The Gift of C: best laid plans
Charlotte wasn’t planned. We hoped and prayed for a baby after we were married. At just shy of a year married, we had an early miscarriage at about 6 weeks along. We knew those things could happen early on but it was very hard. We knew God must of had another plan for us, but back then my faith wasn’t at all like it is now. So, we tried again and in that next year, beautiful Taylor was born. Two years after Taylor, came sweet Parker. Life was perfect. It felt complete, our little family of 4 (or 5 if we count our furry baby Lucy).
A couple years later, Brian and I discussed whether or not we wanted more children. We loved our little family and in many ways it did feel complete, but something inside wasn’t ready to make that official. I wasn’t ready to close that bridge and make a permanent decision. So, we pushed it off and carried on in our lives. The topic came up from time to time and I remember very clearly what Brian would say. “We have 2 healthy and amazing children.” He was right. We had healthy, energetic, happy children. We were happy. It was hard to think about adding an unknown variable into what felt like a perfect little picture. We talked about this...I was older in my mid 30s. What if the baby was born unhealthy? What if I had complications during pregnancy? What if we had a child with health problems? Why should we shake up our comfortable life?
Then, God enters. It’s the only explaination. God knew we needed Charlotte. God knew the world needed Charlotte and he chose to bless US, of all people, to be her parents. Her stewards. The ones to care and nurture and protect and raise her. He knew no one, I mean no one, could do it better. When she became sick, I played our conversations about having another baby back in my mind. She was unplanned and a surprise. She was born perfect. Never sick until she turned 2. An easy and laid back baby who smiled and cuddled and meshed—a perfect fit into our then family of 4. She gave Taylor a sister, and made Parker a big brother. She was a gift we all never knew we wanted or needed. And yet, there was doubt and fear in a Brian and I. We were uncertain if we should have any more children before we learned we were pregnant with Charlotte. And I do remember conversations about how we had a happy healthy girl and a happy healthy boy...what more could we want. And then, after we found out I was pregnant, the conversations about genetic testing the Drs recommended since I was now considered “advanced gestational age.” I didn’t agree to anything intrusive but routine blood tests that can check chcromosomes and the ultrasounds. Of course, she was perfect. And born just over 9 lbs of adorable chunky baby love. She fit into my arms like a puzzle piece I didn’t know was missing. She fit into all of our lives in such a way that love in our family grew exponentially. God knew.
Whatever our plans, God’s are better. And this fact continues to be true when Charlotte was diagnosed with cancer at just shy of 2.5 years old. The worry, the fear, the doubts, the anger, the excruciating pain—he knew. He knew that our lives would be better because of Charlotte. And not just the happy, healthy Charlotte. But the Charlotte who has an aggressive metastatic cancer growing and spreading. The Charlotte who would face this head on and do everything within her little power to beat it down. He knew our lives would be all the better. How can we say our life is better after cancer? How can we say that cancer has been a gift? Can I sit here and write these words partly because Charlotte is doing so well? Would I say the same had she not responded to the treatment? Would I say the same if we had to face this cancer again or face other difficult/life threatening complications from all the treatment? She is not cured or out of the woods. She is not immune to devestating effects from what she has been through and what she is still going through. Even the monitoring, the scans, are incredibly toxic to her little body. The amount of radiation she is exposed to every 3 months is enough to do incredible damage. Scan toxicity is a real danger. And further more we don’t know if she still has cancer hiding undetected, mutating, waiting. Despite current research including the study we are on trying to improve her odds, the relapse rates continue to be a coin toss. Yet, we can still sit here and say yes...life is better after cancer.
A couple years later, Brian and I discussed whether or not we wanted more children. We loved our little family and in many ways it did feel complete, but something inside wasn’t ready to make that official. I wasn’t ready to close that bridge and make a permanent decision. So, we pushed it off and carried on in our lives. The topic came up from time to time and I remember very clearly what Brian would say. “We have 2 healthy and amazing children.” He was right. We had healthy, energetic, happy children. We were happy. It was hard to think about adding an unknown variable into what felt like a perfect little picture. We talked about this...I was older in my mid 30s. What if the baby was born unhealthy? What if I had complications during pregnancy? What if we had a child with health problems? Why should we shake up our comfortable life?
Then, God enters. It’s the only explaination. God knew we needed Charlotte. God knew the world needed Charlotte and he chose to bless US, of all people, to be her parents. Her stewards. The ones to care and nurture and protect and raise her. He knew no one, I mean no one, could do it better. When she became sick, I played our conversations about having another baby back in my mind. She was unplanned and a surprise. She was born perfect. Never sick until she turned 2. An easy and laid back baby who smiled and cuddled and meshed—a perfect fit into our then family of 4. She gave Taylor a sister, and made Parker a big brother. She was a gift we all never knew we wanted or needed. And yet, there was doubt and fear in a Brian and I. We were uncertain if we should have any more children before we learned we were pregnant with Charlotte. And I do remember conversations about how we had a happy healthy girl and a happy healthy boy...what more could we want. And then, after we found out I was pregnant, the conversations about genetic testing the Drs recommended since I was now considered “advanced gestational age.” I didn’t agree to anything intrusive but routine blood tests that can check chcromosomes and the ultrasounds. Of course, she was perfect. And born just over 9 lbs of adorable chunky baby love. She fit into my arms like a puzzle piece I didn’t know was missing. She fit into all of our lives in such a way that love in our family grew exponentially. God knew.
Whatever our plans, God’s are better. And this fact continues to be true when Charlotte was diagnosed with cancer at just shy of 2.5 years old. The worry, the fear, the doubts, the anger, the excruciating pain—he knew. He knew that our lives would be better because of Charlotte. And not just the happy, healthy Charlotte. But the Charlotte who has an aggressive metastatic cancer growing and spreading. The Charlotte who would face this head on and do everything within her little power to beat it down. He knew our lives would be all the better. How can we say our life is better after cancer? How can we say that cancer has been a gift? Can I sit here and write these words partly because Charlotte is doing so well? Would I say the same had she not responded to the treatment? Would I say the same if we had to face this cancer again or face other difficult/life threatening complications from all the treatment? She is not cured or out of the woods. She is not immune to devestating effects from what she has been through and what she is still going through. Even the monitoring, the scans, are incredibly toxic to her little body. The amount of radiation she is exposed to every 3 months is enough to do incredible damage. Scan toxicity is a real danger. And further more we don’t know if she still has cancer hiding undetected, mutating, waiting. Despite current research including the study we are on trying to improve her odds, the relapse rates continue to be a coin toss. Yet, we can still sit here and say yes...life is better after cancer.
Cancer has taken so many things from Charlotte. It took away so many days with her family and friends. It took her energy and often her appetite at times. It took her spirit and her joy many days. It took her hair for over a year. It took atleast a year of normal growth and development. It took many opportunities away for her to participate in normal life and so many childhood activities. It almost took her life. Almost.
And from what we understand, it is not done taking. We must watch her hearing, her heart, her lungs, her kidneys, her liver, her hormones, her thyroid, her growth and development, her neurological development, her behavior and learning, her fertility, her fine and gross motor skills, her eye sight, her permanent teeth and gum health, her bones and spine....and also for many more years....we closely watch her body for any signs of cancer. And by cancer, not just Neuroblastoma but for secondary cancers. Cancer has taken and taken and we don’t know how much more it will take from her.
But Cancer has also given. It has given her, and us, a greater appreciation for life. It has given her, and us, a deeper ability to appreciate the little moments that fill our days. It has given her, and us, grit. It has given her, and us, more tolerance for everything. It has given her, and us, a more loving and patient relationship with each other. It has given her, and us, a purer way to live life and experience joy. It has given her, and us, a deeper and closer relationship with God. It has given her, and hopefully her siblings, better parents then who they would have had if we had a different reality. Maybe, somehow, we are all just better versions of ourselves then what would have been.
I guess Gods plans, even if they include walking a hard seemingly impossible road we never wanted to walk on in the first place, are gifts. They include a life better then we could imagine. We are not unique or special in this gift. I believe he works throughout our lives in sometimes subtle and sometimes unsubtle ways but ultimately if we believe and follow and listen...life will be better.
When Charlotte was first diagnosed I remember hitting my knees privately and in anguish. I was crying and pleading with God. I made deals and gave him ultimatums. I told him we could do all hard things if and only if she would survive and be ok in the end. I told him I could only understand this and things would only be ok if he gave me what I wanted, which was a Charlotte who would survive and grow up. I thought that would be the only blessing in this journey. But I was wrong. It wasn’t the end goal that was the true blessing. It was the journey in itself. And realizing that has made all the difference. I pray we can all find that realization in our own lives. This is the gift of cancer. This is one of many gifts Charlotte has given me.
Pictures from Easter and some fun with some of her little friends
Comments
Post a Comment