Bravery

Yesterday my mom text my sister and me a picture.

Of a pile of hair.

Her hair.

After her morning shower.

It was time.

She told Brittany today would be the day.

I knew I wanted to be there,

but with a sick kid home from school, I wasn't sure I would be able to.

Luckily, I have an amazing mother in law who offered to watch him so I could go.

We loaded up and headed East.

When I got there and saw her, 

hair noticeably thinner,

patches of scalp now showing,

my heart ached.

She is sick and this was going to be our violent shove into reality.

Family came to support.

Her mother,

nieces,

daughters,

and husband. 

We stood around her as she sat down and covered her face with a towel.

My sister put the razor to her head a few times,

then backed away,

tears running down her cheeks.

"It's okay" my mom said noticing her hesitation.

And so she began. 

Little by little,

hair fell to the floor.

My mother cried into the towel.

Brittany cried as she dropped hair into a pile on the floor.

And I cried behind the lens of my camera.

Apart from sniffles and the sound of the razor, the room was quiet.

And reverent.

And then it was done.

She uncovered her face and smiled.

Sympathetically as if to say she was sorry.

She was still beautiful.

We hugged.

We cried.

We smiled.

And then we tied a scarf on her head and made bread.

Gratitude Monday Tuesday

A day late again.

Oh well.

Yesterday was a pretty great day.

And easy for my heart to be filled with gratitude.

Prayers were answered yesterday.

Temple promptings were confirmed.

And so today, I am grateful for the temple.

About four and half years ago, I lived only 5 minutes from the Gila Valley Temple.

It was a defining time of my life.

Decisions needed to be made.

Big decisions.

Life altering decisions.

And not just life altering for me,

life altering for a two year old Camden as well.

With a built in babysitter,

I had the opportunity to attend the temple a lot.

I spent hours in the celestial room.

Crying.

Praying.

Begging for answers.

For direction.

And though big promptings were never felt,

peace was.

Comfort was.

And though resounding answers never came,

love did.

Humility did.

Several months ago as I struggled with a question,

frustration and doubt filled my heart.

After one particularly hard morning, I decided to go to the temple.

In the celestial room I cried.

And prayed.

And listened.

And this time, the answer did come.

A simple one word answer.

I drove home feeling such gratitude for a Heavenly Father who listened to me,

comforted me,

answered me.

Over the course of the next few months, 

I had to rely on faith.

Faith on what I felt in the temple.

The answer I felt in my heart.

Doubts came and I wondered if I really did hear what I heard.

Maybe it was just my mind telling myself what I wanted to hear.

But I patiently waited.

And yesterday, that one word answer was confirmed.

I thought about my experience in the temple that day.

I thought about the faith that was required of me.

I thought about how blessed I am to have a place I can go where the veil of this life is a little thinner and my Heavenly Father and Savior are a little closer.

Where peace,

and hope,

and love abound.

And my soul can rest.

Gratitude Monday Part 3

Part 3 already?!

That went so fast.

I feel like I just wrote last week's Gratitude Monday post.

Today there is a lot to get done.

Laundry.

Gym.

Groceries.

Dishes.

Meal prep.

Mom will be staying with me this week,

so I am trying to get everything done before she gets here tonight.

My third installment of Gratitude Monday, had me contemplating at my keyboard.

Navy played by my feet,

drawing, 

talking, 

singing.

With a big smile on her face, 

she showed me how her pen made clicking sounds.

Then she crawled up on the chair next to me,

plugged her nose and said,

"What's that stink?"

When I told her I didn't smell anything she said,

"It's probably you."

Thanks Nav.

Then she climbed up on the desk, 

grabbed the harmonica from the shelf,

and started playing.

"Dance mom"

I danced in my seat.

"No, mom. Stand up and dance."

"You dance."

So she handed me the harmonica, 

climbed down,

and danced around my room as I played.

As she twirled, I smiled.

My heart full of love for her.

So today, 

I am grateful for my daughter.

Spunky.

Smart.

Sassy.

Sweet.

At 14 weeks pregnant, I scheduled a 3D ultrasound.

I just couldn't wait any longer.

"It's a girl!" she said.

I cried.

It was exactly what I wanted. 

And she has brought me more joy than I ever thought possible.

She is funny.

And clever.

And makes us laugh when she looks at us out of the corner of her eyes.

And when she says "Probably" in almost every comment she makes.

And when she sings to "Let it go" and knows all the words.

When she rides her push bike, falls off, and pretends to die.

When she dances during the musical number during sacrament meeting. 

When she also does a somersault during said musical number.

She is joy.

Pure joy.

And I could never thank my Heavenly Father enough for entrusting her to me.

Grateful Monday Tuesday Part 2

I started this post yesterday, but things got busy, as life does.

So there it sat.

Until now.

I have thought a lot about what I wanted to say today. 

The cancer storm has calmed somewhat, and we are all catching our breath finally. 

The road ahead is still long, 

but we hope it is a steady one.

There has been more time to reflect.

More time to feel blessed.

Feel gratitude. 

For my Grateful Monday part 2,

I am grateful for my friends.

About 18 months ago, Jason and I sat down and talked about what the next year would bring.

There was still a lot to do on his path to medical school. 

Shadow physicians.

Volunteer.

Study and take the MCAT.

He had about 7 months to do it all.

He felt overwhelmed about the limited time he had before applications opened.

We decided to wait another year to apply.

We were so happy here.

We loved our home.

Our neighborhood.

Camden had made great friends.

We felt really good about postponing it. 

When my mom was diagnosed and the news started to spread,

the outpouring of love and support from my friends was incredible. 

T-shirts were purchased.

Babysitting was willingly accepted.

Meals were brought in.

And I'm not even the one with cancer!

As I was talking to Jason one night, 

I understood just why we had felt so good about waiting a year to apply.

There is no way I would have had this kind of support anywhere else.

I am grateful we stayed so that I can be near my family at such a difficult time.

I can't imagine how I would feel in this situation if I was living across state lines. 

But I am also grateful for the arms of friends that have wrapped around me

and served me and my family with no questions asked.

You know who you are,

and I will never be able to thank you enough.

I am lucky.

I am blessed.

I am so incredibly grateful.

Buttermilk

Last week was well...

Hell Week.

As I accompanied my mom and dad to appointments last week, 

I was focused. 

I had a purpose.

I had a duty to them.

I was doing, and working, and talking, and explaining, and asking, and scheduling.

I held it together.

For them.

When they left to go home Friday after four full days of all things cancer,

I was alone.

Camden was at school.

Navy napping.

I sat on the couch and it all came crashing down on me.

I had no job.

No duty.

No purpose.

It was just me and my thoughts.

My fears.

My grief.

I sobbed into the pillow, my shoulders shaking.

I was tired.

Emotional stress was taking its toll on my body.

I had no motivation to do anything.

I didn't want to go to work.

I didn't want to do the laundry.

Or my dishes.

Or make dinner.

Homework was forgotten.

Hair went unwashed.

I did manage to make a menu and go grocery shopping.

Then Saturday as I looked in my fridge, I noticed two large bottles of buttermilk and half and half.

I could not remember why I bought those.

I'm sure they were for a recipe I had planned, 

but when I looked back at my menu, no recipe called for buttermilk.

Or half and half. 

So there they sit.

A reminder of the mental fog that was hell week.

The fog is clearing,

and the grief comes and goes.

The fear stays constant.

And brings me to my knees most mornings.

And to tears most evenings, as I cry into Jason's arms until I fall asleep.

Twelve weeks until my mom's surgery.

Twelve weeks of chemo.

Twelve weeks of side effects.

Twelve weeks of watching my beloved mother fight.

Three (ish) weeks until she loses her hair.

Twelve weeks of watching my dad tenderly hold my mom's hand every opportunity he gets,

knowing every day with her is a blessing.

And that's just the first three sessions.

After her surgery, will be another twelve weeks.

Another three sessions.

For the next six months, our lives will be consumed with cancer.

So until this nightmare is over,

and my mother is cancer free,

I will find things to be grateful for.

And on Mondays I will sit down and blog about my gratitude. 

Because I will not let cancer overshadow blessings and tender mercies from my Heavenly Father.

On my first "Gratitude Monday",

I am grateful for my loving husband.

Without being asked, he has picked up the slack this week and been the quiet comfort that I have needed.

I always tease him that he is so unsympathetic towards me.

He's a very tough love kind of husband.

But this week has been different.

And my love for him has grown as I cling to him for support.

He even planned a surprise date for me Saturday night. 

We laughed, we judged other restaurant go-ers from our corner booth,

and we didn't talk about cancer once. 

It was exactly what I needed.

He is exactly what I need.

And exactly who I want by my side during the uncertain months ahead.

This week, our family prepares to pull up our boot straps and face the enemy.

Hell week is over.

And now it is time to fight.

She fights.

And we pray. 

CT

My mom had her CT today.

The images were accessible to her doctor one hour after her appointment, but an oncology radiologist has to make his report as well.

We hope this will happen at some point tomorrow and we will hear back from my mom's gyn/onc. She will give us the results and a better understanding of what's going on, and if the surgery is still on for Tuesday, which is what we are hoping for.

Surgery Tuesday means the cancer, even if it has spread to other tissues, is still in small amounts.

If we don't hear from her doctor tomorrow, we should hear from her Friday. 

Tomorrow she has her pre-op appointment with an internal medicine doc.

I will keep everyone as updated as I can! 

If you have any questions or want updates sooner, feel free to call me or my sister.

My mom is feeling fatigued and doesn't always have the energy to relay the day's news repeatedly.

She is emotionally and physically drained as you can imagine.

We are all trying to just keep our heads above water at this point and none of us really know what to do with ourselves since we feel so helpless. 

We so appreciate your prayers and fasts on my mom's behalf. 

Keep em' comin.

Love you all.

-Stacey

Readying

Today was a long day.

4 hours at the oncologist's office.

We got some answers.

But still have a lot of questions.

Here is what we know:

Because of my mom's ascites (fluid in her belly),

it is usually a good indicator of advanced stages of cancer. (Stages III or IV)

The surgeon will stage the cancer during the surgery when she can see the entire picture.

Once the surgery is over, we will have a pretty good idea of what we're up against. 

Tissue samples will be sent to pathology and can take up to a week to get results, so 100% diagnosis won't be known until then. 

Because my mom had only a pelvic MRI done, the gyn/onc can't see the other organs that could possibly be involved. 

A CT scan is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. 

At this point, the doctor thinks it's probably ovarian cancer, but because she can't see everything she needs to clearly, she can't say for certain until she has an oncologist radiologist read the CT results. 

It could be attached to her colon. To her uterus. 

She just can't be positive.

If the cancer has spread and the disease is in large quantities, 

chemotherapy will be done first to shrink the cancer.

Surgery will be scheduled 3 months later.

If the cancer has spread but the disease is in small quantities, 

surgery will be done first.

She will have a radical hysterectomy as well as removing any and all diseased tissue they can see.

This is called "debulking".

The surgery is usually 3-4 hours.

She will be in the hospital 2-7 days.

Three weeks after surgery, she will start chemotherapy. 

She will do six rounds.

So here's the plan as we know it:

Tomorrow - CT scan

Thursday - Pre-op appt with internal medicine doctor

Tuesday - Debulking surgery at 12:30

(This is of course if she doesn't have to do chemo first)

My mom has such a positive attitude and such a great support system.

She is ready to fight. 

Continue to pray for her.

She really does feel the love.