Brave

It seems ironic to me that so much of my life right now reminds me of my first time at an amusement park. We often think of the fun we have on the rides, rarely looking at the scary and frightening side of the event. And when the ride is over, the adrenaline spent, we anxiously look forward to the time we get to go again. We forget, in our excitement, the fear that we felt before the experience. We either love the ride, or hate it. There is hardly ever a middle ground on rides.

The first time Jenni and I rode the Musical Express we had been talking during the previous rides. I didn't really know what the ride did, I just knew it wasn't a ride a shorter child could ride, and since I was now an "adult" rider, I was going to do it. We found an open car, got all buckled in, and began talking some more. The ride operator gave their memorized mono-tone required speech and the ride began to move. It was a circular track that started slow and picked up speed at an incredible rate. I was on the outer seat and was holding on for dear life, not wanting to lose my grip and smash Jenni, who was plastered to the opposite side of the seat than I. I was laughing so hard at how weak I felt holding on to the rail. I would never have been able to hold out normally, and my laughing wasn't helping the matter any. Eventually my strength gave out and I careened straight into Jenni's hip. I know it's not possible, but it felt like we became one person as close as we got in all of that speed. The ride eventually came to a complete stop. I looked over at Jenni. With a smile in her eyes, she said, "Let's do that again. I get the outside seat this time." I was a bit breathless and dizzy, so I said we should go on another ride and give me a bit of a break.

 The real reason was because I was just scared. That ride whipped us around so fast, that it was almost painful. I was worried about being the one that was smashed. I knew I was a complete wimp, I just didn't want Jenni to know. What if I didn't smile after the ride? What if that made her feel bad? What if I broke a hip and we had to leave to take me to the ER?! I'm a bit of a worrier. Always have been, always will be. Anyway, I just needed a break to clear my head, take a breath, psych myself up, and head back in for more. And guess what? It's one of my favorite rides at Lagoon. 

This last Round was pretty hard to watch. I felt like we were being whipped around at a too-fast speed. I felt worried that I was going to let go of the rail, squishing Caden with my worry and anxiety. That I was going to let him down. I wasn't prepared for the ride. It's not like I could have watched to see what was coming so I couldn't prepare, but I still felt unprepared just the same. And, obviously he's not asking to go on the ride again, but another ride is coming. And I'm scared. So...I took a break. I left Randy with Caden on Saturday morning and came home to be with the younger kids. I surprised the girls by being the mommy and not the daddy that came to get them. I rested as I waited for my Mom, Dad, and Grandma Fuller to come for Spring Break and a visit to Caden. I chilled all night, laughing at the antics my kids wanted to show off. I got emotionally uplifted at an amazing Sacrament meeting this morning, where it felt like every song and comment was just for me. I got to hold my favorite 7- month old and a tiny 7- week old, and then came home to take a 3 hour (deep) nap. Sleep that I desperately needed. I will head back tomorrow to trade places with Randy and hope to come home with Caden on Wednesday for our week away from Seattle. I'll continue my break, take a much needed breath, psych myself up, and begin our last Chemotherapy ride. And I'll make it to the other side of that ride with a smile on my face. Not because it was fun, by any means, but because we conquered that ride in amazing fashion! Wind- blown hair and all!!

After the feeding tube was placed on Friday, the nurse looked at Caden and told her how proud she was of him and how brave he was. This started a fresh wave of tears as he said, "I wasn't brave." Even if I wasn't an emotional wreck, this comment would have still felt like a bullet to the heart. Caden saw his fear and tears as weakness. He didn't feel brave. I collapsed at his side, took his wet cheeks in my sweaty hands and implored him to see the real situation. It doesn't matter that he was scared, it doesn't matter that he wanted to lock himself in the bathroom, it doesn't matter that he cried. The thing that matters was that he sat in that chair and allowed that tube to enter his tender nose one more time. He faced his fears. I had seen this saying on Pinterest just a few days before, so I easily quoted it for him. 

I'm going to be like my son. I'm going to remember his example. I have allowed myself a good cry. I have taken a step back and found myself again. We are halfway done with this whole thing. Not just chemotherapy, but the surgery as well. Only 2 more months (if all goes well) and our ride will come to a full and complete stop. I can be brave. Because I know that doesn't mean I'll be without fear, but that I do it anyway. I will try a little harder to be a little better. I will smile more and complain less. I will hold on to that rail. I won't let go. And maybe, when he's cleared for activities, we'll go to Lagoon and ride these rides for real. For fun! And smile at the end.