kiss his fuzzy little head. I would whisper to him how proud I was of him, how much I loved him, and that everything was going to be alright. And then, with tears rolling down my cheeks, I would cry out to God in my head, “Please God, make it alright!”

During our fifty day stay in the PICU, mine and Jay’s snuggle times were few due to all the wires and tubes he was hooked up to. I wasn’t able to hold him much, but everyday, I would lean over the railing of his hospital bed, and cover his soft, sweet bald head with kisses. I would whisper in his ear that I loved him and would reassure him once again, that everything was going to be alright. On March 30th, 2006, Jason and I were told that the swelling in Jay’s brain had worsened, and that there was a strong possibility that he was brain dead. That night, our nurse repositioned Jay and all the wires and tubes so I could crawl into bed with him and snuggle. Jay was unresponsive, and his little head was as cold as ice, but I still couldn’t resist kissing him over and over again. I held him tighter than ever, and through my tears I whispered, “No matter what, everything is going to be alright.”

The next day at 1:59pm, God took Jay from my arms and into His, and in the blink of an eye, He made “Everything alright”.

Every night as I go to sleep, I close my eyes and envision wrapping my arms around Jay and kissing his soft, sweet bald head over and over again. Through my nightly tears I whisper, “Mommy loves you baby”, and Jay always whispers back, “Mommy, everything is gonna be alright.”

http://band-together.com/link_to_bands1.htm Jay's hope wristband.

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