Sunday afternoon we made it home, for lack of a better word. Perhaps I should just we made it back to our house. It isn’t quite the same anymore, with medical supplies piling up, nurses stopping by, and Kendrick and I being the ones wearing a stethoscope and giving her a shot. We get the IV fluids running every night and her tube feeds changed out every four hours while she sleeps. We have become the hospital staff, not just the parents and it grieves me on so many levels.
I have always wanted our home to feel a certain way. Peaceful, calming, safe. But I can’t ignore that there’s an IV pole in the middle of the living room. It’s here and it’s interrupted the warmth that was once in the room, literally and metaphorically. Obviously, it’s a cold metal pole too large to hide with a throw pillow but I don’t have room in my house for it either. There’s no place in my house I could put it where it just wouldn’t completely disrupt everything. Where I wouldn’t have to rearrange to make it work. But it’s here and I can’t change it. Just like the cancer.
While cleaning some stuff out of our room today I found an old picture of me when I was a little girl about Izzy’s age. I was swinging on an old wooden swing in the backyard of my parents house, my hair blowing in the wind. It reminded me so much of Izzy. Not just because I looked like her, but because she loves to swing. I began to wonder what it would have been like if Izzy and I could have been friends when I was a little girl. What if the picture panned out and she was swinging next to me. You would see two little girls so very much alike. Same big eyes, button noses and tiny frames giggling as they pumped themselves higher and higher in the air. What you wouldn’t be able to see is the stuff that made them so different. On the inside you would see life in me. But in her you would see cancer cells growing and multiplying rapidly throughout her tiny body. You would would see darkness trying to overpower light, gloom trying to smother rays of sunshine. You would see death trying to have it’s way. Two little girls looking so much alike but so very, very different.
And one of those girls will grow up never knowing what it’s like to have a tube in her nose. Never having scars all over her belly from surgery after surgery, line after line. Never having to stay locked inside once her white blood cells were too low. Never having childhood cancer. Two words that should never be in the same sentence. But the other little girl will grow up and she will know a different pain. She will know the pain that comes from watching her own little girl suffer. The pain that comes from listening to her moan in the night. She will know the pain that comes from watching and listening and simply waiting.
15 Replies to “Two Little Girls”
I am in no way going to pretend I know how you feel or what you are going through. I just wanted to say you are in our prayers.
Thanks for sharing…no words are adequate when life is so horrible. Know we will continue to pray the power and presence of Jesus in your home! You are loved!
Praying for you every day…for your whole family and asking that the peace of Christ would saturate little Izzy’s body, your home, and your hearts.
Deb is right. Mere words fail. Please know that we are loving you all and praying HARD!!!!! ♡♥♡
Know that you are surrounded by love. Know that you are sheltered with prayer. Know that, by sharing your story, we are each sharing with you a tiny piece of your burden. Know that God’s grace will continue to give you strength for this moment. Live, moment by moment, in the hands of Jesus.
Thank you for being so honest! I cried after I read this, but it just makes me pray even harder because neither of these 2 girls should have to go through this! I pray God’s incredible peace and love and healing and His powerful Presence floods your home and everyone there! I pray He shows you the path of life and in His Presence is fullness of joy even in the midst of this! Psalm 16:11. I pray God brings fullness of healing to Izzy.
You have no idea who I am,but I heard about your story through a friend. I feel I now need to open your blog everyday and read and have shared with my husband as well. Our son had a brain tumor in high school and had it removed summer of his junior year.You may know him,he recognized your name.I thank God it wasn’t Cancer. I pray he knows how blessed he is that it wasn’t either. Life is so precious and fragile and when our children no matter how old hurt and suffer,it is a pain that is undescribable to a parent and maybe worse on that one who gave birth to that life. In your writings I can tell you are truly an amazing young lady and a strong Christian,but even so Satan is right there to hurt us always. I pray God performs a miracle in your little girls life and healing to your son and your family as you journey through this horror. I didn’t mean to bother you or upset you more,just wanted you to know that you have more prayer warriors on your side.
May God be with you and grant you a peace that surpasses all.
Sending love and prayers every day.
More prayers going up for Izzy and your family from Jeffersonville, Indiana. Although very difficult, I’m sure, your words are beautiful to me. My son is 7 and didn’t have cancer but was born with several congenital heart defects, known as Shone’s Complex and I can identify with your feeling/words. He’s had four open heart surgeries and was opened up a 5th time emergently. He’s doing great but all I have to do is read this and I’m right back to feeding tubes, medicines every 2 hours around the clock, heart meds that were extremely time sensitive…alarms set & going off to remind us….and the pain we felt knowing he was in pain. Praying for healing in Izzy and supernatural peace and comfort for the journey! The Nicholson’s
My heart is breaking Molly- I can not even begin to imagine the depth of your pain. Being a mom and not being able to fix what is wrong is the worst kind of a feeling. Praying constantly.
Sending many prayers for peace, love and healing to all of you during these difficult days.
We are joining the host of others who are standing in the gap for you and your family during this deep valley in your lives. We are Erik Anderson’s parents and have seen you many times when we’ve visited the Vineyard. We want you to know that we love you and are committed to praying daily for Izzy. Jesus is our Jehovah Rapha!
We continue to pray that these two little girls will have such an amazing story to share in 15 months. One of hope, faithfulness, unconditional love, and healing.
You are in my thoughts and prayers….
I heard about this story today at church from Dr. Bob, Kendrick’s uncle, I’m pretty sure! It absolutely broke my heart. I’m praying and let me know if I can send Izzy something!