Adrenaline let down...

We have been functioning on high alert and high stress response for 10 days now. I can't believe it's only been 10 days since we found out our Coop has cancer.

Yesterday was our first full day home and it was SO DANG NICE. I did a few loads of laundry, some dishes, went through some piles, did a little real estate work, cleared out my email and it was actually a relief to do some "normal" things.

In the middle of feeling so dang grateful and somewhat normal being home, there has been this shadow in the corner of my heart that keeps creeping up on me. That shadow is the grief that I don't want to look at. I am trying to keep it in the corner because I want to stand in the light, I want to see the good, I want to have hope. Today I only cried once. That's a record for me in the past 10 days. I needed a little breather and I know that is okay too.

I've done enough counseling to know that shadow will need to be looked at, felt and acknowledged. That's a road inevitable to walk down. I just don't want to.

However, I noticed that shadow yesterday when Cooper fell asleep and took a morning nap (that hasn't happened since he was a toddler), that shadow tapped on my shoulder again when I had to give Sadie a mask to wear while they were playing legos together because she has a cold and has been coughing. It was there again when I had to call Childrens Hospital (which is now on speed dial) to confirm I was taking the correct steps when Cooper told me he had a headache and his throat hurt. That dang shadow sat right on my lap when Cooper had tears trickling down his face as he was trying to get the strength to swallow that last pill, asking me why is there so many?!

When he got it down, I smiled, cheered and said "way to go buddy, I am SO proud of you!" And at that same time, my heart was breaking yet again. This is our new reality.

The chemo is starting to physically and mentally affect him, I can tell. I wish with every ounce of my being that I could take the chemo for him, that I could do the spinal taps for him, that I could do the bone marrow aspirations for him. I would step in and take it all in a heartbeat to protect him from this ugly, painful disease if I was able. And yet I can't.

So I do what I can...

I'll rub his achey legs when they are sore

I'll snuggle with him when he's tired

I'll take a breath and give him a big dose of grace when he gets angry and frustrated

I'll let him know we are right beside him every step of the way

We are walking this journey together, all 6 of us...

As I am processing from all the things, I have been thinking about how Jesus literally was able and DID do what I so wish I could do for my boy. He has already taken our place on the cross, he took on the full punishment of our sin so that we don't have to. He loves and wants us THAT bad. I understand now on a little deeper level "why" Jesus would choose or even "want" to do that. I wish I could...

In heaven there will be no cancer and there will be no pain. We have His hope to hang onto.

And I also know God can handle my anger, sadness and grief, He embraces the shadow I want to push aside. Both sides of it can be and are very much true. Running parallel in my world almost constantly, even though I very much prefer one over the other.

Get all the sleep you need my sweet boy...