Yellow

It seems like 2017 flew by.  When I consider all that has transpired since finding that tumor on Thanksgiving day 2016, how much we fought, how much we lived, how much we lost, I can't help but think that 2017 was our defining year.  Our lives are forever changed by 2017.

Our family journal came together in an unusual way.  We'd seen a friend's blog {Nate and Rebecca} and Randy immediately began researching how to get one.  I am not technologically savvy (like, at all!) so I really didn't want the fuss.  I love how they looked, and everything about them, but I didn't want to add the stress of technology into it.  I could see myself getting emotionally invested, super excited, ready to give it my all, only to be held back by technology and feel immense disappointment and failure.  Why even start?  I loved theirs from afar and continued to take care of my three babes, with one on the way very soon.  November 5th, 2007, Randy started our blog... and made me sit down to learn and take over.  And, as you can clearly see, I have not stopped.

The main reason for our blog was to document little things that our kids were doing, so that our Grand-kids could see what their parents were like when they were their age.  I also wanted my kids to see that I cared and loved them deeply from the second we found out we were pregnant, that I recognized how remarkable they were from the second I heard their first tender cries, that I gave raising them my whole heart, my every thought and concern, and that I love/loved being their mother.  It has not always been easy, it can be beautiful and wonderful even if it is heinously hard, and our stories need to be told in truth for both the glorious and the heartbreak.  We do not need to sugarcoat our stories-- "If life were easy, it wouldn't be hard."

Since we have lived away from our families for almost our entire marriage, I wanted a way for the Grandparents to know their Grand-kids.  I see them as the funniest, the sweetest, the most trying at times, and the most amazing kids-- I wanted their Grandparents to know them, even if they cannot see them on a regular basis.  Growing up knowing my Grandparents is one of the things I cherish about my childhood.  I have many fond memories with each of my Grandparents.

Around the time we received our purple 2013 book from the printers, Caden was diagnosed and our blog took on a few additional purposes.  Not only was this a central hub to give information on how The Boy in the Bed was doing, how we were all doing, it was therapy for me.  So many times I have come to this blog to pour out my entire soul, to have someone understand how indescribable it can feel to be where we were or have been, to share our faith, and to write our story so that we will never forget the details that mold us into who we are.  I have only gone back to look at my cancer care words one time.  I sought a specific post for a talk I was asked to give in church.  I copied and pasted it into my talk, only reading it that one time at the pulpit.  It is still much too hard for me to read from our yellow books.

When it came time to print our 2014 books (we needed two books, that year was so full!), one of the color options that we hadn't already chosen was yellow.  Since Childhood Cancer is represented by the yellow ribbon, we thought it would be appropriate.  We hoped it would be the only one.  July 2015 decided our book color for us: our lives were touched by cancer once more-- our book would be yellow.  2014, 2015, 2016: Yellow, all.  When you look at the books displayed on the shelf, it is yellow that catches your eyes first.  It is yellow that takes up the most space.  It is yellow that dominates.  That is how cancer has felt-- dominating, overtaking, overshadowing.  I desperately wished that yellow would end.  But not in the way that it has.  Our last yellow book will be sent to the printers in two days.  And it breaks my heart.  Oh, how it breaks my heart.  We have lost one purpose for this blog.  Forever.  Yellow has been my favorite color in the whole world since I was five.  It still is, but not for the same reason.  Now, it reminds me of Caden.

Ten years.  That's how long we have had a blog.  Ten years!  And yet, as I sit here today, it feels much the same as it did a decade ago-- I feel hesitant to write.  Not because of technology now, but because of my sorrow.  It is hard to find joy, sometimes, when my heart hurts this much.  Like those tentative years long ago, I will continue for those that I love.  I will write for my Grand-kids, I will write for my babes, I will write for our families, and I will write for myself.  No longer will it be mostly about cancer, I will once again write about our amazing, magically mundane, everyday lives, our treasured memories of The Boy in Heaven, and how it feels to move on after the death of a remarkable, extraordinary child.

One day I will read our yellow books.  Until then, we will continue to Come What May~ And Love It!