Nearly three weeks...

     It's a quiet morning here in the Meadows... the crows are cawing outside, the curtains are still drawn, the clouds are hanging around not letting any sunshine in this morning and Ava's happily asleep in her bassinet, Timothy's at work and Martha's at daycare and here I sit in the living room.  Contemplating the last few days and weeks, contemplating where life is at right now, trying to figure out the meaning of it all at present.  It's been a challenging few weeks - I know I haven't written much and maybe that's because everything seems a little jumbled up in my head.  Ever since we received our CT results and plunged back into the world of chemo and cancer care and all that goes with it, it's been difficult to reconcile things in my head.  We've struggled with the dichotomy of switching from a joyful welcoming of our second daughter into our lives to dealing with the realities of starting chemo again.  Our dear Ava is nearly three weeks old already - yesterday or today (depending on which doctor you talk to) was her official due date and she's already been with us for three weeks.  We cherish her little baby noises, her sweet soft head, her intoxicating baby scent, her sad cries and whimpers when she thinks we're depriving her of sustenance even as her tummy is full of the latest bottle.  She's our miracle baby to be sure!   Martha is still loving her although not so much when she's wailing.  She likes "her baby" and has been in general a good helper and gentle big sister.  Last night we went bowling with some couples from church in lieu of Halloween antics and that was a very big night for her - she was super excited - so neat to share her joy and her love of life!
      Chemo number 7 started yesterday - in a sense kinda starting over again - and placing our hopes in the efficacy of the drugs and the wisdom of our doctors and nurses whilst trying to remember that ultimately it's not all of that that is healing but only the hand of our Father.  And that's been hard... it's been hard to pray, I'll be honest, difficult to know what and how to pray for it, difficult to know how to trust and place everything in His care when I so desperately want answers and certainties and solid ground when our ground seems to be shifting sands so often.  Chemo has been hard to adjust to again - it really hit hard yesterday with an upset stomach and just feeling totally unwell - difficult to quantify symptoms and pick them apart but just feeling unwell.  Took a long long time to feel comfortable enough to sleep last night and then of course, it's time to get up and feed a baby - every three hours or so.  Plays havoc with your emotions and your senses and having to figure out how to feed a baby in the dim half light and keep the chemo bottle from rolling off the bed and the whole terrible mix of emotions that goes with all of that.  Tears are so near the surface lately that it doesn't take much to get them rolling and I feel like I'm back at the beginning again but this time with different stresses.   \
    Timothy and I are trying our best to keep our heads in good places but I'll be honest, it's a huge challenge.  To try to remember to live for the moment, to live like you are dying is a stark truth - to say that today is the time, this is the moment, keep yourself in it... not as easy as it seems.  And people say "you're so strong" and "you're coping so well" ... not knowing the darkness of night and the endless weeping that comes along with life at present.  And I'm sorry if I'm not the person that everyone thinks I should be... I'm just living life as best as possible while all the while fearing the possibility that it might all be over sooner than I want, that I'll have limits on what I can do or be for my family, that I'll miss out on big things and leave my family on their own.  Oh I know that they will never be on their own in many ways but those fears attack and it's hard to put them away in my mind.  The rawness and reality are sometimes a lot to bear. 
     And I'm so thankful for the help that surrounds us daily in so many ways, but the sad truth is that I alone have to figure out how to live this life, how to move forward, how to put a foot in front of the other each day, how to cling on to hope that seems fleeting at times and how to enjoy the times and moments that are there.  To cherish my beautiful girls, to drink in their smells, to laugh with their funny moments, to savour the baby smiles in her sleep, to read books and listen to the comments that are made with such insight, to remember the laughs and the looks and the hugs.  To remember my amazing husband and partner who means so much to me, who works so hard for our family, who puts up with my ups and downs and still is there to love me and hold me when I'm hurting.  I long to be whole again, to not have to put up with the endless aches and pains that plague me,to forget that this cancer is lurking inside and needing to be tamed - to get over the idea of the treatment plan being to manage the cancer... that's hard to reconcile.  That this is a tough cancer and its gonna take a lot of suffering to get it under control and I pray for strength and wisdom and patience and peace and even for joy in the midst of the sorrows, for the insight to know what are good choices and how to spend my time.  I know this is a raw post, and a little window into how my mind is working lately...can be a pretty dark place at times, but I pray for those glimpses of sunlight and for those silver linings in our dark rainclouds to shine through and remind me that God is there, in the midst of the storm, in the midst of our sorrows and suffering, that Jesus has suffered and died for me and that I need to keep my eyes on the prize, even if the future seems hazy and clouded and full of mystery.