All in all, I’m thankful. It was hard—really hard. But I made it through, and this week has already been so much better.

The oncology team did their best to set me up for success with a wide range of medications to manage the symptoms they anticipated. But with each medication comes its own side effects. Looking at my med sheet feels like watching one pill try to outsmart the last—like a chess match I never agreed to play.

The team described chemo symptoms like building blocks: each treatment adds another layer. The side effects I experienced last week will likely return at the same time points during future rounds, only with increasing intensity. That’s both frustrating and a little scary.

Last week, days one through three were the hardest. I expect that to be the pattern moving forward. Honestly, I was mostly out of it during those days—exhausted, nauseous, battling intense headaches and intestinal cramps. I don’t remember much of my conversations with Alex or the boys. I was able to see an Accupuncturist that is associated with the cancer center. It was my first visit, but it really helped me feel more comfortable in my own body. This isn’t covered by insurance, but it’s worth it. One of the worst symptoms, though, was the bone pain caused by the injection I get the day after chemo—meant to stimulate white blood cell production. It’s brutal. Of all things, Claritin is supposed to help, and while I haven’t noticed much difference yet, I’m hopeful it just needs time to build up in my system.

This second week has been so much better—still not great, more like a lingering hangover that just won’t leave, but worlds better than last week. I even got to enjoy a few moments of joy: swimming with Teddy and my mom in a friend’s pool (amazing for the bone pain!), dinner out with the boys (they were thrilled), and coming up Saturday—a date night with Alex and friends thanks to one of our sweet “big” nephews and his girlfriend. I’m also hoping to make it to church Sunday. These bright spots do wonders for my heart and mental health.

I’ve also started talk therapy with our Christian marriage coach, who graciously offered to meet with me individually during this season. It’s not typically her focus, but she has already been such a blessing—reminding me of God’s promises and anchoring me in truth. It’s an out of pocket cost, but something I know is worth its weight in gold. Your donations go towards costs like this. Thank you for making it possible. 

Now that we’ve experienced one round of chemo, we have a better sense of what’s needed to support our family. Please pray that we’re able to build some consistency before my brain gets foggier —for the boys, for Alex, and for our household. Examples: building a break for Alex from solo parenting after my recovery days, volunteers for meals, getting Teddy to summer school, and more.

This will be a standing prayer request. Their little hearts are processing so much. It’s confusing for them to see me fine one day and sick the next—especially since I don’t “look” sick yet. It comes up a lot in conversation, so we know they are struggling to process. Please pray for understanding, comfort, and peace in their young minds.

Please pray that I can be a light to others, even while walking through my own darkness. That God would use the hard and the ugly for His glory. That I would feel His strength and encouragement to press on.

I cannot begin to express what your prayers, texts, comments, donations, meals, house cleanings, laundry, childcare, grass mowing—all of it—mean to us. Our village is big, and it is the wind in our sails. Through your love, you are teaching my boys what it means to be the hands and feet of Jesus.

We are deeply grateful. Thank you for holding us up.

For His glory,

Elly