Faith and Fear

I've been waiting a very long time to write this blog. And, though, exciting, I've been putting it off on purpose. 

In 2 1/2 weeks, Jace will take his last spinal infusion and his last infusion since 2013. 5 days later he will take his last oral chemo pills at home. The day after that he will graduate from kindergarten and the next day he's asked to be baptized. 

Needless to say, I will be more of a mess that week than I typically am on a daily basis.  {you've been warned}

It is the weirdest thing to actually be at this point and I guess today is as good as any to post this blog. 

Those of you who've been in my audience for a while know that this day {Mother's Day} has always been hard for me. I was not super close to my mom and being adopted I already felt as though I was missing a huge part of my story by not knowing my birth mother. 

Instead of being sad, I do my best to celebrate the mother I am to my own three kids. They know it's a hard day for me and they know that I don't expect any special or expensive gift or a fancy restaurant. My favorite thing is to have a day of unplanned rest and relaxation doing what I want which mostly includes sleeping in, going for a run and writing or watching movies. 

Today, I woke up to a sweet video of Super Jace in 2011  in which I was so hopeful that he would finally say "mama" and yet he continued to say "dada." It's one of my favorite videos because of his sweet voice and how carefree those days seemed to be.  

As I watched that video, I was reminded of how we never really know just how we can be jolted by life's curves and twists. I also realized it was time to share the next chapter in our cancer journey with you all. 

You see, I've been very quiet about his last chemo date. It isn't something I wanted to yell out to the world. I've been keeping the date safe within our family and pondering on what that meant exactly. I'm planning a few surprises for that day, but we wanted to keep it intimate for our family so that we can really be in the moment instead of hosting visiting friends. 

When people find out how close he is to being "finished," they are always so excited. And so I just smile. 

It is exciting. I am so excited for him to not be dictated by a medicine schedule. I am thrilled that he will get to start doing "normal" kid things that he has not previously experienced. I am relieved for what it all means for our family and the things we are able to do again. 

At the same time, only people who've walked before me know this part: It is about to be the scariest time in our lives, too. 

To recap for you: 

• Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (Jace's diagnosis) has one the longest treatment plans of all the childhood cancers. I remember the dr specifically saying to us the day he had his port put in: "This treatment will be at least 3 years long since he is boy." Girls are treated in 2 years. 
• He was in remission soon after his diagnosis and after he started the intensive chemotherapy, however, that doesn't mean he stopped his treatment plan. It must be seen through to the end. 
• He has gone through 5 phases of treatment over the course of the last 3 1/2 years: Induction, Consolidation, Interim Maintenance, Delayed Intensification, and Maintenance
• Though, he will be finished with treatment, he will still go to the dr monthly for blood tests and check ups. 
• Those visits will taper off over the course of a few years, but he will always be monitored over the course of his entire life. 
• The chance of relapse is higher the first year off of treatment. 

The next season in our journey is much like being in the ocean without a life preserver. The chemo, though, harsh and difficult on him and his body was a safety net for our minds and fears. 

Now more than ever will our faith have to diminish our fears. 

We've ran this like a marathon. It's been long and grueling and some days we just didn't think we would make it. 

When he started he was still potty training. Now, he is about to be a first grader. We often joke that even though he is the youngest in our family he is sort of like the oldest. He's experienced so much life and overcome so much in his short 6 years that he really is leading our family. 

We want to thank each and every one of you for following along on this journey, for putting up with my many blogs and posts and pictures.  

There is a story in the Bible that my friend, Mandy Hall, referenced last night as we were preparing to serve at our church {Luke 5: 17-20} and I found it fitting for our relationship with all of you. 

Some men were trying to bring their paralyzed friend down before Jesus, but because they could find now way to get him in through the crowd, they went up on the roof and let him down with his bed through the tiles. 

You see sometimes when our faith isn't leading us, the faith of our friends and family is what is getting us through and seeing us to the next day. Many of you have done that for us. Your prayers and your faith and your words of victory have gotten us from that devastating day in 2013 to now. 

You cannot know how thankful we are to have all of you behind us, beside us and leading us. 

Snack Drive! April 18-22

Most of you know that Jace goes to the clinic at least once a month for his chemo treatments. But in the very beginning of his fighting of leukemia he was at the clinic many days of the week for at least 8 hours. 

The time there is taxing even with such a great staff. 

Oftentimes, the highlight of the day for these kids is the one prize they get to pick and one snack. 

We'd love to have any donations so we can bombard our clinic goers with tons of drinks and snacks! You can drop off at Celina Intermediate School or deliver directly to Children's CCBD in Plano. 

Ideas: 

Gatorade or Sports drinks

Juice

Soft Drinks

Chips in individual size

Granola Bars

Crackers

Cookies

*Individually wrapped snacks are most appropriate for this setting! 

Thank you to all of you who are helping us love on these kids and families! 

xoxo

Behind the Smiles

Ugh. This week has already been tough. 

If you scan through any of my social media feeds {or the past blog posts here}, you'll most likely find the positives, the smiles, and  the gratitude. You'll also find a dash of authenticity and reality thrown in there, too. Part of what I wanted to do in the very beginning of my journey with Jace was be real. I wanted to be able to give you the day-to-day Tisha - not the one people call heroic, or brave, or an example. I may be all of that, but at the end of the day I'm really just me, daughter of the most high, and thankfully so because I could do it no other way. 

Some weeks are easier than others, but NONE of the weeks are easy. 

As you've probably gathered from the last year, holidays are bittersweet. Mother's Day and Father's Day, in particular. I do a lot of avoiding of social media and and television. There are some spaces that are still healing and as thankful as I am to be a mom to these amazing kids and have an amazing husband who is one of the best dads, we both agree that these days are often still filled with pain and reminders of what we didn't have or have lost. 

I miss my dad. I miss the random and unplanned talks we would have late at night. I miss him teasing me or hugging me. I miss him looking at me and being able to tell me all kinds of memories from my childhood. I miss him talking to me on the phone and remembering what he had for dinner or what he did the day before. Someday I may miss that he even remembers me. 

On the flip side, the day is also painful for my girls who always spend it with their dad. This year their visit was filled with mostly anxiety which made me a lot more anxious about the day. It was a hard day for us all because everything seemed off-balance. 

THEN.....

because chemo is a few days away, Jace has a hard time sleeping. He anticipates the port needle going in and the "sleepy room" (aka spinal) and the pentam booth. Last month was a hard one with him because he was more angry about it all. Every night since has been harder when it's time to take his chemo pills. He doesn't understand why taking them is important, he doesn't understand why he can't eat or drink before or after them. He cries because he asks when he gets his port out and even though we share with him that it will happen, he cries because he just can't fathom that far into the future. 

He's more weepy and clingy to one or all of us. Little things set his emotions into a tailspin and it's exhausting for us all, including him. 

This cycle is the cycle we are on every month. Just when he is feeling a little better, those nasty steroids kick in and make him feel crazy again. 

Which also makes US feel crazy because knowing when it's the steroids and knowing when it's just him being a boy is HARD. 

Behind the smiles you see from us are both, is a strength that only comes from God. Those smiles don't show you how tired we are of this journey and how our emotions are still cRaZy most days because of so much going on {work, work, bills, and "stuff"}. 

Those smiles were tears just a few hours before or later. 

It's summer and I STILL don't feel like I can keep up. That is a feeling I've never had before because I've not had to work as much and it's kind of making me insane. I thrive on prioritizing time alone, time to read, time to breathe, time away but when I don't get it for whatever reason, I'm always thrown off. 

I try to remember that this is a journey, not a destination. But some days behind that smile, I'm still looking for a finish line, a break, a breather. And, honestly, there isn't one. Life goes on. My girls are growing up, my dad is growing old, end of chemo is getting closer, but none of that is an end. 

It's a beginning, a new season, if you will and that's probably why we continue to smile and find the little joys in the hard days. 

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven."

{Ecclesiastes 3:1}