Full Steam Ahead

My hands are shaking a bit with anticipation as I begin this new post.

I've anticipated what my next post would be for several months ... it will be much different.

I anticipated reporting on my first ever half-marathon ... and the fact that my friend and I made it into the newspaper - awesome :).

Instead, I'm brought to my long-upon-the-back-burner blog to record some rather heart-wrenching news - oddly enough, it's not too far removed from the newspaper link above.  How little I knew that the would-be returning post about my first ever half-marathon race and the actual post about a race newly imposed upon my little family would essentially be the same: a race against cancer. 

At approximately twelve in the morning on Saturday, February 9th, an MD Fellow at Primary Children's Medical Center entered the dimly-lit room where my two-year old son and I were fitfully sleeping to tell me that the results of the blood-smear from a draw taken just after we arrived the previous evening showed leukemia cells.  Was I still sleeping?  Wasn't he supposed to wait til midday, when my husband was there ... have us walk into his office (that would look more like a study) ... invite us to sit down in big leather chairs (at which time we would hold hands as we knowingly looked at each other) ... then, while melodramatic music played in the background, he would deliver the news that our youngest ... our baby of just two years ... had leukemia?

Instead, I sat bewildered, with my child sleeping at my side, looking at the doctor and the clock intermittently.  The life-changing news was delivered in about ten minutes after which he left and the young nurse came in.  I looked at her and lost it.  I wept.  I wept out of confusion, bewilderment and loneliness.  A thousand thoughts were flying through my mind.  "It's midnight ... should I call my husband? ... should I wait til morning? ... shouldn't he get a full night's rest before hearing this devastating news?" I felt somewhat protective ... as though I should somehow try to take the brunt of the news myself to shield my family from the fear.  All these thoughts and more raced in and out of my mind in a matter of seconds.  I picked up the phone.

Much to my relief, my husband wasn't sleeping.  With voice shaking, I delivered the news.  Wishing desperately for him to be at my side, I heard him weeping as he tried to ask questions.  I explained that they still didn't know what type of leukemia it was, but the devilish cells were evident. We were to find out later that morning that baby G has Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL).  The MD said of all the leukemias to have, it has the best prognosis for young victims.  That, however, doesn't lessen the hill-laden battle ahead.

Much has transpired (from ironic & somewhat humorous to touching & infinitely inspiring) in the 7 days since that fateful diagnosis.  And much (if not all) of it will be addressed in other posts (I feel a desperate need to document it all, but don't want it to encumber one dreadfully long post :)).  We have been literally encompassed by love and support.  Dear friends and neighbors have rallied in ways we've never before witnessed...at least not on our behalf as we've never been placed on such a precarious journey.  Family members have driven for miles to come to our aid and lend support.  Teachers from preschool to elementary have cried and mourned with us as they've watched over our little ones placed in their care.  The shock is beginning to subside as we find our "new normal."  We are humbled ... We are hopeful ... We feel a rare happy peacefulness that we can only attribute to being wrapped in the arms of a loving Father in Heaven and His Beloved Son.  We believe in Their love and Their ability to carry us.  We know They have wiped away tears and absorbed many of the fears and pain.  We look to Them for guidance to do what is best for we know that G is as special to Them as he is to us, perhaps more.

As we left the hospital on Wednesday to bring G home at last, my husband pointed out a clever McDonald's billboard ad.  Neither of us are coffee-drinkers, but we admired the skill of marketers to draw in those that are by showing a McD's styrofoam cup with wisps of steams curling through words that read: Full Steam Ahead.  I'm once again struck with the oddity of how a billboard can enlighten my life.  Two years ago, the words Utah Valley Marathon on a billboard frankly catapulted me into a romance with running.  Two days ago, the words Full Steam Ahead reminded me that while the road may be uphill and the days may be long and I may wish for simpler times, the best way to face it is Full Steam Ahead.  Always moving forward.  Actively engaged.  Not merely to meander along or just try to survive but to forge the path with full steam and confidence in Him whom we trust. 

Thanks for taking this journey with us.
Casey