Sunday, September 28

I’d bang my head against the floor for losing my whole week’s worth of writing—but I know that won’t bring it back. After an hour of trying to recover it, I’ve decided to let it go. I’m choosing to believe it was never meant to go out in the first place- what’s the outside of believing it any other way?! 

So here’s a shorter recap instead:

This week was nothing short of a miracle. We’ve had so much quality time tucked into her hospital room, doing all the little things she loves. She has been so generous with her love and affection toward us.  We have a door full of crafts and completed her most beloved seashell  frame too! Sometimes I wonder—how can a child remain this sweet while enduring so much? It’s heartbreakingly precious. She truly feels like an angel sent to earth.

On Thursday, we started her on the PCA morphine drip. Friday was spent chasing pain, until finally, by nightfall, we got ahead of it. Friday also marked day five of her continuous chemo that began Monday morning. The nausea hit Thursday night with a vengeance, and since then, sleep has been scarce.

This morning, the doctors told us her white blood cell counts are at zero—exactly where we want them before transplant tomorrow. She has a full case of mucositis, so the plan is to keep her as comfortable as possible. Still, even in her pain, she remains so very sweet. We’ve also noticed chemo has already affected her hearing— it feels like we have to yell for her to catch anything. Which also makes the world even scarier when you can’t hear! 

Today is the big day before the big day: she’s getting a blood transfusion, Lasix, platelets, and a dressing change. Tomorrow is transplant day! Her stem cells arrived on Friday, and tomorrow the blood bank team will be here as well.

Early this week we also learned that radiation will, in fact, be in a different city. That news was disappointing. As of right now, insurance is not covering the three weeks of radiation. We’re not overly worried yet, but it does mean we need to secure both lodging and travel. It feels like there’s a curveball around every corner—but I also know this to be true: God has carried us over every single mountain, 100% of the time. “God will make a way where there seems to be no way.”
Radiation will take place after discharge from transplant number two. 
Our hope is that we’ll be able to pack up and go together as a family for those three weeks. Please pray with us—for guidance as we make decisions, and for the financial provision to cover these big expenses. 

Looking back on the week, despite everything, our hearts are very grateful. 

To those who have sent thoughtful gifts and personal checks—thank you. Your kindness reminds us that we are not alone, that you are truly walking this journey with us.

Please continue to pray with us:
 • For the transplant to go smoothly and exactly as planned.
 • For Avry to experience peace and calm during the process.
 • For wisdom, guidance, and steady hands for the transplant team.
 • That the stem cells will be viable and do the miraculous work of healing.
 • For Jake and me—that we will have rest, strength, stamina, and grace.
 • And please remember Trace, who won’t see us this week.

Thank you, from the depths of our hearts, for every prayer lifted on our behalf. ❤️‍🩹