Happy New Year

I have spent the past year living in the right here and now. I couldn't look back, it was too painful. I couldn't look ahead, it was far too overwhelming. So I lived moment to moment, treatment to treatment, scant to scan. Today, I have found myself with that familiar lump in my throat, hurt in my heart, and sheet of tears glazing over my eyes because on new year's eve, you can't help but look back. Back to the bump, the pokes, the surgery, the diagnosis, more surgeries, leaving Max, chemotherapy, kids living, kids dying, radiation.....oh my gosh the hell of radiation, missing birthday parties, missing weddings, bad scans, good scans, isolation, and more chemotherapy. I can see myself dropping to my knees when she was diagnosed. I can see myself crying in the hospital bathroom until it was Chris' turn to go cry. I can see Chris and myself running through the halls of the radiation center to get our crying baby girl. I can see Max crying hysterically when my mom left after watching him for long periods of time, reaching for her and calling her mama. I can see Taylor...oh my gosh, and I pray that no parent ever has to witness their child suffer the way we have.

And in between all the heartache there was God's good grace, shining through, lifting us up, and carrying us through this nightmare. There was each and every one of you, throwing us a life preserver when we were absolutely drowning. My house was cleaned during our first long stay, my dog was washed, meals were brought, cards and gifts were sent, bills were paid, benefits were organized, smaller clothes for Taylor were left on my doorstep, hugs were given, and most of all,  millions of prayers were said. There were times, in the midst of my darkest days, I would feel complete and total peace, for a few moments my heart would stop breaking, and I know that was from all of you.

I called a friend the other day, in a rare chipper mood, and she said how great it was to see a glimpse of the "old Brooke". I know what she meant, the happy Brooke. I miss that Brooke too. Thank you for bearing with me. For waiting for me to come back. 2013 is about health and healing for us. Rebuilding our family, our friendships, marriage, and growing our faith. I can't wait to go on a date with Chris without the gloom of cancer hovering over us. I can't wait to really rest, and let go of all this heartache. I can't wait to stop torturing my girl every Thursday. But most of all, I can't wait to watch our sweet girl ring that bell, and get her life back. Happy New Year to you and yours.



Rule Breaker

I broke the rules today. Many of them actually. A plate broke and profanity raced off my tongue. Mommy fail. I meant to say "shoot" I promise. Taylor kindly informed me that ladies don't talk potty talk, and suggested I sit in time out until I could think of something nice to say. Clever little thing...I pulled up to our mall at 9:58am, it opens at 10am. "WHAT are we doing Mommy?!" Taylor asked me. "Max and I won't touch anything, we will just sit in the stroller, yaaay, the MALL!" she squealed. She knows the drill. Mask on, stay in the stroller, don't touch ANYthing. "I want to show you something." I told them. I raced them in, and they both starred in awe at the holiday decorations. We rolled up to an over sized chair and there sat Santa Claus. "SANTA?!!!" she squealed. We waved at Santa from behind the rope, and I saw the sparkle come back in her eyes. I couldn't look at the workers starring at us, I just kept looking at Santa. I saw kindness and empathy in his eyes. He made our day with a simple wave. We rolled away and Taylor looked back and said, "Mommy, will Santa make me sick if I go see him?" Ouch. I explained that Santa was just waving today, maybe another time we would get closer. She seemed fine with that, and giggled to Max about seeing Santa. The piano was playing in the department store, and I let my little ones out to dance for a minute. (Max went straight to the shoe department and began throwing shoes across the room), but Taylor danced....and pranced.....and hopped around to jingle bells. It was 10:15am, and we were back in the car. I drove home with a lump in my throat. Everything hurts. I'm exhausted. 9 more treatments, 9 more treatments...

This too shall pass..

Mam, we are out, sorry... "Well, here is a plain doughnut, can you just throw a few sprinkles on there for me?" No, I'm sorry mam, I don't do the sprinkles. "Really? Really." Hi, I'm Brooke, and I cry in public at really inappropriate times. My girl just wanted a white sprinkle doughnut. I worried that it was the only thing she may eat today, that the chubby cheeks from two weeks of no chemo would wither away. Those dark circles under her eyes have re-appeared, and the little twinkle in her eye has dimmed. It's torture to watch. I wish I could take her and Max to see Santa, attend holiday parties, maybe even just go out to eat. But we can't. Just a few more months, but my body feels like dead weight, I have a constant lump in my throat, I'm exhausted. I look at her beautiful face and remind myself that this isn't about me. This is her story, her journey, and she suffers much more than I do. This too shall pass.

Dance Class

"Mine is the one with the curly hair!" "Mine is the one with the pony tail!" "Mine is the blond!" And I say, "Mine is the bald one!" to the other moms in Taylor's ballet class. I watch her prance around on her tippy toes on weeks that she is well enough to attend class, and it warms my heart to watch her shine. My eyes tear, and a lump gets caught in my throat every time I watch her clasp hands with the other girls, and squeeze them in a tight embrace to say goodbye. She is always the last to let go.  They head out to lunch, and we head home to isolation. Today the instructor asked each girl where they would go with their pretend butterfly wings while they did their morning stretches. Most of the little girls said to Disneyland, or a princess castle, or some other magical destination. It was Taylor's turn to share where she would go with her magical wings, anywhere in the whole wide world, and she whispered, "Here." and pointed to the dance room. My heart broke and swelled with pride at the same time. I love her grateful heart.



Burdens into Blessings..

"Mommy! Take it off, please take it off", my little one whimpered. I dropped to my knees in the middle of the pre-school hallway and pulled her mask off. I wrapped my arms around her. "I'm so sorry Tay." I whispered to her. I couldn't think of the right words to explain why kids were teasing her. I hate it. I hate this part of it. I wished the other mom would have dropped to her knees too and had a teaching moment with her child. "Mommy are you crying because I'm crying?" she asked me. I explained that when she hurts, I hurt, and that is a part of being a mommy. She said, "Well, I'm happy again, so you be happy too." I love her. I learn from her every day. It's moments like that I have fleeting thoughts that maybe she is beyond this earth, and I say a million tiny prayers that she won't ever be taken from me. The rest of our day was spent with our fingers intertwined, winking to each other in the rear view mirror, dancing around the kitchen to our favorite songs until it was time to pick her brother back up at school. She bravely walked back in, mask and all, down the long hall to get Max.He saw her, and his face lit up. I love that face. She wrapped her little arms around him. He accepts her exactly as she is, mask and all. I know all this makes us better, stronger people. It has cleansed my life, and let me let go of all things that don't matter. I know my children will be better people because of all of it, but that doesn't make it hurt any less in the moment. Later that same day Taylor asked, "Mommy, did you tell Max that kids were laughing at me?" I shook my head no, and she giggled, "Thanks!"  Of course I know kids will be kids. Feelings will be hurt, and hearts will be broken, but I hope that I teach my kids better than to make fun of those who are different. This journey changed us. We are not the same people thank goodness. We are stronger, wiser, and our hearts are softer. What an incredible blessing.

Happy Happy Day!

There was a time when I dreaded birthdays, aging, the whole nine yards. Now, it hurts my heart when people moan about another birthday passing. Really? Aging is a privilege! My three year old fought to earn her birthday this year, and I should be so lucky to have every fine line on my face...eek! Today is my birthday, and what a wonderful day it turned out to be. It feels like there was a divine intervention today, and I got a free pass. Taylor slept through the night without getting sick after ten hours of chemo! She woke up happy, and...knock on wood, has not been sick once today. Miss Thing even had a time out today, which means she was really feeling good. Our local radio station is doing a fundraiser for the Make A Wish Foundation, and asked me to speak on the radio to help raise money for our sweet girl's Disney trip. The wish was fulfilled in less than five minutes. Really?!  I'm still in shock. How many hearts has my little one touched? How many lives has this little warrior changed? My baby gets her wish, and of course there is nothing I want more than her happiness, and for her to be so blessed to have a 32nd birthday someday too.



Thankful

We have come so far. I look at my bald little beauty, and watch her lashless little eyes still sparkle despite all she has gone through. She is now a little girl, wise beyond her years, and has changed the hearts of so many. I walked past the bell today....the one I won't dare touch for 10 more treatments. I think about it ringing, and it makes me cry. We have so much to be thankful for. My gosh, thank goodness I found that bump. Thank goodness we have access to one of the best children's hospitals in the country. Thank goodness chemo and radiation are working. Thank goodness we have the most amazing friends and family who have cheered us on the whole way through this. We have ten treatments left after today! I can show Taylor on two hands. I can't tell you how amazing that feels. A nurse said, "I can't believe you are almost done, this has gone so quick!" But not for us, not for Taylor. While life goes on for most, we are still here, fighting for our girl, and so incredibly thankful all this is saving her life.