Thank you, friends, for praying for a smooth week.  It had a few bumps in the road, but we praise God for this week!  Precious normality.

Last Saturday (Feb 17^th) was the first day I could call “good”.  Sunday was less so.  But then, an entire week of feeling pretty decent.  I described it as “a slightly sick, slightly lower energy version of myself.”  When you’re living one day at a time, a week is beautifully long.

I marveled this week at the gifts God gave us through the timing of my treatment.  My hair fell out during this good week, when I had the energy to embrace it and make lemonade out of lemons (more details to follow in another post).  My birthday was this week, and I enjoyed every moment.  The first half of the day was completely normal and uneventful; the type of day that would beckon the blues on other birthdays.  But this one was all joy.  I’m not sure how to describe it.

The interesting “effect” that has followed me into the good week has been emotional (and hormonal, perhaps?).  I have not cried every day on this journey, but those days when the tears start, watch out.  Sometimes they do not stop easily!

For example, we reached the end of my birthday, and I’d planned to open a few cards and presents before bed.  I read 3 cards and cried through every one, before realizing I was done.  I did not have the emotional energy to enjoy, process, and receive the kind things people say on your birthday.  I leaned my head over on my mom, and cried and cried while she held me.  So much emotion: Joy, my kids’ excitement about my birthday, phone calls from friends, a head shaving party, not liking my appearance, putting on my wig and a brave face and going out to celebrate anyways.  And then I must have reached the end.  I was absolutely drained.

Sleep is the only reset button too.  Once I’ve had an emotional event of some sort, I’m fairly drained until I go to bed.

Regardless, I’ve loved so much of this week!   Dropping off and picking up my kiddos at preschool each day.  Taking them to the park.  Inviting Abby to join the adults at my birthday dinner; she was beside herself.  Simply feeding Kai, rocking him,  playing with him, and putting him down for naps and bed.  I got up in the middle of the night with Nate last night.  No obvious issues, but I did the run-down before putting him back to bed: Tylenol in case of pain, banana & milk snack, diaper change.  I cherished every minute with him!  He was being so cute and funny, as only a toddler can.  Suddenly, I was not side-lined.  I was able and needed, and I enjoyed every moment before slipping him back in bed.

Last night, Gabe and I celebrated 10 years since our first date.  Since we met in Durham a decade ago, we always try to return, get a cup of coffee, and reminisce.  He wanted to drive the same car he picked me up in ten years ago, the same car we drove away from our wedding in, the one that brought our four kids home from the hospital.  Praise God she made it to Durham and back!  She’s over 20 years old now.  It was such a delightful evening for us.

Will and I had a “Mommy Son date” to Harris Teeter to pick up my steroid prescription today.  I take it the day before, day of, and day after my chemo treatments.  What a ball we had soaking in life!  He is such an animated, fun three year old.  I love when he or Abby reach up to hold Mommy’s hand in the parking lot to keep them safe.  I know that won’t last long enough!

Speaking of the steroid, that’s the only reason I’m up past midnight on the evening before chemo #2.  Every day this week, I’ve wanted to write an update.  But I certainly did not think it would be tonight!  Instead, I was hoping for a full night’s sleep.  After tossing and turning for an hour, taking half an Ambien, eating several high protein snacks, and enjoying listening to Gabe sleep peacefully, here I am.  I guess I’ll take another Ambien and lay perfectly still until I finally fall asleep.

Round 2 in the morning.  It’s been a precious break, but now, we’re back to work.  I have not been dreading it.  What I want is to be well; for God to bring healing.  Treatment may be the way He chooses to do that.  So I am ready.  It would be sadistic if I was looking forward to the side effects of the chemo.  I am not.  But I long for healing, and welcome any part of the journey that can potentially kill this cancer.  Thank you for continuing to pray for God to heal my body.

God is able, He is completely powerful and mighty.  We have no doubt that the God who raised Jairus’ daughter from the dead can bring healing in my body.  Gabe read Mark 9 to me tonight where Jesus cast out an unclean spirit that had afflicted a boy since childhood.  Instantly the pain of a desperate father who brought his boy to Jesus turned to joy!  We read this passage often because it embodies where we are:

Mark 9:21-24

Jesus asked the boy’s father, “How long has he been like this?”

“From childhood,” he answered. “It has often thrown him into fire or water to kill him. But if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.”

“‘If you can’?” said Jesus. “Everything is possible for one who believes.”

Immediately the boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”

Interesting enough, after Jesus drove out the unclean spirit, and told him not to return (I love that, and am asking that this cancer would not be allowed to return), the passage ends by his disciples asking him questions behind closed doors:

Mark 9:28-29

²⁸ After Jesus had gone indoors, his disciples asked him privately, “Why couldn’t we drive it out?”

²⁹ He replied, “This kind can come out only by prayer.^[a]”

We are learning on every side the importance, the absolute power, the necessity of prayer.  We are praying desperately, bolding, persistently, and trustingly that God would bring healing.  And we believe He will.  Thank you for praying with us.