My Guardian Angel

I miss my girl.  I miss her voice.  Her laugh.  Her smile.  I miss running my hands through that beautiful curly hair.  I miss watching our favorite shows together.  I miss nagging her about water intake.  I miss praying with her.  I miss everything about her.  Absolutely everything.

My sweet girl is no longer in pain.  I know it.  She is at peace.  I believe it.  She has eternal life with Jesus.  God promised it.  I trust His word even though I struggle to see the purpose in this particular plan.  He will reveal it in His time.

For now, we deal with the "firsts."  The first night home.  The first trip out of town.  The first holiday season.  I struggle like crazy with those stinking "On This Day" reminders on social media.  They're simply proof Paige was right; I sure did take a ton of pictures of that girl.  Each time one pops up, it tugs--actually, it yanks with great force--at my heart.  I take a moment to catch my breath and then take in every ounce of that beautiful smile.

Grief--and working through it--puts you on a very long, very rough road.  Losing a child doesn't just hurt.  It is devastating.  Elizabeth Stone likened having a child to forever having "your heart go walking around outside your body."  There is such truth in that statement.  I carried that precious baby for nine months--actually a bit longer--and knew everything about her routine during that time.  Elbows in my ribs--all day, every day.  Hiccups at 7 pm on the dot--every single night.  She even "craved" Sonic slushes several days a week; of course, I obliged.  I had to take care of my girl.  Fast forward to cancer diagnosis.  After diagnosis.  After diagnosis.  Medications, appointments--you name it, I was part of it.  Wiping her tears, holding her hand, cheering her on, and just plain being in awe of that girl.  Paige and I joked about being joined at the hip--and for almost three years, we truly were.  We drove each other crazier than we ever thought we could, yet at the same time grew closer than we ever dreamed possible.  Each day I'm trying to remind myself that she's still here with me, just in a different capacity.  That heart that walked around outside my body is now watching over our family.

Kinda great having such a cool guardian angel.

Behold, I send an angel before you to guard you on the way...   Exodus 23:20

A New Chapter Begins...

Our family began a new chapter this week.  Yet to be titled, it's a work in progress as we try to navigate this new road, this uncharted territory that finds just three of us in a place where there once were four.  Paige will always be with us, of course--on our minds and in our hearts.  In pictures of that beautiful face with the unforgettable smile.  In audio recordings of a beautiful voice at her silliest.  In videos showing crazy dance moves.  It's the whole "not being able to reach out and hug her" thing that's so stinking hard.

A little less than two weeks ago, Paige received her healing.  Her peace.  Her miracle.  As badly as I wanted that healing here--as hard as we all prayed for just that--it simply wasn't part of God's purpose for her life.  We will never know (on this side of Heaven) just how many lives our sweet girl touched in her 16 years.  What I do know is that her light will continue to shine.  Boyce, Jeremy, and I will make sure of that.  We have some pretty big shoes to fill, but Team Paige will carry on with a purpose.

I'm not done writing about our family's journey of faith as we enter this new season of our lives.  I am, however, altering the name of the blog--changing it from Pray for Paige to Team Paige.  Seems like a good place to start.  The blog address will stay the same for now, and older posts will still be accessible.  Gotta keep sharing our girl's story.  She deserves nothing less.

In the meantime, the boys and I will follow Paige's lead in living out Romans 12:12 - Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.  I do hope you'll join us.

See You in a Little Bit, Sweet Girl

October 24, 2016.  Heaven gained its newest angel as our sweet Paige went to be with Jesus.  She finally received the healing and peace she'd been wanting and needing for so very long.  I'm so very blessed to have spent 16 years with that amazing young lady.  Brave.  Strong.  Determined.  Selfless in prayer for others.  Joy in the face of adversity.  Steadfast in faith.  I want to be like her when I grow up.

I miss my sidekick something crazy.  After all, we were joined at the hip for almost 3 years.  Next to my husband, the girl was my best friend.  I talked with her quite often about how something good--or lots of "something goods"--would come from her struggles.  We will continue to share her story and make sure her light continues to shine.  She deserves nothing less.  

I'll see you in a little bit, my love.

The Struggle is Much Too Real

...suffering produces endurance, endurance produces character, and character produces hope...   Romans 5: 3-5

Our family is struggling.  Struggling with feelings of helplessness as Paige is attacked yet again by the cancer monster.  Struggling to find peace in the storm that is raging.  Struggling, at times, just to remember to breathe.

As parents, my husband and I struggle to harness our thoughts as we watch our daughter fight sickness and pain.  To find the right words when there simply are none.  To put aside (as much as possible) worries about finances and work.  To focus on the here and now--and having our family of four together as much as possible, even if it's limited to the confines of a hospital room.

Our son struggles to find some kind of routine between school and hospital visits.  To get used to being at Grandma's house more than his own--though he is very well taken care of there.  He struggles with questions about Paige getting better and with answers we can't provide.

And then there's Paige.  Her struggle is the biggest of all.  Original diagnosis, relapse, and bone marrow transplant--all with bumps in the road.  A second relapse--this time with what feels like a mountain to overcome.  This girl has been through so very much, yet she continues to fight with everything she has.  Her faith overwhelms me sometimes, but it's no surprise to Our Heavenly Father.  He is here in the midst of the struggle, in the midst of the storm.

Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from Him. Truly He is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will not be shaken.   Psalm 62: 5-6

A Narrow Road

It's back.  For the third time in less than three years, we heard the word no parent should ever have to hear.  No child should ever have to hear.  No one should ever have to hear.  Cancer.

We have traveled this road since January 2014.  It has been long.  It has been difficult, yet by the grace of God we pressed on.  Through initial diagnosis and its challenges.  Through relapse and its uncertainties.  Through a bone marrow transplant and its aftermath.  We hit bump after bump after bump, yet we continued to push forward.  Paige was getting stronger every day.  There were plans to return to school.  Our family had started to experience the tiniest sliver of normalcy--when we encountered the biggest, most devastating road block thus far.

Last Thursday started out simple enough.  The kiddos slept in while I worked on a few things around the house.  We took in an afternoon movie.  It was great being able to hang out and do 'normal' things.  An early evening fever found us in the ER.  Sudden tightness in her chest meant an x-ray and subsequent CT scan.  The discovery of an all-but collapsed lung sent our girl to the operating room for placement of a chest tube, where they drained two liters of fluid.  Two liters.  A second collection chamber was attached to continue collecting the insane amount of fluid that had built up around Paige's lung, and we spent the rest of that night in the ICU.  Watching the clock.  Waiting on test results.  Hoping and praying our daughter had pneumonia or some kind of raging infection--just about anything other than what we were told a few hours later.

The leukemia is back.  After three aggressive rounds of chemo.  After radiation and still more chemo at transplant.  After donor cells created a brand new immune system to fight this stuff off.  One rogue cell (or more, I'm sure) hid out and initiated yet another attack on my daughter.  Out of nowhere, yet again.

Not only are we gearing up for a third battle with this monster called cancer, we are more limited as far as treatment options.  I've found myself describing this as a road that gets narrower with each diagnosis.

• The first time around, we traveled a large highway.  If the medications in one 'lane' weren't well-received, we could always change lanes and try something else. 
• Paige's first relapse detoured us to more of a two-lane road.  There were still some choices available, but the medications needed to be as aggressive as the leukemia.  
• Relapse after a bone marrow transplant has placed us on an even narrower road.  There are not many medications our girl hasn't seen at this point.  However, her medical team is working diligently to put combinations together that we hope will attack the cancer cells without doing more damage to her already beaten-up body.

Over the last week, we have had conversations with doctors--and with our daughter--that have literally had us on the floor.  We have been angry.  We have been devastated.  But we are not giving up.  Her team is not giving up.  The odds may not look great, but God can still do a mighty work here.  He is here, and He isn't going anywhere.

Tonight I am praying for God's peace and calm assurance to wash over our entire family.  We need it more than ever.  I am praying that His mighty hands will heal my daughter.  She needs it desperately. And so we continue our journey down this narrow road, holding on to hope and asking God for a miracle.

It's Hard Being Still

Be still, and know that I am God...   Psalm 46:10

I have a hard time being still. Anyone who has been around me for more than ten minutes can attest to that. Over the last couple of months, the need to keep moving has seemingly kicked into overdrive. Maybe it's anxiety. Maybe it's nervous energy. Maybe it's the fact that as I type this Paige and I are in the ER for the seventh time in about nine weeks. Yes--another nighttime fever spike, another nighttime trip to the hospital.

I know God is at work here. I believe in His mighty healing power and trust He is simply adding yet another chapter to Paige's already amazing testimony. I see this girl getting stronger every day, fighting for just a little normalcy in her life. At the same time we continue to find ourselves in a crazy spin cycle dealing with the aftermath of the beating her body has taken over the last couple of years. Seriously, it's taken on the form of wash, rinse, repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Paige gets the slightest chill, and I rush over with the thermometer. Her temp hangs in a certain spot, so I check more often and start getting our travel bags out. She hits the 'magic number,' and I'm on the phone with the on-call docs. Within minutes we head to Houston. Once we do make it back home, I stay on high alert--for much longer than I should, to the point of driving my girl--and the rest of our family--crazy. If Paige is feeling okay, I'm up doing laundry, cleaning--anything I can do to keep from sitting down for more than a few minutes.  

Why can't I just be still? It's not like I think all that buzzing around is doing her any good. I do know that my mind gets a bit crowded with the negative stuff lately--like how tired I am of seeing my girl go through this again and again. How much she has missed out on. How stinking stressed out and exhausted we all are knowing there is no such thing as a routine of any kind anymore.

I know God is our Rescuer. Our Healer. Our Strength.  I know He will deliver Paige--and the rest of our family--out of this whole situation in much better shape than we were heading in. He is here and has been all along. He isn't going anywhere, so tonight--in this ER room--I'm going to try and be still. I'm going to ask for His peace and calm assurance to wash over me like it has so many times before. I'm going to ask for His mighty hands to continue to heal my daughter. I'm going to be still and know that He is God.

A Little Reflecting

Today marks eight months since Paige's leukemia relapsed.  A little over eight months ago we were in the beginning stages of planning her Make-a-Wish trip.  We had started a new school year--Paige, Jeremy, and Mom--full of excitement and hope.  When the rug was pulled out from under us on Labor Day, every single feeling from her original diagnosis in January 2014 came rushing back.  Disbelief.  Helplessness.  Brokenness.  Paralyzing fear.  Every. Single. One.

We have come so far in these last eight months.  A battle to hit remission once more.  Bone marrow transplant.  One bump in the road after another...and another...and another.  As frustrating as this whole process is, I will not stop giving thanks and praise to God for the work He is doing in our lives.  He gives us strength when it feels we have none left, peace to calm us when we're at the end of our ropes, and renewed hope in His plan for our family.  Every. Single. Day.

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This post is coming to you from the 14th floor at Hotel TCH.  Yes, we are back--our third admission in three weeks.  Paige was admitted with a fever last night, so we are playing the all-too-familiar waiting game.  Waiting on lab work.  Waiting to see what her temperature will do.  Waiting.

Tomorrow is Mother's Day.  In the good old days, we would go to church, enjoy a nice lunch, and visit Grandma later that afternoon.  Our plan this year was to hang out at home, as Paige is not yet able to be around large crowds.  Grandma would have received her gift when she came to the house today.  I guess I should know by now we don't really "do" plans these days.  Life has turned into a "fly by the seat of your pants" kind of thing--and it's really hard for my Type A self to handle at times.

Back to Mother's Day--I'm sort of all over the place today, but that's life as a Cancer Mom turned Bone Marrow Transplant Mom turned Mom Just Trying To Keep It Together.

I thank God for the honor of being a mom.  I'm a bit biased, but I happen to think my kiddos are pretty amazing.  In each of them I see courage, perseverance, and strength.  In each of them I see a light that shines bright with hope for the future.   They are my heroes.   They make me want to do better, to be better.

I thank God for blessing me with an incredible mom.  Not only is she still standing after the storms she has faced, she does everything in her power to keep me standing these days.  She is a fantastic mom and an out-of-this-world Gramoo.  She is my hero.  I can only hope to achieve that kind of awesomeness one day.

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God is at work here.  I trust Him.  I trust His plan.  I trust He will bring our family out of this closer and stronger than we ever dreamed we could be.  Healing--physical and emotional--is coming.  I just know it.

Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.   Romans 12:12