Each Moment Counts

It's been exactly one year, 365 days, 12 months, 52 weeks, 8760 hours, or 525,600 minutes, 31,536,000 seconds from the day we found Jacob's tumor.  We didn't know for certain that it was cancer until after the tumor was removed and a biopsy was performed.  Those several days were like their own lifetime.  So many thoughts and emotions in such a short span of time.  

You can read those early accounts HERE or about his surgery HERE  or Jacob's interview about his surgery HERE  or my "the day that changed everything post" HERE.

And here we are living a pretty "normal" kind of life.  Trying to step out of the cancer sphere and press forward.  I will admit that I've had some bouts of anxiety while scheduling well child check ups for kindergarten and vaccinations.  But I am also grateful that my doctor was able to recognize a problem and coordinate the help we would need.

Life is a fragile thing.  I think most of us get in the habit of thinking we are invincible.  We expect that we will have a chance to grow old, become grandparents, and see our children live out the adventures of their life.  I guess it's quite a hopeful and optimistic way to live.  I believe in hope and optimism.  Why is it that sometimes it takes a crisis to make us savor the joys that are happening in our lives today?  I realize that there are no guarantees.  That today really does make a difference.  

I wish to express gratitude from deep within my heart where all the maternal tenderness dwells.  Thank you for letting me share each of those days -each moment- with my son.  Uncertainty perpetuates perspective and cherishing the moments we have now.  I know Jacob more deeply than I did before.  I know his soul - his strength, his heartache, his goodness, his weakness.  And I love all of him more than I ever thought possible.

Today he is a thriving, active, super handsome, nine-year old boy.  Sometimes I look at the pics of him during his treatment.  I was certainly blessed with strength beyond my own.  It was so uneasy walking the path of uncertainty.  How bad is this going to get?  How much longer are we going to have to do this?  How could we live without him?

I look at pics of baby Jayson.  He was only 6 months old when all the drama started.  A nursing baby who ate every 4 hours.  I had rarely been away from him.  James lost one of his best friends for a while.  He was angry too.  Jessica noticed the hours that we were away and preoccupied.  Jon & I stood on a united front, but we were stationed in different locations (hospital/clinic, work, home).  We each had to work through our emotions at our own pace in our own way.  Some days we broke down at the same time.  Other days we'd take turns feeling completely broken, scared, overwhelmed, or just plain sad.

Our love grew this past year.  We had so much time to think about our love for our family.  We thought about God's love.  We thought about all the extended family and friends who were cheering us on.  But didn't we have the same amount of time as always - 24 hours a day, 7 days a week?  It wasn't in us to think about other stuff.  Our family, our memories, our healing, our hope, & our endurance was what we were compelled to ponder.  Why is it so easy for those important things to slip from our perspective?

What great joy we've had emerging from this great trial.  To see the curls on Jacob's head.  To see all of us around the dinner table.  To gather together for an adventure.  To remember the moments we created on the Wish Trip and visiting our family in Utah.  Each moment counts.

And I do have a confession.  I didn't know how long it would be before Jacob would have hair again.  It was so hard to part with it.  When we decided to buzz it, I collected it.  I wanted to find a fancy bottle with a cork like "Message in a Bottle" to put it in and save until his new hair grew back.  I never found the bottle, so I have a rubbermaid canister of hair up on top of my fridge.  I still haven't found motivation to let it go.