June 29 at home

Buckle up buttercup this is a raw one. I had a hard realization last week… I thought it would be a lot less hard, coming home from the hospital. I didn’t realize is that it’s just a different kind of hard. I really just wanted a break. I really thought I’d be able to breathe again. But what I realize is that
Easy isn’t on the menu for me.

Avry has so many fears. Since she was diagnosed with cancer, she has been in the hospital 237 nights.  From almost half of those days and  nights, she was isolated to her small little hospital room.  Her entire life was turned upside down and she had to give  up all  sense of control. She had no idea what was coming or the next horror she’d live thro. She’s completely different little girl than the girl we took into the hospital 16 months ago…

That being said coming home is incredibly scary for her. It’s something new. She doesn’t really remember living at home together with the family full-time before cancer…

It feels like everything is a fight. And this mama has been fighting with her whole heart, soul and mind and honestly just feel like she’s got no more fight left in her. 

It felt pretty defeating coming home from the hospital and realizing we don’t just pop back into a schedule. I thought we would jump back into a routine and offer the kids as much stability  and security  as possible by way of schedule and a set routine. Well that’s certainly  backfired on all of us. That made it much worse.

You see we’re all learning to know each other again because survival rewires your brain. And not only that, we haven’t lived at home full-time in over 16 months as a family of 4.  We all changed and morphed into different people then we were pre-cancer. 

So what I’m realizing is that it takes a lot of grace and it takes a lot of patience. It takes digging deeper than I’ve ever done before.  I’ve never in my life, struggled with motivation or inspiration. I’ve never struggled with depression or hopelessness. I’ve never struggled with purpose.  

Most people don’t understand this. They see the end of chemo and they see bells and whistles.  What they don’t realize is as our body are slowly feeling safe again, there’s this tsunami of processing we’re forced into.  Understanding what  just happened over the past 16 months??  How we got through it?? Who are we now? And how do we go from here?  

My heart has been at war with itself. I’m angry… I’m angry at what cancer did to our family. I’m angry at what cancer took.  I’m angry at close friends who disappeared and checked out of our lives the minute our lives fell apart.  I’m angry at people who whine and complain over absolutely nothing. There’s people I wanna walk up to and smack  them in the face and tell them to shut up. To try cancer… to get their priorities straight.  And —-I’m tired of being angry. 

So I’m seeking peace. I’m choosing to accept that easy isn’t on the menu for us. That this really is our life. I’m choosing to walk away from the  friends that really showed us exactly who they are. The friends who chose to look away because it was too gruesome.  The ones who  made the excuse that they don’t know how to show up so they didn’t. 
I’m choosing to let them go. I’m choosing to embrace the strangers who have become friends. I’m choosing to love people that  have showed up in big ways for us- not because they’re special but because they’ve allowed their hearts  to be touched and because they have Gods love in their hearts. 

 I’m choose to find gratitude in the hard. Every single day. The things that take my breath away because they’re so hard… I’m choosing to thank God for the hard things. And it isn’t easy.  

I’m choosing to celebrate all the small wins!  And choosing to blow all of these small wins  out of proportion and make them a huge, massive wins!  I’m choosing to love
Instead of hate. I am choosing to embrace the things that a  mother should ever have to embrace because it is the path that I’m being called to walk. 

This past week, we had a record  for WINS! They weren’t even the wins  I was looking for or expecting.  In fact, I felt really defeated over the wins we didn’t have.  

On the bracelets Avry makes and sells; on the one side of the charm 
Is etched the saying we have said to each other 1 million times over the past 16 months ‘I CAN DO HARD THINGS.’ 

 Avry has done some really hard things this past week! She got in the bathtub for the first time in 16 months for a full bath post port removal! She also got in the pool in her own tubie! She also started drinking strawberry smoothie yogurt!! (please don’t come at me for how unhealthy it is- you have no idea how hard it’s been to just get her to take food by mouth)  

The other day when we were in Clinic,  after Jake and I were having to restrain her so that the nurse could draw her blood💔😭 she sat there and told Jake how much she hates the doctors and nurses. That they should never do such mean things to little girls. Jake sat and listened.  Then went not to explain that sometimes the doctors and nurses have to do things that hurt us to make us feel better… he went on to explain that one of our friends is having really hurtful things done to her right now to help her feel better. And that there was also a little girl down in the OR who’s getting an incision just like Avry… Avry Jo got tears in her eyes. ‘Daddy, I think we should pray for them,- can you pray for them?’     😭😭😭 sssoooobbbb

That’s more love and empathy and compassion than I’ve seen out of some grown folks… the ability to feel someone else’s pain. To not look away ❤️‍🩹😭 💔  she had just gone through something atrocious. Something no  child should ever have to experience. She was while still in pain- thinking of somebody else and feeling their pain.  💔

It reminded me that even while I am feeling pain- I’m going to borrow Avry’s courage and keep loving and praying for others and recognizing and validating their pain…

To Never let anything come between me and human connection.

Never become so consumed by your own pain that you lose the ability to see someone else’s. Never become so guarded, so exhausted, or so emotionally sterile that another person’s suffering no longer moves your heart.

Even when you’re hurting, choose to notice. Choose to listen. Choose to validate. Choose to love.

Pain should deepen our compassion, not diminish it. The greatest gift we can offer one another is to say, “I see you. Your pain matters. You don’t have to carry it alone.”

May we never lose the tenderness that allows us to sit with someone else’s grief, even while carrying our own. 

Yours  truly with all
The typos , not a bot 🥸

 XO , Romanianeyes

Ps. I know I’m about three weeks behind in writing. I’ve been so focused on just keeping all of our heads above water. Thank you for caring and for loving us so well.🫶 for being our village  and for reminding us that we’re not alone.