I haven't written in awhile....my words keep failing me. I write, and it just doesn't seem to do our situation any justice. I can't seem to capture the mix of beauty and tragedy in this whole situation. Beauty? Yes beauty. There are really beautiful moments of compassion, gratitude, and hope that piece back together our broken hearts. Radiation is over. Our doctor told us the rest was up to God, wished us luck with chemo, and sent us on our way. His words have swirled around in my head for a week....why won't that register with me? Why won't that settle? Because I am her mother. That is why. My mind....my heart cannot accept anything other than a happily ever after. I will not lose her.
I soak up the mornings where I can watch her sleepy smile stretch across her face as I tell her we don't have any doctors appointments that day. Sometimes she hops around her room, dancing and prancing a little "no hopkittle day" dance. I witness the simple joys of swinging, bubble baths, and sibling fun with her baby brother. A few nights ago Taylor and Max were swinging side by side, and Taylor squealed, "We are SWINGERS, we swing at NIGHT!" Oh dear.... Did I mention that my baby boy has grown up in the midst of all this? He turns one next week, and this has been his journey too. We are so lucky to have such a forgiving and happy little guy. It isn't easy to leave your baby every day, to miss things...but I know he forgives me and wants his big sissy better. I know it.
I prioritize my worries at this point. I focus on getting meds in, food down, and pain under control. I can't worry about all the things she is missing out on, because everything can wait. But sometimes worry creeps into my heart when I notice a somber, pensive mood wash over Taylor. What she needs doesn't come in a bottle, or through an IV. It requires a 45 minute car ride. If I can just get her there, and into the arms of her best medicine, her best friend, her main source of strength.....my 3 year old nephew. He doesn't see cancer, he sees Taylor, and I love him for it. He is the smartest, kindest, and most amazing little healer I know. During her first long stay at the hospital, we taped a picture of Drew to her hospital bed. I watched her trace her fingers around the outline of his face every day....missing him. He gives me hope, he believes in her one hundred percent, and I often need those visits with Drew as much as Taylor does. We love you Andrew!
"Mommy what are you dooooo-ing?" I snap back into reality. Was my head really just in my hands? How long have I been sitting like this? Where was the nudge from Chris?? I glance back at my little loves, both securely fastened into their carseats, toys in hand, enjoying each other's company. Taylor squeeled, "This is SO fun!" Chris and I exchange a familiar glance, the one that says, "That was SO cute, but SO sad." Before Taylor pulled me back down to planet earth, I was caught in a memory, drowning in a sea of horror, flashing back to our first few days after Taylor was diagnosed. I remember crouching in a lounge on my knees, crying, while a nurse hugged me. I remember watching Taylor sleep every night, and sobbing quietly in my chair. I remember seeing a look of absolute despair on Chris' face, a look I had never seen, and feeling absolutely terrified. My memory of those first few days is fuzzy, it's hard to believe that four months have passed. If we are lucky, we have 7 more radiation treatments, and 7 more months of chemo....if we are lucky.
I make a decision every day, often several times a day, to handle this situation with grace, patience, and courage. The last few weeks have been so incredibly difficult, and I finally hit my breaking point. It felt like I just stopped treading, raised my arms up, and sank. Down, down, down to a place of complete heartache and worry. It helped nothing. In fact, it made everything a million times worse. So I am back in happy mommy mode, making the decision every day, several times a day, to stay positive. In the midst of this difficult time, we are so blessed. We have our sweet girl, our happy little Max, and each other. That is enough.
