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Sometimes we cry

Sometimes we cry

I have 13 days until I find out the next step of this journey. Lucy seems ok and acts like a healthy little girl. With that said, I can’t shake the fact that her last AFP level was elevated slightly and there was a spot on her last MRI. My mother says she will be okay. My husband says we aren’t going to worry until we know that there is something to worry about. That’s a good plan. That makes perfect sense. She hasn’t had to sleep in the hospital since July. We’ve had 2.5 months of bliss. We’ve had weekends together. We have a morning routine. She has hair. She doesn’t have dark circles anymore. She squeals from laughter not pain.

The other beauty of the last 10 weeks is that my support system has also had a brake. I have been so fortunate to be able to draw strength from people in my life. With that said, they’ve been off the hook for awhile.

This week has been tough for one reason or another. My mind has been racing too much and I’ve Googled WAY too much. I attended a ladies Bible study Monday evening. I looked around the room and I could literally remember what each and every person in the room has done for my family this year. Then we sang this song…

We're part of the family, that's been born again Part of the family, whose love knows no end For Jesus has saved us, and made us His own Now were part of the family, that's on it's way home

Chorus: And sometimes we laugh together Sometimes we cry Sometimes we share together Heartaches and sighs Sometimes we dream together Of how it will be When we all get to heaven, God's family

That’s when I got completely overwhelmed and the tears started streaming. We’ve cried together way too much this year.

So let’s just honest in case any other cancer moms are reading and want to know how I’m doing 10 weeks post cancer. It’s still hard. I’m scared. I don’t want to cry anymore – like ever. I’m so ready for her next appointment on the 28th. I’m also enjoying the moment in time where I can pretend nothing is or will ever be wrong with my baby girl.

I will be okay. I’m going to assume it’s normal to have anxiety for at least the first year after your child goes through cancer/chemotherapy. Right?


Making Sense

Making Sense