best. day. ever.

So, I feel like most people have heard-either through Nora's facebook page or from a phone call or email, but Nora's slides came back clear. NO EVIDENCE OF DISEASE! We got that phone call that we have been waiting for since February 23rd. And of all days, it came on November 23rd. Exactly 9 months to the day from when this nightmare started, it finally ended.

Silly girl.

I am using the term ended loosely. I am completely overjoyed at this news. I have felt a sense of relief that I wasn't sure I could feel again, but I won't say that this has ended or that it is over. If I do say that, then I am lying. From MY standpoint, this will never truly be over. From the pediatric oncology standpoint, they may consider this over at 18. I am not in any way trying to be negative or look for pity, but the reality is that Nora will be in that MIBG scanner again. She will need constant follow-up blood work and urinalysis. She will need to have more bone marrow biopsies. I don't know all  any of the real details yet, but I do know that I am still scared. I will be scared for a very long time.

Thanksgiving toast to HEALTH

Pretty girls.

So...what do you do when you are scared everyday? You keep living. Some days are easier than others, but you try really hard not to let your worries affect your actions. You try to stop the fear from consuming you, because living like that isn't really living. And you know what? My baby girl didn't fight this terrible fight so that I would keep her on the sidelines or be afraid to live myself.

Thanks, Basil for the bath toys!

When I look at either of my girls, I see absolute beauty. The kind of beauty I see isn't anything people discuss when they talk about looks or features. I see the rawest, most complete beauty this world holds. The kind of beauty only an omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent being could produce. A literal light shines off of them into my life. And that is nothing I will let fear control.

Recovering from anesthesia is no fun at all.

I am so happy that my girl does not have to wake up on Christmas morning and have a blood draw scheduled. We can stay out late at a Christmas party and not rush home to give her a painful injection. My baby had her broviac taken out last week. If she has a fever, we can give her tylenol, we don't have to throw her in the car and rush her to Children's hospital. Breathing is easier. I wouldn't say we are at 100% lung capacity, but are any parents really ever there? I think my own mom worries about me at 33 and my sister at 35. Trying to look at this for exactly what it is:
the best news we have gotten since February 23, 2016.

Hair Up!

I continue to think about the impact this has had on our lives. Talk about a test of faith! I lost count of the number of times I looked directly at the ceiling/sky this year and asked out loud, "why?" I might have meant- why now, why this, why her...it doesn't matter what I meant. I knew why. Because it is a part of her plan, and therefore a part of our family's plan. I am so grateful that I was raised a faithful servant of the Lord. Because without Him, I'm not sure how I would have made it out of this ordeal in one piece. I don't know what is going to happen in the future, and that is scary. Of course I have heard the statistics. Of course I know the risks. But I also know that my girl is in the hands of her Savior always. And THAT is how I plan to make it through today, tomorrow and every day after.

Our general thoughts about our first bath...

Thank you. I could type it 1,000 times but it would never be enough. During that moment in my life where the punch to my gut was so hard, so deafening, I couldn't find air to breathe, you all lent me yours. The dinners, the cards, the messages, the surprise gifts, the gift cards, the letters, and most of all-the prayers...they kept us going. To use a quote from my new second-favorite show (nothing will ever beat out The Office), "You all took the sourest lemon ever handed to me in this life and turned it into something resembling lemonade." I never thought that would have been possible. 9 months of terrified. 9 months of tears. 9 months of sadness...but we made it. And that is because of our warrior family. This world is so broken. It needs a lot of help. I will never deny that. What I will deny is that humanity is gone. I will deny that goodness doesn't exist. I didn't mean to look for it, but it happened to me. I hope you never find yourself in these shoes, but if you do, I think the world will smile at you also. I know that my family will. No matter what.

Kennywood Lights!

and the kindness continues...
After work a few nights ago, I picked up the girls. On our way home, I planned to stop at the grocery store because it was Heidi's day to bring snack to school. Well, Nora fell asleep. Really not wanting to wake her in the bright, loud store, I dropped the girls off at home with Ad and went to the store alone. For any mom of youngsters, this is like a mini vacation, is it not? I took my time, talked to my mom on the phone, and slowly weaved in and out of each aisle. When I turned around, a woman with an incredibly kind face was standing there. She was the kind of pretty that doesn't need make-up to be radiant. She asked me if I was Nora's mom and she handed me a $50 gift card to the store we were standing in and said, "Merry Christmas." I have always pegged myself the person who doesn't react appropriately to surprises. I cry, smile, laugh at all the wrong/weird times. Typically, a gesture like this would have brought me to immediate tears. I still can't believe I didn't cry in that store. If you are reading this, kind Jeanie, I ugly cried the whole ride home. I told you I would.

If you are in my closest circle of friendship, you know I am OBSESSED with music. Almost any genre, but most important, lyrics. I think these lyrics do justice to the 9 month journey our family has been on this year. I dare you not to cry...