Fast forward to now. I am sitting in my bed writing with barely the energy to type. The last few days have been hard on this momma. I think that the emotional wear and tear, the stress, the fear is all catching up to me. I am trying so hard to be grateful that we are home, but I think part of the challenge is that we ARE home. When we were here before, Kicker was healthy. Our life was so good, so amazing and I remember always thinking, that I
smooch. I want to have our friends over for dinner without asking if anyone is sick or has been sick. I want to go to play dates at the park. I want to look on Instagram without crumbling to pieces, being remained of everyone else's healthy children and perfect lives. I want to sleep through the night without waking in fear of the what ifs. I want to study prenatal nutrition and blood chemistry, not research cancer treatments and the toxic effects of chemotherapy. I want to have the energy and excitement to plan my beautiful little girls 5th birthday party. I want to have light-hearted conversations with my husband, dreaming about our next 'adventure.' I want to go to bed with him, happy, every night and joke like we always used to. I want this headache to go away-you know the crying headache, where the front of your head throbs due to the contraction of your face from the constant release of tears.
The one who's broken
The one who's torn me apart
You struck down to bind me up
You say You do it all in love
That I might know You in Your suffering"
The sites and sounds of my baby boy being held down and drugged while I sat helpless in the corner of the room, haunts me. I can't take much more of watching my baby go through this. The lumbar puncture (LP) is a procedure where they give him two meds to consciously sedate him, and then lay him on his side and use a needle to administer chemo into his spine. He has had at least 10 of these in the last four months. The last few LP's have gone terribly. The sedation meds don't seem to work for him, his body metabolizes them too quickly. So he just lays on his side and screams for his mommy, the kind of crying/screaming that I had never, ever heard come out of him until this all began 4 months ago. With a minimum of 2 nurses holding him down and the doctor behind him performing the surgery, he is terrified. I just close my eyes and try so hard to pray, but usually I can't even form a thought, let alone words. My body aches from the tension and the front of my neck is always soaked from tears. Every damn day, I can't help but ask for the millionth time, "why him God, why him?" Every time he gets accessed (a large needle going into the port in his chest) he screams and just has the look in his eyes of despair and fear. We keep asking the nurses if he will 'get used to it,' and each time we are reminded "that he is only 3, so of course it is going to be terrifying." So many people have told me that I am so strong and that if anyone can handle this, its me. Although their words are kind and well meant, I don't feel strong and I sure as hell don't believe I am fit to handle this.
Though You take from me
I will bless Your name
Though You ruin me
Still I will worship
Sing a song to the one who's all I need"
Last week we began our most intensive phase of treatment yet. He is going to be pumped full of all kinds of chemo drugs-one in particular that is known for causing heart damage. He is supposed to loose his hair, not feel well and become neutropenic, almost 'guaranteeing' a hospital stay. Although I try hard to stay positive and not believe any of that, it is so scary. I am completely aware that I have lost track of 'living 15 minutes at a time.' Surely that is part of the reason I have been a
Hard times make the good times better and we DO have more good days than bad. For that I am grateful. My son is healthy and strong, considering he has cancer. In 3 years from now, we WILL be through this and he will have kicked cancers ass. Even now, I can look back and be reminded of all the answered prayers, the amazing progress Kicker has made, and see the overwhelming support we have. To have family and friends behind us is a huge blessing. To see pictures of people holding #teamkicker signs is so motivating. The messages, cards, gifts, donations, have truly had our jaws on the floor and helped piece back together our broken hearts. We have so much to be thankful for and I know, deep down….deep, deep, deeeeeeep down, somewhere, that God has intention and a plan for our lives that included this journey from the beginning. I