New normal

As we walked into the hospital this morning with all of the kids, I reminded then that they got to live "A day in the life of Caden." I soon realize that that was not true. Although they spent 8:40-3:30 in the hospital, it was actually a fun-ish day. Uno, Spot It, Mad Libs, and coloring kept us playing together, which was not always how it was. All-in-all, I think they got a glimpse into just how hard it can be to do that day-after-day. 

All Scans look great! We got a clean bill of health for the next three months. It was enlightening to see what Scan Days are going to be like. I wasn't worried, but it's good to have today out of the way. 

With all of the medical information out of the way, Sue began talking with us more as a friend. She began telling us how our "new normal" might be. While looking right at me, she said, "You are going to find yourself with a lot more time than you are currently used to. And with all of this new time, you may finally be able to process what you just went through. And it's quite possible you may lose it. It's what we call post traumatic stress. You're not crazy! It's normal!!"

Still looking only at me, she continued, "Life needs to begin slowly. Don't try to just jump into everything all at once. You may feel a bit lost in this new normal. It's ok to feel lazy. It's normal."

Looking to the boy on the bed, "Don't be hard on yourself. For the past 7 months, you've basically sat on your butt. You muscles are lax. Your body is taxed and tired. You will not be able to jump into activities that previously were easy. Take time to come back. Be forgiving of this amazing body you have."

And then she began explaining about a "syndrome" that she named Scanxiety. For the next three months, life is going to go on. But sometime in October, we're going to have to go back to Seattle Children's for another Scan. The results of that Scan will determine the following days, whether they be happy or stressful. The Scan will cause anxiety. Scanxiety. Even though it wasn't like that today, I already want the results from the next 10 Scans to be favorable! I understand that fear. "It's normal!"

All I know for sure: Caden has been cancer free for 18 days, we have a free three months to play, and together is our heaven on earth. Here's to our new normal. 

Hall Sounds

OH.MY.GOSH!! Have I got a party spot for you!! We stayed at THE BEST music hot spot of the century!! Where is this amazing night club that plays fresh beats ALL.NIGHT.LONG?!?! Come in close and I'll whisper in your ear. 

Embassy Suites Seattle!!!

I was so exhausted by the time we made it to our hotel, that as soon as we got all of the kids situated in their beds, I made myself comfortable and feel fast asleep. However, 5:30AM came mighty early with sounds of blaring music coming from the lobby. 

The hotel is built with all of the rooms around the perimeter, with each door opening out to the lobby/eatery. It looks beautiful as you walk in, but with new management asking for music to be played 24/7, it loses it's magic pretty fast. Funny thing is, I didn't notice the music as we checked in, but I sure noticed it this morning in my room. 

After a call to complain, they were pretty fast at turning it down. Still quite tired, I feel asleep. Only to be brought back to reality at 6:37AM by "Take Me Away." If only I could be so lucky!

So there you have it, the best kept secret of our generation. If you're looking for an all night music dance party, head on over to Embassy Suites Seattle for a rockin' good time!!

Cause who wants to go to a nice hotel to sleep, I ask you?!

Compare

Our plans have been more fluid in these past few months than they have been my whole life. So it's no surprise that they changed this afternoon in the blink of an eye. 

There was a glitch with scheduling that moved an echo from Wednesday afternoon to early Thursday morning. Since I had the CT Scans scheduled for Thursday and the port removal for Monday, I didn't want to have another day of travel. In fact, they will even check to see if there is a cancellation on Friday to get his port removed, just so I don't have another travel day. I LOVE Seattle Children's! Not only do they listen to what we want (The last two Rounds were our choice, not obligation) but, because they really try to accommodate schedules. However, it didn't much matter, the only appointment time they had open was 9:00AM. So, knowing I'm too tired recently to wake earlier than 7:00AM, Randy packed us up tonight for a stay in Seattle. 

As I reflect on the last week of 100% normal family life, enjoying the love in our Yukon as we travel together to one of our last big appointment days, I can't help but compare this beautiful drive to the one that changed our lives forever. 

One was rushed, the other lazy. One was scary, the other is happily anticipated. One was foggy winter, the other blue-skied perfection. One was travelled alone with a heavy heart and many tears, the other filled with laughter and games. One brought news of possible death, this one brings news of a cancer-free life. 

Each time I drove this road, I'd be reminded of moments from that first drive. Tears shed at this curve, a phone call from Randy with news near this bend... Each time I felt the anxiety of that day. The fear that gripped my heart and choked my breath. "A large mass in his liver," played over and over in my mind. I was SO scared! But that is changing tonight. Because I'm making new memories of this route. I've got happiness in my heart, love in my car, and a hand on my knee. I am with the ones I love on a trip of possibilities. 

Compared to that drive January 31st, I'm flying on Cloud 9!

Wound Tight Mother

I feel like the last few days have been nothing but run, run, run.  As soon as we heard that his ANC was high enough, we jumped up to clean and pack.  We jammed everything in the car, jumped in the car, and blazed down to Utah.  While there we tried to see everyone, but ultimately only had time for our two immediate families.  I had 100 people I wanted to see, but that just didn't happen.  When visiting Utah, that is when I have the biggest pull to move back to Utah.  And then Brennon's asthma kicks in full force and makes the decision for me.  I really do have a love/hate relationship with wind.

 Since we've been home, we unpacked the Yukon and just put everything on the kitchen counter.  And sat down.  Sprawled is more like it.  It felt SO good to be home.  To know that we are done.  That this time it is 100% done!  To know that there will only be day trips to Seattle instead of week trips.  To know that on Thursday we have a full day at the hospital.  I am actually giddy thinking of taking them all with me.  They may whine and complain, asking when we can go home, but I really want them to see that we didn't play or live-it-up when we were in Seattle.  That sitting in the hospital for hours was normal.  And boring.  And hard.  And sad.  That you see kids suffering far worse than you.  That you see mothers that look more tired than you.  And that we need to be grateful for our lives.  It's going to be a day that they will, hopefully, never forget.

 Every day has been planned to the absolute minute.  It is quite different from how I've spent my last few months.  I may have had many appointments that kept us in place for many hours, but when those appointment ended, we went back to the RMH and sat in our room for days.  So, to have multiple things to do and accomplish in one day, other than just one place, has been a challenge.  I find myself wanting to just go home.  To sit in the house that still has stuff on the kitchen counter and just play with my kids.  To just hold them in my arms, kiss their sweet cheeks, and just bask in their sunshine.

I remember a time when I felt suffocated in this house.  Often.  I would envision myself simply walking out the door without a backward glance the moment Randy walked in from out-of-town.  I would think about not even telling him where I was going, or when I was coming back.  I'd turn off my cell phone to have absolute silence.  I would imagine going to a restaurant of my choosing, ordering anything that I wanted, eating it the second it came without worrying if so-and-so had theirs cut.  I would moan as the first bite that entered my mouth was not only amazingly delicious, but also the perfect degree of warmness.  Because I was so overloaded with sounds in my head, I would appreciate the silence, never being sad that I didn't have a dinner partner.  Then, I'd go see a show that I'd been wanting to see.  I'd sit in the exact center of the theater, center of the row.  I'd pull up my feet and enjoy the dark before the show.  I'd enjoy the show without worrying that the kids were bored, or talking, or needing to go to the bathroom.  I'd simply watch the show without a glance to either side.  It would be wonderful.  My night would not end with the rolling of the credits.  Oh, no!  I'd walk out of the theater and straight into the book store.  I'd slowly walk through the isles, looking at the blurbs about what the books were about.  I'd look for the perfect one, purchase it, find a comfortable spot, and start my literary adventure.  Without interruption of any kind until the store closes.  But the night would not end then, either.  Since it's been hours since my amazing meal, I now need something sweet- Frozen Yogurt it is.  I'd get a little more than I normally would, I'd earned with after all.  By the time I made it home, Randy would have the kids in bed, the house completely clean, the candles lit, the soft music playing, and be anticipating my arrival to give me a massage.  He'd quietly listen, while massaging, as I told him of my overwhelming sense of suffocation with all that is required of me.  How sometimes I just need a break from life.  How sometimes a night out doesn't feel like enough.  That a week in Hawaii may not be enough.  And then he would hug me, tell me I was doing an amazing job as a wife/mother/housekeeper.  And since it was always a daydream, he'd allow me to go to bed super early and wake up super late.  I always feel tired, after all.

But today I feel different.  I still have dishes, laundry, bathrooms, vacuuming, meal prep, and all other responsibilities that I need to do.  Those things are not going to just disappear because we went through a huge trial.  Dang it!  But my focus of what is really important in my day-to-day has changed.  I know I still need to do those things, that they will wait around forever for me, but I'm not worried about getting them all done in one day.  I'm not as worried that if someone stops by unexpectedly and sees the mess we are living in.  I imagine that they will not be able to look past the love I am getting from my kids being held in my arms. They will not see the heaping kitchen sink because they will be distracted by the giggles from my children.  I was lost before.  I forgot, without really realizing it, how short a time we have with our kids.  And not just kids that may die, but all kids.  I was married 23 days after I turned 19.  If the same holds true for my own daughter, I only have 8 more years and a few days with her in my home.  That is not enough time to do all that I want with her.  Childhood is not enough time to do all that I want if my only goal is a clean house.

I read an article today that touched me.  It was about a tightly wound mother.  I felt that way.  I felt like I couldn't turn off my brain to sleep thinking of all I had to do.  Thankfully, things have changed for me.  I know that it's the complete lack of sleep for the past few months that has me instantly asleep the moment my head hits the pillow, but I hope it's a permanent change as well.  Because I want to put aside my own OCD needs of a perfect house and focus on what is really important.  My neglected, starved-for-mommy babies.  I'm grateful for the reminder I was given.  I'm grateful I have been given five amazing children to rear and love.  I don't want to lose sight of them again.

The article ended, "Isn't it funny how parenting works out?  It's just so loud, even when you are asleep.  You can never turn parenting off.  It's a good thing it's what we always wanted, isn't it?"

First Day

Day number one of our summer vacation at home!!

Music

While on our Chuck-Wagon Dinner for Grandma Griffin's 80th birthday party, someone suggested singing songs.  There were a few that were sung that I'd never heard of, but we enjoyed listening to those that did know the song.  They all tried to remember a song that was sung many (about 20) years ago while camping together, laughing about the new verses they made up just three years ago at Grandpa Griffin's 80th birthday party.  One verse was even about Randy and Steve!  Surprise, surprise.

As if on cue, a few people started to sing Happy Birthday.  Quickly, we all joined in.  And boy did we sing loud!  It didn't matter that we weren't the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, we sounded amazing.  And just as you feel the Spirit listening to MoTab, you could feel the love we have for this amazing woman from our sound.  We poured our hearts into that song, begging her to feel how much she means to us.  The canvas roof made for the perfect amphitheater sounds to prove to her how much we love her.

Music has always been a big part of my life.  I will never forget that Happy Birthday Choir.  I didn't know everyone there, but I sure love signing with them.

Technology

In the KidZone area of McDonald's this morning, I sat behind a deaf man signing. However, there was no one sitting in the seat in front of him. He was having a "conversation" with someone on his Smartphone. How amazing it is to me that because of the amazing technology advancements of this day and age, a man that has had such limited ability to converse, unless face-to-face, can now catch-up with someone in a different place.

Or that our family and friends can know my kids better because of a blog. That my kids' grandparents can giggle at their antics, remembering when Randy and I were just like them. 

Or the fact that thousands have read my words without ever publishing a book. And that at this minute, I can blog on the open road without the need of WiFi. 

I realize that the internet has the potential to do much harm, but how grateful I am to live in this time. My life is made better because of technology. 

Also, as I ride in a car going 80 MPH to spend time with family celebrating the 80th birthday of Randy's Grandma, I'm grateful for motor vehicles. A/C, comfortable seats, windshield, and a protective roof that makes the rain falling with sounds like hail seem like nothing. 

I'm the luckiest girl in the world!

Childhood

We got the news that Caden's ANC is above 1,600. We immediately packed up, cleaned the RMH room, and got the heck out of Seattle. But...

We didn't just go home. We are on our way to Utah at Caden's insistance. And if there is one thing that has gotten me through the last few months, it's this. Don't deny the boy that can get out of the bed from extra time with his brothers and sisters. 

I agree!! 

I feel like we're starting again with childhood for each of them. And I intend to make it amazing!!!

Here's to a better start to our 2014!!! Together is definitely a better place to be!

Easier said...

So, it turns out that living without fear is easier said than done. We are in the ER this morning. Not for fever, thank goodness and knock on wood, but for pain. Intense back pain that can't be reached due to a little thing he calls a "wall."  The back bone in his lower back. 

I don't think I would be as worried about this if it wasn't for a story Sue had told me of her own daughter. Her youngest, Grace, is the same age as Keilie. She started to complain about the same type of pain that Caden has been complaining about. With all that Sue sees, she immediately jumped to "Oh.My.Gosh!!! My daughter has a sarcoma!" She took her into the pediatrician and demanded a Scan. Turns out she had serious enough damage from gymnastics to warrant a back brace for six months. 

I know that he finished chemo just seven days ago, and that every cell in his body is dead, but I can't help but jump to conclusion! 

What if he does have another sarcoma, but this type responds to a different chemo drug?! 

 This has been the thought that has ruled my brain for hours now. 

It all started yesterday at about 10:00AM. He was just sitting on his bed, when he reached back and kind of attacked his back. "Man, my back hurts!" And it has gotten worse ever since. After three Icy Hot patches that have done absolutely nothing, along with many hot bath soaks, I was starting to get more and more concerned. And we all know that my mind has a tendancy to seriously blow things out of proportion. It's something I have done since birth, I'm pretty sure. This morning, at 1:00AM, he asked if there was something he could take to make him fall asleep. So I gave him some of the Benadryl he's prescribed, hoping that after a good night's sleep his back would be better. By 1:30AM, the agitation that he was showing had settled. I remember watching the clock change to 2:00AM and then nothing. 

Until 4:00AM when I heard the bath running. He was woken with pain. Since we have done NOTHING for DAYS, this kind of pain is NOT normal. Especially since it is not a muscle that can be felt, or even massaged out. He can't sit still, he is constantly in motion, trying to "stretch" his back. So, with my over-active brain, of course I am going to remember Sue thinking her daughter had cancer because she had this exact pain description. 

And I'm scared because I don't know what's wrong. 

His pain has made it to a five. On a scale of 1-10 this may not seem too bad. But for my warrior that said the worst pain of his life was an 8, this has me quite concerned. 

I'm ready to be done. I'm ready to go home. I'm in desperate need of hugs from all of my babies. I'm tired from more than just two hours of sleep- regardless of the fact that we have just been sitting in the same room for five straight days. But most of all, I realize I'm probably going to live in fear for a while with him. Because, cancer or no cancer, he's still my son. And that's what moms do...they worry about their babies and jump to conclusions once in a great while. Forever!

9:00AM Update~

They gave Caden Oxycodone and waited 30 minutes for it to kick in. When that didn't touch it, they brought him Valium. Just two minutes after that, he was wheeled in to get x-rays. While waiting for the results of the x-rays, he was able to get some much needed rest. Lucky! I guess he earned it.

They compared today's x-rays to April's CT Scans and found nothing out of the ordinary. They think he may have had a severely strained muscle due to excessive laying in bed. We have walked around the neighborhood each night, but with us being stuck in our room, without any chairs, we are left laying around (literally) all day. They gave me some Meds just in case this happens again. 

They were also good enough to access his port and draw the labs that we had planned for 11:40 this morning. Now, if all looks good, we'll be able to go back to RMH and lay in our beds for some much needed rest. Two hours is just not gonna cut it today. I'm thinking he'll need platelets today, so we may have a few more hours here in the ER, but all is ok here. Thank goodness!!

I can put my worries to rest. Until the next time. 

Smashed It!!

5 days cancer free...

Not...

One...

Nausea...

Day!! Smashed it!!

We may not be able to BBQ, be with family, see/do fireworks, or party in any way, but we're having the time of our lives. Happy Independence Day 2014. 

My cousin, Jamie, sent this to me today...

Today is a day to celebrate all kinds of freedoms!!"

I couldn't agree more!!!

Fear

I have stumbled upon many articles or stories about cancer since this happened to us.  I'm not sure if I just didn't pay attention until now, or if I truly haven't read much about cancer, but it seems that I have stumbled upon it more than ever the last few months.  An article that I read yesterday had me a little worried.

"Research suggests that medical imaging like CT Scans may be contributing to many cancer diagnoses and deaths.  A New York Times article from last winter examined a study from the National Cancer Institute that found a connection between cancer and exposure to radiation in routine imaging like CT Scans.  As the Times cited, one in 10 Americans has a CT Scan every year, but many people have several.

NCI estimated that CT Scans conducted in 2007 will cause a projected 29,000 excess cancer cases and 14,500 excess deaths over the lifetime of medical imaging patients.  The Times extrapolated that estimate to claim that 'unless we change our current practices, 3 percent to 5 percent of all future cancers may result from exposure to medical imaging.'"

I'm not sure why I happened to read this statement on the exact day that he finished chemo, but the next step in his long-term care is a CT Scan on July 17th.  And then one every three months for the first 18 months, one every six months for the next 18 months, and then one on year four and five.  This will work out to be 10 CT Scans in the next 5 years for Caden.  This is as long as nothing comes up again.  I feel like I should say Knock on wood or something.

This is where my fears start.  What if he gets a cancer again because of the imaging?  However, what if the same thing happens to us again?  Caden was a healthy boy before all of this happened.  He'd had a Scouts physical less than one-year before that turned up nothing.  He ate right, followed the curve on the growth chart (although he has always been on the lower end of the curve) and was doing just fine.  Or so we thought.  A CT Scan was needed to find the Large Grapefruit Demon hiding behind his ribs, devouring his liver.  I trust the doctors to know what best to do, but it scares me to think that he'll have that many CT Scans over the next five years, all of which could actually cause him to have cancer.  It's a vicious cycle, it feels like; one that is our reality now.

And then, just three hours later, sitting together, ecstatic to have the chemo done, Caden clapped and cheered, "NO MORE CHEMO!!!!! EVER!!!!!!"  And then he instantly got solemn.  "Well, unless it comes back."  I could see raw terror in his eyes at this realization.  My son, the one that has been my rock, was thinking ahead, worrying about things that no child should ever worry about.  And it broke my heart. 

So this morning, as we were preparing to be discharged, we made a pact, he and I. 

We will not live in fear!! 

We will not waste our energy on things that we can't change/control.  We'll live life to it's fullest.  If, heaven forbid, cancer touches our lives again, we'll cross that bridge together- just like this time.  But for now...we won't fear.  If anything, cancer should be very afraid of us!!  We are stronger than ever.  United as one.  And nothing, nothing is going to change that!!  Ever!

And, just so you know, we have given his hair, eyebrows, and lashes permission to start growing- again.  We won't do anything to stop it's growth again.  When he was born, I was SO happy to have a boy.  It had been a dream to have a blonde haired, blue eyed boy.  And guess what?  I got it.  Now I think it would be great to have a blue eyed boy with hair.  And guess what?  I'll get it!

I'm the luckiest girl in the world!!! 

Gifts

I love the anticipation of the 20-week ultrasound.  I LOVE to organize and get things ready for a new baby.  Finding out the gender is top of my list for favorite things of pregnancy.  As soon as we find out the gender, I start to plan at least two things.  Name and nursery.  I love being able to say, "I'm due...It's a...and we'll name it..." It just makes me so happy.  And, oh mama, those sweet little newborn diapers?! I die!!  If I had a hard day, I'd shut myself in the nursery, pull out a diaper, and imagine my new bundle of joy.  It's funny that I'd imagine a new bundle of joy, when most times, it was my other bundles of joy that was causing me to have a bad day.  Anywhooo, I love the planning that comes with that 20-week ultrasound.

Caden finished his last day of chemotherapy today.  

It was an emotional time.  As the pump blared incessantly that it was "End of Infusion" I bawled like a baby!! 

It was probably the only time I haven't been bothered that it was beeping.  He is DONE!!! 

When the tears had run dry, I sat down and looked back over the last few months.  And then it hit me...he started his last Round of chemo exactly 21 weeks after this all started.  21 weeks!! It has gone so fast and SO slow at the same time.  I decided to take this time and make some plans for the "new" family we are soon to have, to get excited for things to come that will make our lives happier.

I recently read an incredible story of a mother than caught her son just moments before he drown.  She talked about taking her kids to the pool after a week of family visits.  She wanted to get them good and tired to take a great afternoon nap.  I found myself relating to so much that she was saying, I know we would be friends.  When her son wanted to continue swimming, but her younger daughter didn't, she put his floaties on and told him to stay close to the edge, allowing him to get in without her.  She watched him for a while, but then turned her attention- for a moment- to her little daughter.  She was taking pictures and planning posts, thinking of ways for the world to see her as an amazing mom (much like I've done sometimes), only to look up and see her son bobbing just below the surface.  So many things happened in just a short time, but the fear stabbed fast.  In just a moment, her life was changed forever.

She continues the story, telling us that she ended up taking him to the ER to be checked out.  As she was sitting with her son, smelling his hair and touching his sweet cheeks, the tears started to flow.  She thought about the scenario if her son would have drown.  Telling her husband his son had died while she was looking away, having his last memories be a hurried goodbye at the door that morning, and worrying that CPS would come to take him away.  Although Caden didn't drown, I know how she feels.  Things happen, sometimes, so quickly that it leaves us breathless.  We barely have time to process what is happening at that moment, let alone think of what would happen if things had gone differently.  Being so grateful for just one more touch, one more breath, one more minute.

It's hard to think back on the beginning of our journey.  I was so scared, I could barely breath.  My son had cancer!  My SON!  How did this happen?  I thought it was just pneumonia.  I knew he was sick, but that sick?  What happened to the pulled muscle I thought he had?  Or the viral infection that we were certain it was just two weeks before?  Cancer?  What was happening?!  It hurts too much to dwell on it.  My heart is still bleeding from it all.  It's just too soon to remember.  But, I can relate to this mother.  My son was close to death, had been through something so scary, and for reasons I am thankful for, Heavenly Father has given us more time with him.  I don't want to take this time for granted.  Ever!

The title of this article is The Gift of Presence.  She says, "What I mean by being present, is to be involved, aware, in-tune, and connected.  To not just physically be there, but to really BE there.  Soaking it all in.  Participating.  Adding to whatever it is.  Enjoying.  Not just being around, but being...present."  These words have played in my mind for a few weeks now.  I remember the first few days looking for anything I could; to remember just how my son was at that moment and many before.  I looked for things to make him laugh, to hear it just one more time, in case it happened to be his last.  I found myself remembering all of the fun stories that Caden used to tell, the funny things he used to come up with.  I wanted to remember everything.  I often left my cell phone on vibrate to concentrate on only Caden.  I was just so scared that he'd go downhill too fast to stop.  The nights with ICU stopping by almost every hour, I was in a state of overdrive.  I remember what the nurse was wearing, what smells were most prominent that night, and just about everything that littered the walls/floors of our room in FA.7.303.  I can't remember every room we've been in, but when I walk by that room (a room I will never forget) I can bring up many memories of things we did in that room.  It was the room that our lives changed so much.  The diagnosis room.  The First Round room.  I never took a moment in that room for granted.  I cherished every laugh, going out of my way to make it heard, feeling a poignant pain of sorrow when I didn't.  There was nothing that could have taken my attention from the boy in the bed.

While I am SO grateful that I don't have to worry (as much) about my son dying, I don't want to slip back into my old life.  I know that my habits will come back, that I will never be a person that cares absolutely nothing about the cleanliness of my home while spending every second with my kids, but I do want to make more of an effort to be present when I am with them.  To watch the movie that they are watching.  To play the games that they are playing.  To put my phone away, get off the computer, walk away from the book, and be there.  With them.  Enjoying them.  She closed her post, "Presence is a gift.  I plan to give mine to others, and to enjoy every moment of my children's gift to me.  If people are left hanging? That's ok, they will survive.  And guess what?  So will my son."  Beautiful.

Tonight, I don't plan to scour baby-name books, or purchase sweet newborn diapers, or look for baby bedding and perfect paint colors to decorate a room. Tonight I make plans to remember the last 21 weeks.  Not where I look back at the stories of tragedy and remember.  No, I'll never forget those stories, even if I wanted to.  No, I plan to remember the feelings of absolute helplessness watching my son suffer and be grateful for the days of health that we all enjoy.  I plan to remember the sense of loss I felt each time I had to say goodbye to my babies, knowing I wouldn't see them for weeks, and be grateful to be with them every second.  I plan to hug them longer, kiss their cheeks daily, to tuck them into bed until the day they ask me not to.  I plan to enjoy taking them to school, making their lunches, making homemade meals and sitting around the dinner table, watching the Family movie they want.  I plan to not just watch a movie with Randy after the kids are in bed, but to snuggle and hold hands each time.  I want to remember the hard times we've endured to make the together times better.  This 21 weeks has not begun a new life in my belly, but a new gift in my heart.  A family that will grow in love from our experience.

This experience has been a gift in more ways than one, I refuse to take it for granted. 

Go!!

"On Three."

One: His ANC is only 674. We were told it needs to be 750 to begin chemo. We thought we'd be sent home until Monday. I didn't know if I wanted to go. I'm sick of that drive!!

Two: Sue walked in and asked us to guess his ANC. It wasn't a surprise- our nurse had told us the number. What was a surprise?! When Sue said, "I'm gonna admit you anyway!"

Three: We'll make our last dive into that deep pool tomorrow morning!!

And then we'll have another Three. Three days of chemo and then NEVER AGAIN!!

Jump!

In 2010, Randy and I celebrated our anniversary in Kauai.  It was amazing!!  Our favorite place explored was called Kipu Falls.  I had pictures of my own, but they wouldn't download, so these are from the internet.

To get here, you walked through grasses taller than you on either side.  It opened up to this... a two story waterfall into a beautiful pool.  The locals have put up a rope swing and ladder to make the place a local hotspot.  It was amazing.  Randy knew immediately that he would jump and do the rope swing.  I was just fine watching it all and taking pictures.

However, my resolve to stay dry crumbled as I watched a seven year old child jump.  His dad was treading water in the pool below and was calling to his son to jump.  With pool-noodle tied around his tiny waist, he jumped without a moments hesitation.  Man, if that kid could do it, so could I!  I asked Randy to hold the camera and walked on Jell-O legs to the jumping spot.  I was beyond terrified.

I made it to a spot that was closer to the water below.  As I was looking over, contemplating just turning back, a local teenager started counting.  With her encouraging words, I felt my confidence grow.  "On three.  One!" I could do this.  That little boy didn't waiver.  "Two." Man, that is SO far.  I hope I don't somehow do a belly flop.  "Three." GO!  And I did!

We have all heard that even though falling only takes a couple of second, really, it feels like an eternity.  That is correct, my friend.  A terrified scream caught in my throat, not one whimper passed my lips.  As I hit the water, I was surprised by just how cold it was.  It, literally, took my breath away.  I kicked to the surface as fast as I could (I'm not a confidant swimmer) and doggy-paddled my way to the ladder.  If I thought that my legs were Jell-O before, it was nothing compared to how they felt now.  As I pushed myself up from water to rock-platform, I reveled the fact that I'd just jumped two stories!!  I had done it.

As my feet pressed into the rungs on the ladder, I remember thinking that after doing something so brave, my ascent shouldn't hurt so much.  I guess I'm just enough of a diva that I expect an elevator to make my life easier.  Almost as if I should have been rewarded for doing something so difficult.  But, as said in The Fault in Our Stars, "Life is not a wish granting machine."  Sometimes we get painful ladders when we wish for luxurious elevators.

Caden's numbers are still too low to begin Chemo.  I feel like I am at that low spot once again.  We're poised to jump in that pool for the last time.  We're tired from a journey that has brought us to this beautiful spot- our LAST Round!  We've made up our mind to jump.  I look at Caden, the boy that has jumped without hesitation, and think to myself, "If he's not nervous, why should I be?" But this jump, one where I need someone else to encourage and count, has a different kind of  counter.  Instead of one that says, "On Three," we are waiting on something that is giving us no indication.  We don't know when we'll jump- we'll actually be pushed this time.

As with the previous four Rounds, we expected his numbers to be above 500 (to go home) on June 11.  I had it all planned out that we'd be home the day after school let out for Summer Vacation and just play for a week before starting week 6 on June 20th.  That did not happen.  We got sent home last Wednesday at 380, with instructions to come back on Tuesday to begin on Wednesday.  If we were shocked to see that he hadn't changed a single bit from Monday to Wednesday, it was nothing to seeing it go from 380 to only 466 in six days.  It was a blow.  When will his ANC rise enough to begin this last Round?  With each day that passes, it pushes our time back.  Our finish date and our family-together-at-last date.  We'll make that jump, but the anticipation is hard.

I'm anxious for the day that we doggy-paddle our way back to our real life.  Who knows what our "ladder" will feel like.  I hope for smooth rungs, ones without as much traction, that will quickly take us to the open arms, and stunned/exhilerated faces of our loved ones.  Never in our lives did we ever think we'd make this jump!  And just like my real jump, I don't ever want to do it again.  Falling has felt like forever, even though, in life, it was a short time span.  I've done it once, that's enough for me.  I know that one day, we'll walk away from this beautiful experience holding strong to the ones we love, happy to have found it.  Because we are happy we did this.  We'll look back on this and marvel that we've done something so huge in our lives.  We just need to jump!

Please pray for Caden.  His body is just so tired!

Influence

Tomorrow, Randy and I will celebrate our 14 year anniversary.  We decided to go to a matinee and lunch on Thursday to celebrate.  Indian and a movie was just what I needed to unwind from the stress of the previous week.  And, man, did that Indian hit the spot.  It has been a toss-up the last three years between Indian and Greek being my favorite.  Wow, I love them both.  So glad we have the best of both here in Richland!!

Lunch was great, but the movie was better.  I read 'The Fault in Our Stars' and instantly fell in love.  Like I said before, I was recommended to read it before all of this happened to Caden, but for some reason ended up reading it while he was going through chemo.  It hit me so much harder than it would have had I read it in December.  I read it three times in three days, highlighting the parts that affected me, in green.  On my calendar I am keeping, green days are his chemo days- it just seemed important to me, somehow.  I was going to go with my girlfriends on Tuesday, but with Caden's numbers being too low on Monday, I was in Seattle on Tuesday.  I'm sad I didn't get to go with them, but I'm SO happy I saw it with Randy on this day for our anniversary date.  It was magical.

With it being a matinee, on a Thursday, a few weeks after opening night, the theater only had four other couples.  I was emotional watching the previews.  I knew what I was going to see. I had been waiting to have it come out, I was just so excited.  As the movie progress with the amazing acting following the book so well, my heart was filled with happiness, once more, over this amazing book.  Again, because of the situation we find ourselves in, this book has such meaning for me.  It touches my heart so much differently.  As the movie credits began to roll, emotions fresh, the tears just started.  In the dark of the theater, I cried.  Hard.  As I leaned on the man of my dreams, remembering that we were celebrating 14 years of perfect happiness, it struck me afresh how much cancer sucks.  It takes people too young, robs of so much, and changes lives so fast.  We are changed, for good, because of this disease.

That night, as we were putting our angels to bed, Randy asked if I wanted to go see it again.  He'd already recommend family members go see it.  It meant a great deal to him as well.  We sat down with my copy of the book, something that is included in my decorating now, and poured over the things that I'd highlighted in my book.  Just as the first time I read it, I cried during her speech telling Augustus Waters how much she loves him, how she is grateful for the Forever he'd given her in their short time together.  That movie, while sad and completely raw to all that watch it, will be one that we buy the day it comes out.  Because, it means something to us now, as we deal with our own story of cancer, but because it is one that reminds us both of the love we get to have.  The privilege it is to simply love.

Last night, with the kids gone (for the last time!) and with Caden in bed, we decided to go see it again.  Making up for the lack of date nights we've had in the last few months.  Going from once-a-week to once every two months has been hard.  Not because our marriage has suffered, but because I miss my husband.  As the theater dimmed, my heart swelled thinking of this man that I love so much.  I almost cried reaching over to hold his hand.  I love him so much!  As the first few minutes of the show came onto the screen, my excitement grew at being able to see this amazing movie, one more time, with the man that I love.   Unfortunately this experience would not be as magical as the last.  In fact, it was 100% awful.

A few minutes into the show, a group of girls came into the theater and sat four rows in front of us, slightly to our right.  They were talking.  Loudly.  As the movie was going.  I was appalled that they could clearly see that the movie was going and still decided to actually talk!  Then, the mother handed them their drink and walked out.  As in, leaving five young girls by themselves.  And the talking kept going.  The giggling at parts that weren't meant to be funny, showing their total immaturity.  As the movie progressed, and my anger was flaring, I kept thinking that I should go ask them to be quiet.  But, with the progression of the movie, I thought they'd finally get into it and shut their mouths.  Come on, this movie is a drama, it's difficult not to get into it.  They'd quiet down for a moment, making me think they'd finally gotten into it, but when they'd start talking or giggling again, I'd feel heat radiating my body.  Then they all got up at different times and left.  It was as if the whole audience gave a sigh of relief to have them gone.  If only they would have stayed gone.

At one of the most heart-wrenching times, we heard laughing coming from the entrance.  They were coming back in.  Together.  Laughing and talking as if they were at a concert.  And following close behind...was their mother.  Someone behind us yelled, "Would you be quiet?!" And they did...for a minute.  The mother, once again, dropped off their drink (after talking, herself) and left.  What?!  The kids were obviously not into the show, why did they want to be there?!  I could feel the tension raise as they walked across the front of the screen.  At a part that had touched me so completely just two days before, was something completely different this time.  I tried with everything in me to simply put them from my mind and just listen.  But I couldn't.  I had thoughts of anger going through my mind.  Things I wish I could say.  Things I would like to do.  The magic of this amazing movie had been ruined.  I was crushed.

As the movie credits began to roll, instead of tears of gratitude for the favorable circumstance we found ourselves in, there was anger.  I told Randy that 'I wish I could follow those girls out.'  He looked at me and said, "I am!"  We followed them to their mother, sitting outside the theater on her phone.  Randy walked up to her, waited for her to end her call, and asked if she was the guardian.  She looked apprehensive and answered that she was.  Forcefully, but without raising his voice, he told her, "Don't leave children in a movie theater unless it is a cartoon.  These girls ruined the entire movie for everyone in that theater."  She was stunned, to say the least, that he was actually complaining to her.  She asked them what they had done, to which their reply was that they had just 'cried at the end.'  This pushed me over the edge.  Because, at a part that the whole audience should have been crying at, they were laughing.  They were laughing at something that is NOT funny!  The acting was so amazing at this part, that you could feel the anguish as if it truly had happened to her, that somehow we were witnessing real life.  And they laughed.  I added my words, said almost in tears at their lies, without raising my own voice.  At this point, another group of people were coming out of the theater complaining about them.  The mother heard, and Randy pointed at them and told the mother to ask anyone coming out of there how they enjoyed the show.  We could have, maybe, done things a little differently, but we felt like we helped them realize what they had done.  The mother leaving her young girls (one of which was about 7!! Remember it is Midnight by this point!) and the girls for actually treating that time as happy hour.  It was awful!

I have pondered on the two scenarios.  We went to see the exact same movie, together, but each one was so starkly different.  One was a complete dream, the other a nightmare.  Sometimes, in our lives, the outside world affects the outcome of our experiences.  We were the same people that had seen it days before, we had the same love for one another, we both wanted to feel the same emotions and grow in our love for one another and our experience.  But, because of something outside of our control- an outside influence- it made the experience one that we hated.  No matter how much we want something to happen, sometimes what other do affects our happiness.

It has been has been hard for me to forget the anger.  If the second date would have been our first, we would not feel such love for that movie.  We probably wouldn't have been so excited to see it again so soon.  The feelings that I try to focus on are that of the first movie.  But it's hard not to feel like we were cheated.  Outside influence can make all the difference.  And just like in the book, there are two ways to tell a story.  Sometimes, it's not who is telling the story, but who is reading it, and what is happening around them that shapes their impression on the matter.

Miracles

Dear Stephanie,   

I want to share with you my experience last Sunday. I won't go into details about my own health trials, but suffice it to say I really struggled last week to even get up and go to church. I talked myself into going to Sacrament meeting - knowing that even if I felt lousy while I was there I would feel worse if I didn't go. Normally I sit in the SAME place every Sunday (don't want to change the rotation of the earth you know ~ Smile) Last week I came a little late so sat in the back. Well - sure enough the Lord had a powerful message to send to me in the form of Caden. First, he administered the Sacrament to me. I felt like I had the Sacrament brought to me by an angel, AND the Spirit sort of slapped me up side the head and said "See - What are YOU complaining about?" and then to hear him speak in church was an added blessing. I wish I could wave my  mother's magic wand and make everything all better for you, Caden, (and honestly myself) - but your willingness to share your experience has been like a  breath of fresh air in my life. Please let Caden know that I pray for him (and for you and your family) morning and night. His (and your) strength, help those of us with our own (though lesser) trials to be strengthened.  Love you!

I received this email on my birthday.  Jan probably didn't know that it was my birthday, or that her words were a gift to me that day.  She was a miracle to me that day.

I was talking to Caden about it on Sunday.  Since his counts were not high enough (still are not high enough), and since Randy had to go out of town on Monday, we met in the middle of the drive.  Randy got into my car and drove away, again, with my four youngest, while I got into his car and drove the rest of the way to Seattle.  I was in a particularly meditative state as I drove and ended up talking a good deal of the drive.  I told Caden about Jan's email, asking how he felt about being an inspiration to so many, simply by being him.  He asked me questions about it, saying that he "didn't feel like much of an inspiration- he just felt good enough to go to church that day."

Sometimes in our lives we are given the extraordinary gift of being someone's miracle.  I have reflected much in the past few weeks on this word, "miracle."  In Biblical times, miracles were things such as raising a man from the dead, giving sight unto the blind, feeding a multitude with only a few fishes and loaves of bread.  These were some of the miracles our Savior, Jesus Christ performed.  We also read about a Samaritan man that stops to help a man that has been left for dead.  He tends to this man with the love of a father, giving him food and water, binding his wounds, placing him on his own donkey, taking him to a comfortable inn.  Not only does he make sure to have him cared for while healing, he promises the inn keeper more for continued help, should the man need it.  This Samaritan saw someone that could not help himself, that needed the love of another to simply survive.  This Samaritan was a miracle to that man.

I have seen and felt many miracles in my lifetime, but none more than the last few months.  Love has been given to us, people in desperate need to simply survive, by so many.  Some we know, most we don't.  Whether it was through prayers, money, time, gifts, or words, you have been a miracle in our lives.  These things may seem like small acts at the time, but to those in need, they are the world.  You never know when one act will make all the difference, when you will be someone's miracle.

Polish

These last few days have felt like one disappointment after another. It has been hard not knowing what to do about almost everything. We didn't know why the medicines were making him so loopy. We didn't know where we were going to stay each night while waiting for RMH. We don't know what made him so sick. We're not sure why his ANC is taking so long to rise. We don't know if, or when, Caden will be able to go home. It feels like one thing after another to bring us to another low. 

Our journey has been a definite period of growth. Just when we thought we had a handle on all that was expected, we're hit with something else. Something that makes us realize that we are not finished- we have something more to learn. We are so tired. I hope we come out of this better than when we entered. 

I took a pottery class in High School. It didn't take long for me to realize I would never be a master potter. I had no skill! I enjoyed working on the wheel about as much as I like seafood. Which is to say...not at all. I don't like wet hands, so it was always a struggle to keep myself focused enough to work the clay as needed. I came close to making a vase- once. I had it formed, thinking I'd make it just a little bit taller. Starting from the bottom, using just the right amount of pressure, I started making my way up the length of my sculpture. As I neared the top, my finger caught on an imperfection I hadn't seen and ended up ripping a hole through the vase. This caused the whole thing to start teetering which eventually made the clay spin out of control, off the wheel and onto the floor. Tears and frustration made me change my project from a beautiful vase to small bowl that held my earrings. 

Like my vase, we come with many imperfections, some that can be seen and others that can't. We just have to have faith that our imperfections can be polished out. That we will be made more beautiful by the Master's hand. And become a vessel to hold something beautiful. 

Father's Day 2014

I have had some of the best examples of what it is to be a wonderful father. There are five men in my life that exemplify fatherhood to it's fullest. 

Grandpa Fuller

Grandpa Fuller married my Grandma just two days before I was born. I have many happy memories about this amazing man. While. I have many wonderful memories, this example actually was told by my dad at Grandpa Fuller's funeral two years ago. During the courtship years of their relationship, my dad remembered Grandpa always saying how beautiful Grandma was. He thought this was something that Grandpa said to win approval from the now-grown youngest son. However, after waking from a particularly long unconscience period just days before his passing, Grandpa focused on Grandma and said, "Hello, Beauty." Grandpa Fuller lived his life to love my Grandma. Oh how I miss that amazing man!!

Grandpa Kimber

Just like Grandpa Fuller, I have many memories of my Grandpa loving my Grandma. This memory is from the year I worked at Zale's The Diamond Store, before I met Randy. I had many men that came to buy something for their sweethearts, but none that was as special. My Grandpa had said he was planning a surprise, so when he came into the store, I kind of had an idea what he had planned. However, I was not prepared for the emotions that were waiting. Grandpa spent about 30 minutes looking at many different pieces of jewelry, looking for the perfect thing. He kept telling me that Grandma wasn't much for jewelry, but he couldn't resist giving her something that sparkled. He finally decided on some diamond earrings. He got the size that would "compliment her perfect ears," and as he was paying for his purchase, choked up telling me how excited he was to give his gift to his "best friend." Tears stung my eyes as I hugged him that day. They do often, to be honest. He lost his sweetheart three years ago, and to this day tears up just thinking of her. Their 50-year romance is an example I plan to follow. 

Darwin Dirks

I am the luckiest girl in the world to love my new dad as much as I do. He is such an amazing in-law. This memory happened while we were living with them. We'd gone to the mall with them and ended up in Kay Jewlers. Darwin had Jackie try on the Past, Present, and Future diamond ring of her choice. She found the one that she liked best, but that was as far as it went. A few days later, Darwin went back to get the exact ring. On the way home, MasterCard called to make sure the purchase was not fraudulent. However, it was not Darwin they called. It was Jackie. My heart burned with sadness- his surprise had been foiled. However, when he found out- after he'd presented his gift to Jackie- he didn't seem to care. He had eyes only for his sweetheart. He watched her face as she admired the beautiful ring on her finger. I have seen many more moments of him simply admiring his bride. In six short years, they'll make it to their 50-year anniversary. Their love story is one I get to witness close up, and take notes for my own happily-ever-after. 

Wayne Burrell

My whole life has been shaped by a man that adores his wife. My dad has always supported my mom in all of her endeavors. The first time I was able to see my mom cross the finish-line of one of her many half-marathons, it was my dad's reaction that was so fun to see, and her perseverance that was so inspirational. While waiting close to the end, my dad seemed to look at his watch every minute. He'd been to a few of her finish-lines, so he knew approximately what time she'd be coming. As the time drew near, he was bursting with anticipation. We all drew as close as we could to watch her come around the bend. With camera poised, I heard my dad's excited proud-husband voice, "There she is!" I found my mom cruising to her end, and quickly looked back to my dad, in excitement. There he was, camera clicking away, proud of his bride for beating her time. We all drew close and started to scream for the one that we loved. Our wife/ mother/ grandmother was racing to beat her time with those she loved cheering her on. But it was my dad that beamed brightest in our circle. It was written on his handsome face the love that he has for my amazing mother. That is the love that I hoped to find for myself. 

Randy Dirks

I have been loved like a queen since February 16, 2000 when Randy first said, "I love you!" Our daughters have an amazing example of how a man should treat a woman. Our sons have a perfect example of how a man treats his bride. I have had more memories in the last 14 years than can be documented in 1400 books. Some that make me laugh, cry, swoon, and frankly, roll my eyes. But in all, I have never wondered whether everything he does is to make me happier. So much of his energy goes into making my life easier, so this memory makes me laugh because nothing he could have done would have helped, but man, did he try. And looked quite manic doing it. 

It was Brennon's birth birthday. We had been bumped on the induction list from morning to afternoon, so he put down the ultimatum that I had 11 hours to push him out. He was dead set on Leap Day, after all. We got into the hospital around 12:30, got all hooked up by about 1:15, and  started IV, pitocin, and epidural by about 2:00. However, it soon became glaringly clear that the epidural was not kicking in. Like, at.all!! I was frantic with pain as Randy ran around to all of the nurses, asking why it wasn't working yet. Brennon was pretty much flying out of me, I was beside myself with pain (actually scaring myself, literally, with my scream) while my sweet husband pressed my epidural button with an intensity that would cause smoke to rise if we were cartoons. And let me just say, it was pretty darn funny. Even through the most pain I have felt in my whole entire life, I remember looking at his face and thinking, "I love him so much!" Because through it all, he was doing everything in his power to get me relief, to bring me release, and to get me the fastest medical care. I'm not sure the nurses appreciated his efforts, but I loved him even more for trying so hard. 

My world is made better by the men that surround me. The Father's in my life set a high bench-mark for the world. And one day, when my own daughters are mothers of their own, I hope they feel the same. Because they have the best examples, ever. How lucky I am to have their love. And see what it means to be the girl of their dreams. 

Brennon

I love the end-of-the-year backpack. I love all of the stuff that comes home (except kid scissors that chop little sisters hair! 2010 nightmare!!).  My favorite this year was a bunch of pictures Mrs. L sent for Brennon. I was in heaven looking through them all. I missed so much of this year, so I loved seeing all of the parties I missed. And now I get to keep all of his sweet smiles. Here are my favorites. 

So worried! What do you do with this?

Baby chick. Look at his happiness!!

Baby bunny. He has ample experience with bunnies. Remember all of the fun we had with bunnies? In our window well, under our riding lawn mower, in our front flower garden, and behind our fence. We saw and caught plenty. He know his way with bunnies. 

I love the happiness that radiates from his smile. He is such a joy!!

Oh, those lips!!! I love that he does that when he is concentrating. Love me some fish lips!!

Brennon has made a few things to give to Mrs. L- next year. He understands that she won't be his teacher, but he said, "Mom, she will be there next year. I'll give her loves then, too!" One thing about my Brennon- he'll love you forever!! 

I am so grateful for this gift. I enjoyed looking at them in the hospital. It was a light shown on a dreary day. Tender Mercies are all around. 

Of course

His ANC dropped. I didn't cry this time. I didn't stop my feet or have a tantrum. I just came home with the kids, instead. Randy is staying with Caden in the hospital tonight, hopefully getting discharged tomorrow, and home, home on Sunday. We'll see how things work out. There are no plans made, we're just taking it day-by-day.  Because I'm a cry-baby when I don't get my way. And let me tell you...it ain't pretty! I love my men in Seattle. Life will be SO good in just a few more weeks. For now, Caden's numbers need to be 750 to start the last Round. I'm torn between wanting to push it back (even if they are above 750) just to have a break, and just wanting to get this thing over with. We'll see what this break produces. More whining like a baby, or perseverance to just get it done. For now, I'm home, in my own bed, with my own pillow, and fresh red marks where my children hugged me as hard as they could tonight. They all accepted the challenge with giggles and glee and just about bent my neck out of shape. Perfection, I tell you. Those red marks are the most beautiful accessory I have ever worn around my neck. No question! How lucky I am to have a husband that knows what I need and is always looking for ways to shower me with love, an amazing boy that hasn't complained once about being re-admitted (good thing he hasn't learn how to throw a tantrum from someone I know), and sweet Keilie, Shelby, Brennon, and Tyson that adorn me with love when I need it most. I don't deserve them. But I'm gonna live the rest of my life showing them how much they mean to me.