I wish I could say I was never scared. I wish I could tell you that my faith in God is so strong and so unwavering, that my trust in Him and in His plans has never faultered. I wish I could tell you that I never asked Him why, never got angry at Him, never told Him He couldn't have Nora...as if she was ever anyone else's child to begin with...
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| Nora's favorite ride at Idewild |
We had a scary last 2 weeks. On Friday, June 29th, we were all packed up for camping. I was driving up Burchfield Road, my mind only on moving the food for the weekend from the kitchen to the camper, putting the bags of clothes in the truck, remembering the puddle jumpers, making sure I pack the girl's toothbrushes...my mind was anywhere except where it was about to be.
I heard my phone ring on the passenger seat. I had just hung up with Ad. He was supposed to pick something up at GE for me, and I assumed he had already forgotten what it was. I seriously rolled my eyes when I heard it ringing. But luckily, I looked before I swiped to answer it. It said Children's Hospital across the screen. It was 5:30pm, what in the world...
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| Walk for Childrens 2018 |
Dr. Friehling was on the other line. She asked how Nora was. I said she was great. She then sent every organ in my body into my legs. She told me Nora's urine had come back and one of the markers was too high. Nope. Not now. Not ever. This cannot be happening. It just can't.
I asked what could cause this. We went over some scenarios, none of which made me feel one iota better. She asked that I bring Nora back to Children's Monday for another sample. I agreed, and within a few minutes, I was pulling into our driveway. I can't even be sure how I got there through the sobbing.
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| Nora the Warrior |
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| Heidi the Best Big Sis |
Adam got home, and we cried. We prayed. I asked him how on earth were we supposed to go camping with friends at a time like this? Our whole world is hanging in the balance, and there is NOTHING we can do but wait. We talked about it and agreed that we had to go. The girls would be crushed if we didn't, and staying at home wouldn't change anything or make us feel any better. So, slowly and through a thick fog, I packed up the rest of our camping supplies. What a lonely drive. Nora was asleep, and Adam and I took turns quietly crying to ourselves, trying to shield our eyes and disguise our sniffs from Heidi.
It actually was a nice weekend. (We have some great friends and our girls had the time of their lives). Of course, we never spent a second not worrying, but we did laugh. We got to talk about things other than pediatric cancer, and we got to spend the weekend immersed in our girls. There was no better place we could be.
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| Camping with Friends! |
On Monday, I took Nora to the Frog clinic at Children's and we left her pee. I can now honestly admit that I talked to Nora's urine sample. I begged the HVA level to be normal. I asked that it give my girl life and strength. I prayed over it, and then I closed the cap and left it in the window with her name and birth date across the front. I couldn't stop looking at it, willing it to be OK.
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| Just dropped off my pee...gotta see the trains! |
I knew it would be a long week, and boy was it ever. Even with 4th of July in the middle, those days crawled by-getting longer and more excruciating as they passed. Every time my phone buzzed or dinged, my heart sank just a little more. I can't really describe what it is like to wait for a phone call like this. The type of call that could change every single piece of your life. This isn't new to us. These periods of waiting...wondering how on earth the world around you is still moving, as if nothing has happened. How has the earth not actually stopped turning, because it sure feels that way? The nerve of it, really...and on top of that, I am expected to go to work? To function normally at all? To have conversations, make dinner, play games, read bedtime stories as if nothing has changed? These are the days that I know I am stronger than I give myself credit for.
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| 4th of July fun on the deck... |
I bend and I break and I cry (man, do I cry), but I get through. I read those stories and I put the bubbles in the bath water, and while I am having those conversations, I am praying. I always wonder if other moms, the ones who know first-hand how fragile their children's lives really are, if they also plead with God. If they attempt to make deals and promises, knowing full well that's not how it works. But in those moments where the helplessness takes over, and desperation is closing in on your throat, am I the only one who says things like, "I will never talk bad about another person, swear or lose my temper, etc if she can just get through this." ...just in case that would sway Him to put the cards back in my favor. I know it seems silly now, and as I type it, it makes me cringe, but it's the truth. And until you are faced with this type of reality, you never know what you will do. Of that I am sure.
SO... I will fast forward through the longest days of 2018 to share with you that this post ends well. Dr. Friehling called Tuesday night to tell me that Nora's recent sample (yes, the one I spoke to, prayed over and secretly threatened) was normal! She said the high HVA could have been caused by diet or been a lab error, and there is no way to know for sure which it was, but summer can go on as planned. Her next oncology appointment isn't until September, but we will drop a pee sample at the Frog in August, just to be diligent.
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| Holding baby Jameson after church |
I am a faithful servant of the Lord. I trust in Him and I love Him more deeply than I can explain with words, but I am also human. I have countless flaws and weaknesses, and in times like these, they sure do show their ugly colors for the world to see.
Trust must be tested, or it is meaningless. I could say that I trust something or someone, but if there is never doubt or temptation or a test of it's strength, is there really worth in it? I wish my faith didn't need tests like this, but I know it must. Being a parent requires trust and faith of all kinds, but being the parent of a child with cancer requires a new level of those things...a level I strive to reach every single day. The plan in place for Nora (and for Heidi) is one that has very little to do with me or Adam, or earth for that matter. My girls were chosen to be mine for a time, and I don't have a heck of a lot of say in just how long. I so wish that I did. The human in me wishes I knew the plans, the future, the glory of who my children are in His eyes. But I will remain faithful, and trust in God that His plans are the ultimate good, for no one loves those two girls like He does, not even me (though I know I am at a verrry close second).
Facing my child's mortality is something that I am certain will never get easier. In fact, I actually imagine it will only get harder, as it has with our 2 scares so far this year. I have been reminded to stay grounded in my faith, and even though it can be a struggle (more often than I'd like to admit), I will never stop working on it. After all, faith is a living and breathing thing. If it's not growing and changing, it is dying. I will not let it die, and my girls will know and see just how alive it is!
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| Friends that are Family |
Thanks, Aunt Judy, for introducing me to this song. It got me through those 11 long nights of waiting...
