- B R E A T H E -

It's been a week.
A wild ride, a wavy sea of change.
A never-ending tale of discomfort.

I've felt everything from gratitude, love and hope,
to anxiety, panic and fear.

We've never done this before.
Or have we?

Something I did not anticipate was how old trauma would surface.

Flashbacks to a hospital room I couldn't leave.
Feeling cagey.
Terrified.

Isolated to ourselves.
Trying to keep things 'normal.'
Exhausted.

Right now is also an old memory engrained in my soul.
My mind racing back and forth.
Then.
Now.
Us.

- B R E A T H E -

Ground into the earth.
Feel the roots of my spirit protecting me.

- B R E A T H E -

Love myself and my family.
Hug and touch and cuddle and hold.

- B R E A T H E -

Pray.
Meditate.
Journal.
Every day.

- B R E A T H E -

We can survive this.

this is alex. this is healing.

This was alex.
Not capital A-lex, this guy only deserved little a-lex.
This was Brooklyn's tumour, which she named in therapy over the last 18 months.

On January 19th, 2016 this image was taken by CAT scan. It took two attempts, the second time she had to be sedated to obtain this photo, as her first experience was an absolute horror show of screaming, crying and terror. It absolutely traumatized us both.

alex was about the size of an adult fist, located in her abdomen. This was the reason for her pain and fatigue. This was the guy causing her to feel rotten.

This was her childhood cancer.
This is what a 'lucky' case of neuroblastoma looks like.
She. Was. So. Lucky.

All September long, as I wake up to flashbacks of her time at the hospital, as I remember minute details of the night post-surgery when she nearly went septic, I still hear the words, 'your child has cancer'.

I am healing.
Perhaps forever I am healing.

I know we still have six months until her next MRI.
Six months more, her first year between scans.
A milestone year.

Because she is ok. Because her rate of relapse is very low.
Because she kicked alex's butt and told him never to return.

As new layers of our journey continue to unravel, I am determined to endure them with gratitude.

I will answer Ethan's concerns, 'do all middle kids get cancer?', by reminding him that he is healthy and shouldn't expect to be diagnosed just because he is now five, like she was then.

I will smile through tears when Brookie posts hospital photos on her wall, as she is finding some comfort in, or perhaps acknowledgement of her journey by viewing herself as a child who used to have cancer.

I will hold my husband tightly when we both cry, worried about relapse or remembering what complete despair we felt then and how desperately we want to forget it ever happened.

We are still healing.
But I am grateful for every. single. day.

Perhaps this is the beauty of trauma. It brings forth a light, a positive vision of life which leaves trauma warriors determined to see even the worst days as brilliant, gifted and full of beauty. There is no other way.

#ccam #gogold #childhoodcancer #cancersurvivor

Coping

Brooklyn has finally completed the last of the required tests.
Her only scheduled appointment next week is a surgical follow up from her biopsy.

Now we wait.
Wait for a diagnosis. A treatment plan. A timeline.

It's the scariest feeling ever, to know something so important rides entirely on others. Highly intelligent and well trained others, but still the lack of control takes my breath away more than once a day.

I feel sad.
Empty.
Anxious.
Shaky.
Weak.
I've really pulled into myself, the way a turtle crowds it's shell during times of danger.

I worry about my boys and the trauma this has caused each of them.

E has endured nightmares. He needs to know where I am going and when I'll be back. He asks lots of questions about where his siblings are, and he was so angry last week when we made it clear he wasn't allow to hug his sister because of her boo-boos. He cried the most gigantic, most heartbreaking tears last weekend as he spontaiously told me how hard it was to go from the babysitter's house to his grandparents' house and back. His entire routine was disrupted, despite our best efforts.

N is sullen, at times unable to decipher what he's feeling. He made a feeling picture with the Child Life Specialists yesterday, of our faces before B got sick and since B has been in the hospital.

Left - before B became sick . Right - after B became sick

This image brought me to tears. He is right and its hard to know he's hurting as much as we are, despite our attempts to be as warm and normal as possible. He is a feeler, a deeply emotional child, and he knows that this is serious.

When my mind wanders, I sometimes think about the worst case scenario.
Chemo. Hair loss. Extended hospital stays.
A daughter with self esteem issues... her first set of incisions really upset her.

And then sometimes I focus on the beautiful party we will have when this is all over with.
The music. The jumpy castle. The cold drinks and big hugs.
Tears of joy.
A chance to thank everyone for their support.

The entire next week is out of our hands, all there is left to do is pray that hope becomes reality.
I find myself too tired to pray these last few days, and so I am grateful for all of your spiritual dedication to my family.
xo

#TeamBrookie #WarriorPrincess