Life Itself

I just watched that movie.  Sitting here in my hotel room, attached to MD Anderson, alone.  And, while I wouldn't recommend that movie to just anyone without strong caveats,  strong caveats, it has a profound message, and one which deepens one's empathy.  And, in that setting, I write.

So, I have to back up.  To a month ago.  To this...

...sitting for family photos knowing I had a mammogram in two days that very few knew about.  Knowing that this might be our last "normal" photo for awhile.

I didn't want to believe the lump I noticed a few months before would be a problem.  The lump that since Agnes' birth I had forgotten about.  The one which I was reminded of with a phone call from my grandmother just a week or so before this.

My granddad (who had suffered greatly from a stroke almost two years before), woke up angry with my grandmother.  Apparently he believed I had called him in the night to tell him something was wrong.  Even after texting that I was fine, he wasn't convinced.  So, Jeremy stayed home with everyone but Agnes, and I drove out with her to see him.  When I arrived, he looked at my grandmother and said, "See!  She did call."  I tried to convince him otherwise without any success, and he said, "You said something was wrong, and you had something to show me."  So I introduced him to Agnes, and said I was fine.

But, that night, I remembered the lump I felt months before.

And, I got in touch with my OBGYN the next day to schedule a mammogram for after we returned from Agnes' appointments in Denver the next week.

I didn't tell anyone (well, except for my husband, mom, sister and a couple friends), because part of me was sure I had just made something out of nothing...like a clogged milk duct.  And, another part didn't want anyone to worry until they had a reason to worry.  But, when I told my mom a couple days before the appointment, she was determined to come with me (or at least drive me there).

When at the appointment they "saw something suspicious," part of me just knew.  They biopsied two sites and told me that it could be 200 other things but that they needed to rule out the one "bad" thing.  I got back in the car with my mom, and all I could think was, "Dear God please don't let my kids grow up without a mom."  I didn't want to start thinking of all of the what ifs, but I was somewhat worried, and I knew those I told were, too.

That night as I laid in bed thinking of the year we had had, I so vividly was reminded of Jesus being fully man and thus knowing the hurt of hard times, yet with He and His momma, part of me thought, "Yes, you became like us to know us and to feel everything with us - to be fully human - yet You never lost your mom."  

Two days later, as I was washing dishes after lunch, I had a call on my cell from an unknown number.  I picked it up, and after the lady on the other end asked me how my biopsied sites were doing, she asked if I "had a minute."  For the record, I'm no longer answering yes to that question ;)

I sat on my bed, grabbed a pen and opened up the nearest thing to me (a book called He and I), and began to write down everything she said.  It was a blur, but I came away knowing I had Invasive Ductal Carcinoma, Grade 3, with a 3.5 cm mass and at least one affected lymph node.  I would wait five more days to hear reports on the staging and receptor status.

I walked out of my room, made eye contact with Jeremy, and he followed me out our back door to sit on the steps, take a deep breath, cry and decide what to do next.  I had cancer.

Cancer.

I knew I needed to call my mom and sister, then one of my best childhood friends who had just been through a cancer diagnosis and treatment, and finally send a mass message to my friends and family who had no clue what was coming.

In the meantime, Jeremy called his parents and told our kids...the kids who haven't seen much death, but that which they have has almost always been tied to cancer.

After all of the communication, and the loving on my babies, I went to talk to my parents.  There is not much worse than seeing those you love most suffer...yet seeing them helplessly hurt for you, I've discovered, ranks right up there with it.

I came home to Jeremy driving his truck, with the kids behind in all of their run down, battery-operated vehicles...chained together, pulled by Dad...offering me what they termed, "The Love Parade."

I made the corner after watching their tear-stained faces wanting to lift my spirits and sobbed like I never have before.

And after that, I went back to those dishes.

Because what does one do after receiving a cancer diagnosis, with 8 sets of little eyes watching?

Only the very next thing that needs to be done.  Life itself.

For Such a Time as This

 

Hearing that Agnes had health issues the day she was born (and learning every hour that they were more complicated than originally thought) was heart-wrenching.

In one breath, I knew we could handle whatever God laid before us with our precious baby girl.  In another, I couldn't stop the tears thinking of the future she would have and the crosses she would carry.  I wanted to take those crosses from her (and many times I still want that).  I wanted her to be "normal" - I didn't want to worry what this might mean for her and what it could mean for our family.  I knew next to nothing about what was in store (and still don't), and that was maybe the most difficult part.  The unknown...the waiting...seems to always be the most difficult.

We came home from the hospital both physically and mentally drained.  Where would we go from here? When would a team of specialists call and let us know they could see her?  What would we tell the other kids?  How would our lives change?

As we waited to hear the next steps, we decided to tell the older kids about Agnes, knowing some of her health issues were visible to them and that we would be away from home from time to time seeing her doctors.  When we told them, there were many questions, tears and uncertainty.  Then our oldest, Carter, looked at Jeremy and said, "We drink from the cup God gives us, and there's not a hair that falls from our heads that He doesn't know about."  Praise God for the affirmation through the mouth of a little one.  That was the beginning of the revelation of so many affirmations in the last four weeks.

When we were worried about genetic issues, I remembered a question I asked a close friend-now-pediatrician ten years ago that prepared me for that moment at birth.  When we discovered she had a tethered spinal cord, I then realized why I met my wonderful friend Amy two years ago...whose daughter is on the other end of surgery for her tethered spinal cord.  Each new day brought many "signs" of God's presence always.  Some more distinct than others.

I, of course, arrived home and promised myself I wouldn't google any of her conditions until I heard from doctors.  But, I read as many medical journal articles as I could get my hands on and joined a Facebook group for parents of LUMBAR kiddos.  One specific journal article my pediatrician gave me to read.  It was full of information and studied a case that looked eerily similar to Agnes's.  The week I read that article, a friend and former roommate of mine in Houston had an appointment at Texas Children's for her daughter.  She saw a new-to-her doctor that day in the department of hematology, and she casually talked to her about Agnes.  The doctor gave my friend a chart about LUMBAR to send me.  I looked at it and realized I had seen it before.  It was in the article from my pediatrician.  This new doctor for my friend was the author of the journal!

I immediately emailed her asking for advice on Agnes.  Within 24 hours, this specialist emailed me with the compassion and kindness I prayed for, plus an eagerness to help.  She was so open and wonderful and said they would love to see Agnes in Houston.  We went back and forth and finally got an appointment scheduled with her and a dermatologist who wrote the article with her.

In the meantime, I was looking for a saint to develop more of a devotion to specifically to ask for healing of Agnes.  At this point my mind is on overload and I'm obsessed with finding the "perfect" and most "powerful" saint.  Knowing how silly I was being, I still worried and decided to ask intercession from as many as I could think of.  Her namesakes of course  (Agnes, Mother Teresa and Mary Magdalene).  Then, we almost named her Philomena, so her.  Then, St. Therese because I love her.  Saint Gemma patron of back issues.  Alfonsus Liguori for the same reason.  Then, Blessed Chiara Badano - as she's a blessed and may need a miracle.  (If you don't understand the asking of prayers from saints, think of it as asking your friends for prayers.  They don't answer them...they just pray for you, too.  And, the saints are in Heaven with Jesus, so why not ask them to ask Him for you, all the while praying to Jesus yourself...the more the merrier).

My sister organized a novena to Blessed Chiara.  In the meantime, a priest was visiting my parents and offered to celebrate a private Mass for our family.  My parents brought over a saint statue for him to bless for Bell Road Beef, too.  Well, they walked into our house, showed us the saint, and said they were sent the wrong one, but it would still be good to get it blessed.  They thought it was Saint Cecilia.  We still had it blessed because it happened to be the name of this priest's parish!

The next morning I was sitting at the table drinking coffee, and I took a closer look at the saint statue.  She didn't have a harp or musical instrument like Saint Cecilia usually does, so I Googled "what saint is typically depicted with an arrow and an anchor."

Saint Philomena.

Then I discovered Saint Philomena is the patron of infants and babies, was born and died in the same years saint Agnes did (how neat if they were friends!), were both 13 at death, and both died as martyrs for their faith.  Wow.  I think that "wrong" saint chose us.

The same priest came back through town on the day we were finishing our novena and gave to Agnes holy oil he had from the tomb of Saint Philomena seven years ago!  He said he went there on his first pilgrimage as a seminarian and bought the oil not knowing what he needed it for, but that God always revealed that to him, and seven years later, he knew Agnes needed it.

Fast forward to the next week when my friend was taking her girl back to Texas Children's to hopefully get a diagnosis for her blood disease.  She texted that morning asking for a saint to intercede for her.  I looked up the saint of blood disorders...Saint Philomena!

As she was driving to the hospital she saw a tiny Catholic bookstore and called to see if they had a medal of Saint Philomena.  She was on speaker phone and the lady said they've never had anything of Saint Philomena, and just as she said it, the other owner in the background yelled that a lady had just brought in a medal of Saint Philomena giving it to them saying maybe someone could use it.

These saints are powerful, I tell you.

Then on Tuesday, Houston called to ask if we would rather get Agnes seen sooner...in Colorado the very next day.  I've had some struggles with that...just in my mind thinking Houston must be the best for Agnes since those two doctors are there, but they work with the team in Colorado and I have to believe wouldn't refer us there unless they were very confident as well.  So, to Colorado we went.  I was a little sad, too, that I wouldn't know as many people in Colorado if we needed anything.  Yet God came through again, reminding me of a family we met 18 months ago who stopped by our house on the way to OK.  And, my instagram messages went nuts with offers to help from Colorado people.  God is good.

All throughout the past four weeks, I've had so many reach out with prayers, offers to help, stories, and connections.  I've discovered why certain things in the past happened...in order to prepare us for such a time as this.  

Is God "punishing" us with a sick kid?  No.  Does he allow these situations for a greater good?  Absolutely.  And is He with us every step of the way, giving us the grace to handle each day?  YES!  Truly, I feel so blessed to be Agnes's mom, and she has already deepened our faith as a family.  I have a feeling that big things are in store for her, and us...but more on that in another post.

Of Human Life

I've written and re-written this blog post multiple times.  There is so much I want to say, yet I want to keep it short enough that it is read.  I've gone different routes, typed and erased many lines, and have finally decided to try to simply share my heart.  So here goes...

Typically when I find something beautiful, rich and moving, I want to share it with everyone I come in contact with.  I want to shout it from the rooftops, sing its praises to anyone who will listen and live in its joy completely.  But for some reason, this time, I haven't.  Until now.  So bear with me, this might be a bit longer than most.  But, it's been one in the making for years, actually.  I just finally have to courage to share the beauty behind our way of life without holding back, without intending to burden or offend, and with complete joy.  Because this is us.  This is the beauty in what we believe.  And to hold back would be to keep something from you that I have no right to keep to myself.

Humanae Vitae.  Of Human Life.  An encyclical written fifty years ago by Pope Paul VI.  Its inception came at a time when social pressures were challenging the Church's opposition to contraception...a position, which until 1930, all Christian communities unanimously held.  In essence, Humanae Vitae is the beautifully written teaching of God's plan for married love and the transmission of life.  In the midst of the opening of Margaret Sanger's free birth control clinics, introduction of the pill and beginning of the sexual revolution, Blessed Pope Paul VI, in this encyclical, reiterated the Church's position on married love: that it was to remain free, total, faithful and fruitful...always.


Why did the other Christian communities cave to the pressures of society?  Why don't we all teach still that the sacrament of marriage mirrors the Holy Trinity, with each being giving of themselves completely, holding nothing back?

I don't know.

But I do know that it bears repeating.

Fifty years ago, Blessed Pope Paul VI foresaw and foretold what could come of our society if we bought into the lies of contraception.  He envisioned a society in which women were objectified.  A society which made women always available because of the separation of sex and babies.  One which was littered with pornography, adultery and fornication .  And, one in which babies would come to be seen as choices or mistakes rather than the gifts they are.

Was the world free from these things before?  No.  Yet, look where we are today.

Here is what some do not realize: the Church doesn't teach that we have to have as many children as we can.  It does not even teach that we have to have any.  She simply asks that we always remain open to life...that no barrier or sterilization ever comes between the unitive and procreative pieces that make up each marital act.

Is being open to life difficult?  It can be.  But really, any form of self-mastery and sacrifice will always involve pain.  That pain may come in the form of a constant struggle to do the right thing.  It may come in choosing to say no when we really want to say yes.  It may come in knowing that as much as you want something, it may never happen.  It may be in the form of a daily cross that only you know and carry.  As written in this beautiful study, "When we gave our lives to Christ, we didn't sign up for easy.  We signed up to be conformed to Jesus -- to live like Him, love like Him, and die like Him.  And we did that because we knew in doing so, we would find not death, but life.

The death we experience in any form of self-denial - sexual or otherwise - is real.  But, so is the life we find through it."

I love my faith.  I love the difficulty to which it sometimes calls me.  I even love knowing that whatever pain I may be feeling can in some tiny way be joined to His on the cross, as if I may shoulder just a splinter of His cross.  

I love being open to life.  Am I excited about this seventh baby?  Thrilled!  Am I sad about the early losses we experienced before this little miracle?  Of course.  I would also be lying if I said in being open to life I didn't at times worry about having the means to help them through college, making sure they have what they "need" and doing/having the things that sometimes are made to appear like childhood necessities.  Therein lies part of the journey though.  With each new baby, I become a bit more dependent on Him and a little less concerned with those wants I somehow made needs.  

I also used to think that I would have all of my babies before I was thirty.  That did not happen.  Then it moved to forty.  And, while I never know if the one I'm carrying will be the last, somehow I realize that my plan to just be very strict about NFP once I reached "advanced maternal age" solely for the reason of being at that age wasn't really being open at all.

So again, I learn to trust.  I learn that seven children doesn't necessarily mean lots of rest.  I learn that my body won't necessarily look and feel like I always want it to.  I learn that sometimes people will not understand the choices my husband and I have made.  

Some of those lessons are harder than others, and I'm embarrassed to say how many I have to learn over and over.

But in the last eight years, as we have welcomed six, lost two, and anxiously await the arrival of our seventh, what I have learned most is that He has loved me enough to create me in a way that mirrors Him, while giving me the gift of being a vehicle to bring a unique soul into this world.  Isn't that beautiful?!  Isn't His love for us and for His children amazing?  Better than anything I can imagine...just as He planned it.

In His truth in this encyclical, His truth about marital love, simply put...God loves you.  He loves who He created you to be.  He loves who you are.  He loves when you follow His will and He loves you when He has to call you back into His arms, enveloping with a mercy bigger than any of your sins.  He didn't design you and me with a plan to make our lives miserable.  Instead, He gave us the tools to choose Him over and over again in order to be at peace.  He has loved you and me enough to guide us back to Him...in every area of our lives, from our decisions about daily life to those made in the bedroom.   He is in complete control.  All, we have to do is continue to say yes to His will.  And, I cannot think of anything that gives me more peace.

(yes, it's a girl).

I was sent this study by the women at Endow and it has so moved me and reignited my love for our Church and its teachings.  I can not recommend it more.

If you are Catholic and looking to reignite your commitment to this truth...if you are not and would like to know why your faith community may no longer teach the same message...if you simply want to understand God's plan for married love, read this.  Delve in.  Cover to cover.  And, ask yourself the hard questions.  You can handle it.  You can live it!

Henry Enters the Church

On Saturday, little Henry was baptized, and it was wonderful.  One of the things I love about our priest is he lets the rest of the crew be part of it.  Each of the kids got to hold something until he was ready for it, and they loved their jobs.  

His godparents are some of the most wonderful people we know...people who love God so strongly, who have raised two of the most amazing young adults (one who took most of these photos!) and who even lived in our house years before we did.  Henry is so blessed to have them in his little life, and he doesn't even know the half of it right now.

It was a very small ceremony, as always, and still Henry was a bit apprehensive.  

He was so intently watching Father.

Then...he started to cry.  His breath got more and more shallow, and his little lip started to poke out. He was just a little overwhelmed.

But, when Father took him to the tabernacle, he was quiet, and began touching it as if he knew exactly Who was there.  I believe he did.

Welcome home, little one.