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.

On the Day She Turned Two Months

 

She had her first out-patient procedure.

We are here in Denver as I type this post, and she's under anesthesia. This morning began a series of things in a search for more answers and a plan to proceed.

Originally, doctors were going to remove a skin tag in her diaper area.  However, in thinking more about it, they decided to wait.  Based on its size and the unknown intricacies of her vascular malformation at this point, they didn't want to risk the bleeding at this point.

Also, we have seen a bit of oozing out of her belly button, so they have ordered a renal ultrasound to rule out a couple of things with that.

They have completed the vaginal and rectal exploration, determining surgery is not necessary in either place - praise the Lord!  And, she's currently having an MRI of her abdomen, pelvis, and spine - as well as an MRA of her abdomen and pelvis.  All of that imaging will help us see exactly where the spinal cord is tethered, how deep and intricate the vascular malformation is, and if there are any other issues that we might not currently be aware of.  

So, we wait.

In our two months of waiting and finding answers, of wondering what time will bring and of trying new things to make her more comfortable, I have learned a lot.  And while our cross is not someone else's, and knowing there will always be someone with a much heavier cross, God has revealed so much.

I've learned...

...there is still so much goodness and beauty to be found...even though her body is broken in ways, her soul is whole, and she brings us so much joy.

...when people offer to help, it's important I let them, as much I may feel guilty I am not able to help them right away in return.

...that Jeremy and my relationship has never been as important.

...there are days when I basically seem to have a good handle on things and days that hit me out of the blue to remind me life is peaks and valleys.

...sometimes it feels like I can't possibly think of anything else.

...health issues in one child can cause me to feel like I can't find a good balance in taking care of the noticeably sick one while also meeting the needs of the others.

...help comes in so many forms: meals, prayers, texts, calls, caring for kids, sitting and visiting, or even caring for your helpers.  But, it's important to let others help in the way they feel called (have I mentioned I struggle with this, hehe?!). 

...a million cares and concerns can be eased with the weight of a sweet baby on my shoulder.

...we are never alone.

...God prepares us for these moments years before we face them and He gives us the grace necessary for the moment (maybe not the year, or the day, or even the hour to come)...but the moment He has covered.

...miracles and affirmations aren't always what we envision, but if our eyes are open, they are all around.

More than anything, I've learned this...

...it is important to reach out.  

I've spent my life not knowing exactly what to say.  I've "put myself in someone's position" and convinced myself they want to be left alone or not bothered.  I've never been able to "understand what he/she was going through."  And so I haven't sent the text.  I haven't made the call.  I haven't popped a note in the mail to let someone know simply that I care.  I haven't stopped by to give a hug.  And, I've realized now...it doesn't matter what you say (by and large).  It doesn't matter how you show your love.  It doesn't matter if you were "never that close".  There is nothing too small.  Reach out.

Say something.

I have learned that so beautifully in the last nine weeks, and the only way I can describe it is humbling.  To feel encapsulated by prayer and love is indescribable.  I sit here and think, "How will we ever return all of this love?"

But, I know this.  Our strength has come from the prayers of hundreds/thousands of people...many who we don't know.  When people say, "I don't know how you are doing this."  I do.  Because of you.  God through you.  

Thank you.

(a few days later...)

She came out of anesthesia like a champ.  She was downing the sugar water and "talking" to anyone who came to her bedside.  

The next day in our meeting with dermatology we learned there is not much more we can do for her ulcers.  We are doing the best we can, and they may heal or we may struggle with them for some time.  Only time will tell.

The following day was full of appointments to discuss results.  

We learned that her vascular malformation at this point does not appear to be very deep...a huge answer to prayer!  There was a mass on the scan that they thought was worth doing bloodwork on - it came back clear, praise God!  Her kidneys also looked great!

The spine was a different story.  Her sacrum is very "messed up" and her spinal cord tether is one of the most complicated cases they've ever seen.  The neurosurgeon is unsure if he will be able to de-tether it, but he will try!  It will likely pose problems with bowel and bladder control as well as mobility.  

But again, we wait, and we pray.  And we do the very best we can with God's grace moment by moment.  

And we ask God for healing, because miracles do happen.

Anything Guys Can Do...

...Sophie can, too.

Not really, but she loves doing almost anything her brothers do, especially when it involves her Daddy!

We got this neat little hammer and nail set for Christmas, and it's been a great way to learn shapes, colors and a bit of fine motor skills.

I'm not one to think boys and girls should be the same.  I don't think toys and clothing should all become gender neutral.  I feel like there are two genders for a reason and that each is uniquely beautiful in what it can only do.

That being said, I love that Sophie has interest in problem solving and doing things with tools.  She has great examples in her older brothers and her daddy.  I want for this little girl to be able to think her way out of problems and work hard to do everything she is capable of...even if it is with her baby doll in hand!

Advent with a Mean Mom

If you're wondering what it is like during the holidays around these parts...let me tell you (again!). 

So...as with anything I deem important, I get a vision in my mind about what all I want to do, and how special I want to try to make things for my kids, and well, it might not work out exactly as planned.  

Advent started off with a bang.  I made popovers (which I've never done before but I highly recommend now with some honey and butter), and I opened my advent journal from Blessed is She (available for digital download still).

I didn't actually read the journal at the beginning of the day, but let me tell you, I should have.

Instead, I woke up a little on the easily-irritated side.  But, we pushed on anyway.  We got out the decorations (besides the tree ones because we don't have our tree yet).

Immediately, the kids tore into the boxes (when I has explicitly said to wait so we could do one at a time - I mean, come on, the oldest is only six and Christmas decorations might be just a bit exciting).

They set up the Nativity...

...and then I put down my camera because between taking photos, I was sternly warning them of what not to do.

I also had a very specific routine planned for the evening...opening an Advent book, having a cup of hot chocolate, and hanging our Jesse Tree ornament.

Would you believe that they really didn't pay a bit of attention during this very important reading??? Or that they might have just constantly asked for more peppermint sticks?!

And, this one maybe yelled the entire time.

And, the next night (and the night after that) really didn't go much better in terms of them being enlightened with the beauty of what's to come?

Peter's face might say it all.

Or his...

And, again, my journal sits on the table waiting for me to slow down, take a peek and truly give Him His proper place.

I know I'm half-way joking about this, but really, I stink at the "important" stuff.  I want so, so badly for it all to go so well...to make memories for them like I have of my childhood.  I expect too much.  I don't necessarily do too much, but even if it's super simple, I want there to be meaning.  The funny thing is, I don't do any of it for anyone else to know about.  It's not like it's a "keeping up with the Joneses" thing.  Instead it's a keeping up with Britt's idealism thing, and that's what makes it all so dumb.  The truth is, these little ones are just excited to be a part of anything, and it's special to them in a much more basic level than I can understand anymore, sadly.  They need a momma who is smiling during this season, not one who is yelling at them or faking it through gritted teeth.  But, sometimes I just can't figure out how to stop.

I just want it all to be good.  I want to finish my photo editing and be able to take a breath during this season with them before we enter the season of life with a newborn.  I want John Paul's December birthday to still feel important.  I want to make the cookies we always make during Christmas.  I want to buy the gifts that will let others know just how special they are to us.  I want our freezer to be full of meals early, in the event that this little boy shows up before his due date.  I want to get down on their level and help them appreciate the love and care that goes into giving and the thankfulness that comes with receiving.  I want to use Advent to prepare our home and hearts for the life-changing gift that comes on Christmas.  

What I want is good.  My execution of it all...not so much.  I stay up too late trying to get things done so I don't have to do them during the day.  So, during the day, I'm lacking a bit of rest, and I snap more easily, have "less time" for them and wish I would have just let some of it go the night before. Then, the night comes and I think "Oh, I can get this done and have a bit more time tomorrow" and the cycle continues.  

This isn't Britt's pity party (although I've had those from time to time).  This is more of the real Britt. The one who I'd venture to say knows what to do, just not how to do it.  I don't know exactly what these next three plus weeks will look like.  My prayer is that I shift my focus...to that of being a better mom/example, even if that means not doing things to get there.  Because when they look back...when I look back...I want to have yelled less, been stressed less, and cared less about making every minute memory worthy, even if it means doing less.  Instead I want to live more, sit back and watch more, and truly leave these weeks open for God to move more in this home.

I've got a long, long way to go.  But, maybe this admitting is the first step in getting there!

Here's to a little more love and a little less stress as we celebrate this glorious time of year.

Bread in a Bag

Last Thursday, my boys wanted to make some bread for Elley - we're over there some Fridays, and they see her eating bread (she fasts on Fridays), so they think she loves it and asked if they could make her some.  Well, it was very convenient that just an hour earlier I was scrolling through my Facebook feed and found this.  I was so excited!  I thought, "This is easy enough!"  Ummm.

So, while Jeremy had Sophie and John Paul feeding the animals, Carter and Peter began!

It was really pretty easy and a lot of fun for the boys!  However, silly me started the bread-baking project about 10 minutes before dinner, and it got a bit messy.  And, then it wasn't working exactly as I thought it should.  And, then Genevieve got upset that she wasn't eating, blah blah blah.  Do you guys get more stressed the louder your house becomes?  I do.

Then, Jeremy walked in as I was getting the dough out of the bag to put into the pan, and with raised brows said, "New recipe?"

 That might have made me a bit more frustrated/tense than I already was.
 Patience/ease is not my strong suit.

 But!  The boys had so much fun!  And, really, it was pretty easy.

Basically we kept adding flour, squishing the dough and then letting it sit.

I will say the last cup of flour was very hard to get mixed in.

Which you can see here...and this is where I tell you I threw my hands up and thought, who cares if this actually works.

This is how it looked...not like it was supposed to.  I know...beautiful!

Though, in all honesty, I really liked the taste of it.  We all did...especially Elley!

Just Life

My blogging seems to go in waves these days.  Some days I am really prepared.  Others, I'm not.  I seem to fall in the the "not" category as of late.  I keep telling myself it doesn't matter.  Some day I'll believe it...that what I do, and how much I get done, will never matter.

Life just keeps going.  Like this small-town parade.  It was part of our Saturday last week...like the first Saturday in August when I was growing up.  The XIT rodeo and reunion in Dalhart, TX.  Now my kids get to enjoy the parade, and some day we'll make it back to the rodeo and festivities.

 For now, we are doing things like crawling all over the place (this little monkey with two teeth and an army crawl like no other).
 

We're dealing with speech issues, and an appointment with the ENT to try to determine if tubes are necessary (read that as back to back ear infections this summer and lots of two-year-old tears) for this sweet girl.

We're getting ready to celebrate a big birthday for the number one man in the house and in between booked days on the calendar, enjoying time with our extended family.

And, we just lost the first tooth of the oldest little boy in the house (I always dreaded the moment - yes, mostly for the idea of pulling it, but almost equally for the overt sign of growing up).  I'm still alive, folks.  And, it really wasn't too heart-wrenching.

I've been watching this little guy make others feel special, in pulling up a chair next to a stranger at a hotel and asking to visit with her over breakfast, in getting up to find his waitress to tell her how delicious his meal was at that same hotel, and in paying someone who made us tortillas out of the kindness of her heart a dollar from his piggy bank just so she knew she was appreciated.

This sweet Peter has been spending more mornings with his Dad...always wanting to work and brining back treasures for his brothers in the form of dried up Devil's claws and tiny pieces of petrified wood.

I've been doing quite a few photo shoots as Jeremy so seamlessly takes over everything at home, and every single time I question whether I'm doing the right thing.

And, we've been preparing for the start of school, in just a few short weeks.  

This little guy has had his toy pistol attached to his hip for days, and he would rival any old western movie comedian out there.

We've acquired sixteen guineas...and lost all of them (who knew they'd just leave one day).

We spent a spring prepping a garden that has yielded two cucumbers and a couple dozen new potatoes.  I need serious help.

And, our days really have just sped by.  I'm either in the moment or looking back and hating that I wasn't.  These little ones are teaching me new things every single day, and I'm so very blessed to be their momma.  I just wish I knew how to slow.it.all.down.  For the most part.

Until then, I can rest assured that I'm surrounded by the greatest blessings in this life.  The fall doesn't look any less busy, and while that mainly rattles me, I'm resting easy tonight knowing there is a precious soul inside...and if I get nothing else done, that will be enough.  Our living and loving will be enough...

 ...and when it doesn't seem like it, I can grab a piece of candy from this kid's ten pound bucket and just breathe.  Because, everything that matters is right in front of my face, every morning I wake.