Politics

I have made it an absolute point to never discuss politics.This has been proven to be one of the best decisions I have made in the past 14 years. When I see people fighting over candidates and opinions...the name-calling, the shaming, the completely uninformed ridiculous statements made-especially these days in the undeniable INK that is social media/the internet in general-I remain completely confident that this has been the right choice. If I ever tell you who I think you should vote for-aliens have taken over my body. It is not me. That will never be me.
That being said-I feel that every election (including and especially the presidential ones) that I have been able to cast a vote in, the candidates are more "who can I tolerate the most off of this sad list of names and sure-to-be-broken promises" than they are "who is capable and honest and trustworthy." These questions and concerns are more important to me as each day passes, watching my girls grow up in a beautiful country that has the potential to be so much more than it is at the moment. But it is still a wonderful place. We are all so truly blessed to be Americans. To be born into this life and this country. No matter who wins this increasingly sad "race to the top," we all have the ability to make a difference-in our own lives and in the lives of our neighbors.

Bored at the hospital during Round 3

I am constantly reminded of this. Everyday. Sure, there is undeniable and often unavoidable evil in this world. But there is also good. Truly kind, amazing people. I am fortunate to know (and love) many of these people. I cannot tell you how many times I have been moved to tears by the kindness of friends and strangers alike in the past 2 months.

It would be easy to become overwhelmed in our new normal. The constant medical calls, bills, appointments, prescriptions, questions, opinions...I could go on. Some days, it does get the best of me. I question why us? Why Nora? Why *effing* cancer? But usually, her bright smile and seemingly unfazed attitude give me the ability to see past the crappy circumstances and see the true blessings we have in our lives. And trust me, WE. ARE. BLESSED. Our life these days is definitely more about perspective than it is about the individual cards in our hand. I am realizing more and more to look for the good. Even on my worst days, there is good. On the occasional days when I can't see it for myself, there is almost always someone to remind me of it.  I am learning (slowly) to let the negative opinions go and hold on to the messages of hope and strength. I am stronger than I ever realized. I just wish it didn't take this for me to notice it.

In the atrium @ Children's Hospital after Round 3

Sure, I cry. More than I would like to admit. Usually when I am alone, but sometimes when I am in a crowded place. My faith is strong, but it waivers when we are in the hospital-alone and scared. My outlook is hopeful, but I still worry about the future. I continue to pray that by the end of May, I am updating this blog with wonderful news of healing and confirmation that all of these treatments were the right thing to do. I constantly pray for our old normal to be our normal again, where our biggest worry is what to make for supper.

But, in the meantime, we will be living our lives. This is our new normal and we're not taking any of it for granted. We will see you at birthday parties and weddings, play dates and church. Until we hear differently from Nora's doctors and oncologists, life will go on as planned. If you are noticeably ill or contagious, we might keep our distance a little (we have common sense), but please don't act like we are on death's door. We're not. Nora is nothing if she is not strong. We are the parents of two beautiful girls who can and will experience beautiful lives.  To quote my dad's favorite movie "Get busy living, or get busy dying." We will be living.

Let's just pray that our new leader loves this country as much as Heidi loves her little sister. Because if that is the case, we will be in good shape for the next 4 years.

...though she be but little, she is fierce.

Round 3.

Here we are...back at Children's. It's day 2 of a 3 day stay. One of many on this new journey of ours. A journey that has been a true roller coaster-with good news and bad,  tears of both sadness and relief, and meeting wonderful, brilliant and caring people that I wish I could have gone my entire life not knowing. 

Today, we found out that Nora's absolutely amazing head oncologist, Dr. Shaw, has taken another position at a Children's Hospital in St. Petersburgh, Florida. I am terrified. If you have to hear the words "Your baby has cancer," you want to hear them from Dr. Shaw, or at least you want to hear that he will be the one taking care of your precious baby, seeing her through to remission and beyond. Even though he isn't leaving until the end of June, he reluctantly told us yesterday afternoon, fearing that we would find out through the grapevine. He told us how wonderful Nora looked, and how great she is doing, but the harsh truth remains-the man I put all of my earthly confidence in to save my baby is leaving. He will not be seeing this through. His expert opinion on her health and well-being expires in 2 short months. 

Nora will have a minimum of 8 rounds of chemotherapy. She will also need to have surgery to remove her tumor. A few scans and biopsies after round four (the first week of May) will determine the journey from that point on-but we will be fighting this fight until July at the earliest. July...it seems so far away, but I know it will be here before I know it. 

At least we have a great view...

I am envisioning good news. I do believe that her tumor has likely shrunk, and her stomach has definitely gotten smaller and softer. Anyone that has seen her can tell you that, including her doctors. She can (and loves to) put her feet in her mouth, and that NEVER could have happened 2 months ago. Not with that belly in the way. From the naked eye perspective, she is a picture of good health and to honest, shear beauty. I do believe things will be improved, but I cannot help my anxiety without seeing it myself. I need to see the scans. I need to see that tumor gone with my own tear-filled eyes. I need to see her liver without a single spot in it, and her lymph nodes clear and free of cancer. But, most of all, I need to see that bone marrow. It needs to be healthy. It needs to be ready to support my gorgeous baby as she learns to crawl and walk, and keep up with her big sister in our backyard. I pray so hard that it is healing. 

So, we will be leaving here tomorrow night with a better idea of how our next few months will be lived. In and out of this place every 3 weeks. Continuing our routine of injections and antibiotics nightly.  Keeping things as normal as possible for Nora and Heidi. Normal. Not sure I even know what that means anymore. There is nothing normal about this. But if this "normal" will mean that Nora can eventually leave all of this in her past with no memory of treatments or pain, than give me this normal. But please give me hope and some semblance of peace in May. Prayers and positive thoughts for clear scans are welcomed and appreciated! There is not a prayer in this world that doesn't mean EVERYTHING to our family.

With big cousin, Ava

6. whole. months.

I seriously cannot believe that my baby girl is half way to her first birthday. A day that I pray is filled with cake and balloons (somewhat deflated, just the way she likes them), party hats and sunshine, laughter and good friends. I cannot wait to let her soak in a warm bath tub with bubbles or take a dip in her pappy and gramma's pool on a hot summer day. I can't wait to let her get dirty and wash mud and peanut butter out of her hair. I truly took all of these things for granted with Heidi. Never again.

Nora has given me so many gifts in these 6 months. So many moments to look forward to and so many memories to look back on in such a short time. The thing I look forward to the most is watching her grow alongside her best friend, Heidi.

The two of them already have such a bond. I never expected to see it so early. I was holding Nora on the couch a few days ago and Heidi crawled up on my other side and snuggled in. Without a word, she touched Nora's face in a very gentle (very non-Heidi) way and smiled. Before I could catch my breath from the cuteness overload, Nora returned the exact gesture and emotion. It might sound trite- but it was, in fact, the most precious moment of my 32-year life. I'm sure there will be plenty more where it came from. I am also sure that there will be plenty of times they will want to kill each other over a broken toy or a borrowed sweater. But for now-I will soak in these moments as deeply as I can and pray that they never end.

 6 months.  26 weeks. 183 days. Cases of diapers. Countless bottles. Never ending loads of laundry. Smiles every day. Milestones met. Belly laughs and rolling over and over. She has made our family whole. She gives us light and love when times are not easy. She gave us sisters and bonds that will never break. She continues to give us hope. Our little Nora gives us everything and more. We are truly blessed beyond measure.

 

Round 3 starts on Tuesday. Prayers are welcomed and appreciated!

Side note: My Relay for Life team's annual dance is tomorrow. This will be our 16th year doing this fundraiser. 240 tickets oversold in 8 days. To say it is a huge success would be an understatement. The dance continues to be one of my favorite nights of the year for many reasons. It is always emotional and powerful, sad and wonderful all at the same time. This year, my little superhero will make it onto the big screen. Hoping I can hold it together and be strong just like Nora. See? I am still learning what has taken her only 2 months to master.

Here's a link to my original blog about the ACS, in case you aren't familiar.

Round 2...done.

Welp, she did it! 5 months old and you wouldn’t have a clue she has endured 7 bags of chemo in the past 4 weeks. She is truly a bad ass, my Nora Melita.

Getting fluids before chemo.

We checked into the clinic on Tuesday, March 22^nd. It was busy. I hate that. Not because we had to wait, but because that means there are many others out there, just like Nora. I hate facing this fight: these dangerous drugs, my baby smelling like chemicals, the fear of the unknown, the anxiety of waiting for results.  9C is a wonderful place I wish I never knew about. It is a place of bravery, and of love and hope that I never want to see again. Oh, we'll be back. On April 12th-if all goes well- but I still fantasize about waking up on February 23rd and realizing this has all been one bad dream nightmare.

The morning after. Ready for the Easter Bunny!

Nora had her chemo treatments, and (like a BOSS), she maintained her smile and her appetite, proving to any lingering doubters that she is, in fact, the toughest 5 month old on planet earth. A few of her favorite nurses stopped in to see her and brought her an Easter basket (amazing) and snuggled her for a few minutes before moving on to another patient's "Last Chemo Treatment" party, complete with noise makers and confetti. Yes, I am already waiting with bated breath for Nora's party. And as soon as I know the date-I will be sure to announce it.

I think the thing that is hardest for me about this whole new life is the lingering question of WHY? Why her and not me? Why now? Why this? Just. Plain. Why? I know I am not supposed to ask why.  It doesn’t matter anyway. This is the hand we were dealt. This is the fight she is faced with, and asking a question like why is not going to change any of it. But I can’t help but ask. If there is a lesson I am supposed to learn from this, why does it have to involve Nora in such a brutally physical way? I’m not sure I’ll ever understand, and I hope one day I can come to terms with all we have been dealt and stop asking why. I pray that Nora’s resiliency persists and she continues to inspire masses of people, some of which she will never even meet.  I pray that peace finds its way back into our lives, and we can look back on this journey as a stepping stone in a great, full, healthy life for both of our beautiful girls.