Denial..

Last night I asked Taylor if she wanted to go to the mall in the morning. She looked at me shocked, and said, "YES, lets BUY stuff." Chris seemed a little puzzled, and reminded me not to go crazy. Max woke us all at 6am this morning, bless his little heart for sleeping in. Yes, that is sleeping in for Mr. Max. I packed the diaper bag, lugged the double stroller in the car, and got the kids dressed. Taylor pranced around the house, Max followed clapping and cheering for whatever was making his big sissy so excited. I backed out of the driveway and into the snow/slush mix that was dumping from the sky. I could hear that inner voice saying, "You know you are in isolation, no mall today mama, go get some tea." So we drove to Starbucks, Max yelled "HOT MAMA!" to the barista, and Taylor stared quietly out the window. "Mommy, Mommy, let's go home, my legs are too sleepy for the mall today." My heart hurt, and I said, "I know lovie, mine are too." Isolation can be really lonely. Sometimes it feels like life is moving along, and we are just stuck. I love Chris for humoring me, he knew we weren't going to the mall. I love Taylor for being wise beyond her three precious years, and I love Max for being such a good sport. 12 more treatments. 12 more treatments. 12 more treatments...

Forever Changed.

I'm sure we all know the feeling of being smacked in the face....by accident....during a sport....what have you. That feeling where a rush of tears floods to your eyes, and like it or not, you are crying. Yesterday felt like that for me. Over and over, I felt the smack and the rush of tears. It wasn't from any sort of injury, just plain hurt. At one point Chris said, "You are losing it. You are rocking back and forth, and losing it." I was. And I will tell you why. Just a thin piece of curtain separated us from a six year old little girl that was just orphaned by her family. Left to battle cancer alone. I wanted to open the curtain and say, "You are coming with me. I am your mommy, and I will love you from now until the day I die. I will never leave you." But I didn't, I couldn't. I listened to a foster care worker get to know her, and prayed for her little broken heart. Some parents release their rights so their children can receive care from the state, some parents just don't want to deal with it, but either way, children get the short end of the stick. I gave her suckers and stickers, and haven't stopped thinking about her since we left.

Later in the day, Taylor finally found some relief from her anti nausea meds and drifted off to sleep. I always feel a sense of relief when she is able to escape the day through sleep. Chris was reading, and I was still listening. Above the whimpers from kids, hushes from parents, and bustle of nurses, I heard an eight year old boy saying, "I HATE you. I HATE you for always bringing me here!" His mother was stumbling over her words, broken, and softly crying "I have to bring you here." I wanted to go hug her. I wanted to get her some tea, wrap a blanket around her shoulders, and say "I know, I know, it's ok, you are doing an amazing job." But, I didn't. I walked past their corner, and asked her if he could have a sucker, and she nodded. He was happy with three...bless his heart.


I walked around the corner, and past a private room.There was a teen boy in there sleeping, and his parents were hugging. I felt an immediate sense of worry. Why was he isolated? Why did they look so heartbroken? Please let him be ok.... I went to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. I looked at myself in the mirror, not the way I used to..... I wasn't smoothing my hair into place, or dabbing on some (much needed) lip gloss...I was looking myself square in the eyes and telling myself  "Six more hours, you can do it. Fifteen more treatments, you can do it. Clear scans, clear scans, clear scans. Thank you God."

On our drive home I told Chris that I am changed forever now. I was a girl that would quickly change the channel when a St. Jude commercial came on, or heaven forbid I heard Sarah McLachlan start singing "Arms of an Angel," and an abused animal came on the tv screen. I couldn't look, it hurt too much. But now they are not faces on a tv screen, they are just on the other side of the curtain from us, with a name and a story. I can't change the channel, and I don't want to. I just want to help them.

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In the end....

I believe,that in the end only kindness matters. I believe, that you should always give more than you get. I saw a Kmart commercial today about a "Layaway Giveaway," and it featured this really fortunate looking woman, and flashed a big sceen tv and some other non-essential items. I wondered about the people who have three perfect toys on layaway, for their three perfect children. Those who are working an extra shift to make sure their kids know that Santa did not forget them. It hurt my heart. It made me feel guilty, and reminded me that the best way to give is without waiting for a thank you, a pat on the back, or a confirmation of how wonderful you are.

Last week, while we were staying on the oncology unit, Tay's little neighbor touched my heart. She is 6, with stage 4 leukemia. Her mom's neglect broke my heart a million times during our stay. Our little neighbor spent most of her time alone, very sick, and calling out for her mommy that was....unavailable. I tried hard not to judge her mom. There is no handbook for this, and I am very blessed to have a huge support system, but you better believe that when my baby is calling for me.... I will be there. She..... wasn't. So, I took care of her. We opened up the curtain, shared toys, songs, and anything else that would pass the time. At one point she was getting sick, so I stood by her bed,  and dabbed her head with a cool cloth. She looked up and said "you're pretty," and then slumped back in her bed. I wasn't pretty. I was tired and disheveled, but she saw kindness, and that was pretty to her. What a doll. What a precious, little, kind thing. The next day she was moved to isolation due to illness, and she cried out for me. It shocked me and broke my heart. Just two days after meeting this little girl, and she cried out for me. It opened my heart....my eyes.... to so many little kids...right here in Indiana who need loving parents and guardians. So I continue to wrestle with this...what can I do? How do I help the masses? It will come to me....and one day I will find a way to GIVE BIG.

 



Happy...

I can sleep. I have these beautiful night sleeps now. I don't wake in the night and cry myself back to sleep. I don't go peek in my little girls room, and beg God to let her outlive me. I cry happy tears. I don't cup my cries in my hands, or mask my eyes with my sunglasses. My tears don't burn my cheeks anymore. I have renewed strength. I know that I can fight through these last 5 months of treatment, and have my eye on the prize. I can see the light. I got my hair done, I made myself doctor appointments, I planned a date with Chris, and I bought some jeans that fit. I started caring again...... about me. I can't stop smiling. I can't stop dreaming of all that is to come. Clear scans, my gosh clear scans.



Patience.....

There is an old wives's tale that says NEVER to pray for patience.... good grief, I made this terrible mistake, and I have been tested. I am so tired. I work, love, pray, work, and work some more. I can't sleep at night. I pray myself to sleep every single night. I fall asleep mid conversation with God, thanking him, and begging him for the life of my girl. I'm exhausted.

So, I prayed for patience. The next day Taylor challenged me on everything. It's so hard to distinguish what is her being three, and what is her not feeling well. I have said it once, and I will say it again, that I am still trying to raise a lady. We still have rules, and our timeout corner knows Taylor well. My sweet little chunk of a baby boy has turned into a ferocious biter! He has the ability to make me swear like a sailor in the middle of Target while I unhinge his little jaws off my hand. Patience.

But today.....today was my ultimate test in patience. Taylor and I headed to the hospital around 7:30am. We had a really rough visit. There are days where Tay has fight in her. She gets MAD when the nurses do painful things, and then she bounces back. And then we have days where she doesn't..... and those days just break my heart in half. She gets quiet, somber, stops smiling, cries with no sound, it's awful. Today was that kind of day. On our way out, she was lounged back in her stroller, hugging her blankie, not speaking.  I just had to end things on a good note. She didn't want to say goodbye to the fish, didn't want to throw coins in the wishing pond (this has never happened)......so I pulled out my last trick, and knowing she is a girl after my own heart, I offered to go SHOP. We rolled into the hospital gift shop, and I said, "You were a brave girl, and mommy is SO proud of you, so you may pick out a few special things, let's shop!" She was SO excited, she clapped her little hands, and I knew she was smiling behind her mask. As quickly as I heaved a sigh of relief, I heard, "Well THAT is a slippery slope!" from a fellow gift shopper. I was stunned. It felt like this woman had reached out and slapped me. A SLIPPERY SLOPE? She was judging me, insinuating that I am starting a bad habit with my child. How dare her?! Of course I wanted to go into mama bear mode......but I didn't. I let her judge me. I know my heart. God knows my heart. I looked her square in the eyes and said, "Tay Tay, ANYTHING you want, let's shop!" This is not the first time, and it will not be the last time that people judge me. Patience.



I hope you dance...

We have started living again. There, I said it. I am letting go of all my guilt for keeping Taylor home and isolated. I just didn't know what to do. I didn't know what was safe. But we started living, and it feels GOOD. I scheduled play dates. I started going places. And today she danced. I watched her totter on her tippy toes, leap through the air in her precious pink tights, and interlock her little fingers with a little girl in her class to hold hands. She made a new friend. My achy, sore heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest with joy for her. Tears were rolling down my face as I watched her prance about. This is her thing, her happy place. I found it.

Of course it was straight to the tub when we got home. Of course I know she may get sick. But we must start living. No matter what the outcome of all this is, we must live life out to the fullest every day in between. It feels good to have a reason to get dressed, to talk with other moms, to feel normal again. Scans are less than a month away, and I needed something to lift the gloom. To push away the dark cloud hovering over us. I can't tell you how much I want this to be over for her. There is so much to do in this short life. In the mean time, we are living.

 

To be a fly on the wall.....

Just in case anyone was in need of a good laugh, I thought I would share my morning with you. I get way too much credit for being some kind of super mom, so my hope is that this little story will put a smile on your face, and let you see my human side. Enjoy!

Now let me set the scene.....
My house is an absolute disaster. After 12 hours at the hospital yesterday, I just needed the house clean. A thought crossed my mind that I should forgo all birthday/anniversary/Christmas gifts, and ask Chris for 6 months of a cleaning service to come, it is that bad. I decided to take things room by room, and let the kids play along side me. I moved all our kitchen chairs into the family room, and made a fort for the kids to play in while I mopped. Things were going well, until the doorbell rang and all hell broke loose. Our sweet, wouldn't hurt a fly until you ring our doorbell dog charged the door in full attack mode. Max, although not walking, slithered all 31 pounds of himself to the back of my legs and began pulling himself up. I opened the door, and our dog raced right past the Fed Ex man, and out the front door. I am yelling, "Samantha Suzanne Magdzinski!!! GET. BACK. IN. THIS. HOUSE!" At the same time, Max gave a final tug on my yoga pants to stand himself up, and down they went.....Max and my PANTS. I locked eyes on the fed ex man....we both knew what just happened.....I yanked my pants back up, as Taylor informs me that we don't show our undies to people....it's private. Yes, it sure it. Nothing I had planned on showing our Fed Ex man that I see on a weekly basis. I brushed past him, Max on my hip, and Taylor standing in the doorway. I looked back and said, "Do NOT lock that door Tay" and I hurried to the neighbors to grab Sammie. I was barley off the front step and the door closed and clicked behind me....

Thank goodness for hidden out door keys, time out corners, and nap time! I would love to be a fly on the wall and hear our Fed Ex man's version of the story. I am sure it started out, "So, let me tell you about this CRAZY woman I deliver to every week...." 


Have a wonderful weekend!