‘My daughter has cancer’ is a sentence I will never get used to saying outline, nor do I want to. Today, I had to tell that to a stranger in the grocery store when she asked about Marjorie’s PICC line. “My daughter has cancer.” Her simple question was one of the hardest I’ve ever had to answer and it left me in tears on Aisle 10. I haven’t cried in weeks, like really cry, ugly cry. I’ve wanted to, many times,…
I hate the saying: “There’s always someone who has it worse.” It completely minimizes the feelings we have inside about our current situation, no matter how ‘bad’ or ‘not so bad’ it may be. Minimization kept me from seeking treatment for years and it kept me from owning the severity of my eating disorder. “I’m not that bad,” was the perpetual theme of my eating disorder. As I went to treatment my ‘not that bad’ mentality exploded. “Look at her,” I would think…
One month. On this very day one month ago, our lives changed forever. The doctor said the word no parent ever wants to hear. Cancer. It has been a month of terror, love, heartache and gratitude. It’s hard to believe it has only been a month. My tired body and mind would disagree. It feels like we received the diagnosis years ago. I live in a state of exhaustion, holding my breath and knocking on every piece of wood I can find…
Have you ever been asked that interview question, “Who would you invite to a dinner party?” This thought popped into my head the other night and I immediately knew my guest list. Brene Brown, Molly Barker, and Ellen Degeneres If you know me, then this list does not shock you. If you don’t, well here’s why: GRATITUDE. It is a word that sings in my spirit. It connects me to others and helps guide me through these darker days in…
Growing up, I was your All-American Catholic school girl. I rocked the plaid uniform, penny loafers, went to mass and stood in line (well sometimes). Beginning in middle school and especially in high school, we were required to do service hours. From soup kitchens to mission trips, girls raced to finish their hours at the end of the year. It was so engrained in us that we had to do it, I don’t think we gave much thought as to…
Rocking my baby in a dark, quiet room on the Oncology Floor at Wolfson Children’s Hospital. If it weren’t for the monitor beeps and seven wires attached to her, I would think we were home. I find my thoughts wandering in these dark quiet hours… How did we get here? Why does my child, my baby, have cancer? Why is my baby fighting for her life…again? Why? Why? Why? I rarely have tears these days. Just knots in my stomach…
I splashed cold water on my face and buried my face in the hospital grade paper towel. I hesitated to remove the stiff towel. Maybe if I wait long enough this nightmare will be over. None of this will have happened. I will remove the paper towel and look up to see my bathroom and my baby girl happy and healthy, kicking in her bouncy seat. No luck. I looked up to see my tired reflection staring back at me…
I’ve stared at this blank screen since last night. If you know me, you know I am never at a loss for words. But overwhelmed is the only word that comes to mind right now. Overwhelmed with GRATITUDE. The outpouring of love, support and prayer is simply overwhelming. You all love us and we FEEL every ounce of it. Wow. I mean every ounce. You all have practically made Miraculous Marjorie a trending topic on social media. So an update…
Cancer. I’m in a nightmare and want to wake up. Neuroblastoma in her liver and adrenal glands. Biopsy and more testing to come. Definitive answers Friday or Monday. Jordan and I are completely devastated, but we move forward. We have attacked the nurses and doctors with questions and they have been phenomenal. They are truly Angels from above. Thank you for the love and prayers, calls and texts. We have heard them, read them and found comfort in them. Cancer…
We wait. And wait. And wait. Last night was the longest of my life. I forced myself to lie down because all I wanted to do was stand and watch my baby sleep. I feared sleep. It was the enemy. I knew that if I drifted to sleep I would have to wake up and realize this nightmare all over again. It was too painful. Thankfully, Marjorie slept very well and awoke restless at 4:30am. I rocked her for three…