I’m not a writer. I’m definitely not one who shares my feelings to the masses. And, yet I’m here staring at the blank page of this brand new blog. This is not what I wanted and yet I feel freedom in the movement of my fingers. The number of questions I’ve been asked in the past 5 days is overwhelming at best. I’m grateful and burdened at the same time. I am an introvert and while I can share easily with my close friends, the thought of being in public right now and being bombarded with the same questions repeatedly makes me so very anxious. I know that sounds completely heartless and unkind. Please don’t read it that way. I absolutely love my church and my church family and yet I find myself terrified to walk in the doors tomorrow. It’s not at all that I don’t want people to know exactly what is going on so they can specifically pray us through this. It’s just so out of my comfort zone and honestly exhausting repeating myself so many times…not to mention that I will run the gamut of emotions each time I talk to you. I’ll cry ugly tears or laugh really loud when something funny is said just because I miss laughing and all of the sudden it feels so good. Or, maybe I will stare blankly when you talk because I lose focus so easily these days. I really should wear a caution sign that says, “Speak at your own risk – highly explosive!” It’s not the me that I want to be, just so you understand. I want to be the mother and wife who has it all together and graciously thanks each and every one of you for your interest and kind words. I want to go about my days as I would have before. But, right now I can’t. I feel paralyzed, devastated, and overwhelmingly sad.
In the first couple of days the number of “What can I do’s” was impressive. So many people care. I felt like the least I could do was to answer each text, email, Facebook message, etc. The problem was I had no idea how to answer one single question, much less all of them. I wasn’t even sure how I would make it to the next hour because sadness had taken over. Those open-ended questions became work for me in that moment. I had to think. I had to make decisions. I didn’t even know how I would pull myself off the couch when it was time for bed, much less what someone could do for me. I pulled it together for a brief moment as the messages were rolling in. Someone graciously offered to snow blow our driveway this winter if we ever have the need. It was like a light bulb went off in my head and I thought, okay, I can do this. If someone offers something, I can just say, “Yes, thank you.” How hard can that be? So, I sat there for a few more minutes feeling really good about my decision. People want to help. I probably need them to help. I can’t answer the open-ended questions, but I can totally say yes to offers of support. This is good. Then, boom! Less than 5 minutes later, someone offered their bone marrow. My head spun. All I knew is that we are definitely facing cancer. That’s it. I didn’t know if we would need bone marrow, but I sure as heck knew that my plan of survival was completely foiled. I can’t say, “Yes, thank you.” to bone marrow. As the days went on, there were words coming at me right and left – I’m thinking of you, praying for you, more what can I do’s, I’m sending good vibes your way (my favorite non-believer phrase), and I’m even getting cancer articles to read about vitamin therapy and essential oils’ healing powers. You guys!! I love your hearts and I love you. I know that absolutely 100% of the words that have come my way are pure and honest love and support. It’s just a lot. So much. And, I’ve found myself on this journey I never wanted to be on. I cling to God’s word like never before.
When I was a kid still living at home, my mom, an RN, used to have an interest in stories of moms who had Munchausen by proxy. We would sit and watch 20/20 and Dateline specials on this insane disorder. And, we would cry together for these kids and shake our heads wondering how these parents could feed off of making their children sick to gain attention. And, yet, we knew that it was a real disorder that they struggled with and needed help for. I always knew I wanted to be a mommy. I’m pretty sure I got my first doll before I was old enough to walk and anytime someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, it was always “a mommy.” I may have had cabbage patch dolls in my room through my sophomore year of high school and I may still remember their names. Within the first week of meeting Matt, I asked him if he loved God and wanted to be a dad. Check. Check. Time to get married. But, never in any of my plans or playing house, did my baby get cancer. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t want to do this. And, I definitely do not have what those Munchausen moms had. I do not need the attention that a sick child brings. I don’t want a team of doctors working on my child. I don’t want to ride this emotional roller coaster. I don’t want any of it. And, yet here I am. This is my story. And, this blog will serve as my free therapy.