Halloween 08
Look at her skin color and swollen belly and sad face. If we had read the symptoms of leukemia prior to diagnosis, hers were text book.
Halloween 09
Look at her rosy cheeks and big smile! That's our miracle!
November 13th.
I remember November 13th of 2008 with perfect clarity.
I remember it more clearly than I remember my wedding day or the births of either of my children.
I remember it for an entirely different reason.
I remember waking up and getting dressed in black pants, a turquoise shirt, and black flats.
I remember dressing my kids and taking them to SCPS just as we'd done every morning since August.
I remember what they were both wearing.
I remeber peeking in on my 2 year old who was "recovering from an ear infection" at lunch time to find her sleeping.
I remeber picking her up and chatting with her teacher about her "continued fussiness and crying."
I remember feeling guilty about the number of school days I had already missed this year.
I remember thinking that I may need to go ahead and get lesson plans ready for the next day.
I remember Cora's melt down on the way to the car about how the way I was carrying her was "hurting her hiney."
I remember having this wave of realization rush over me thinking, "All this child's needs are being met, why is she so fussy?"
I remember canceling my dinner plans with friends and calling Rob.
I remember crying on the phone as I explained to him that I felt like I needed to take her back to the doctor because she was still not right.
I remember making the call to the nurse and nearly breaking down on the phone with her as I told her that I wanted to bring Cora in for the 4th time that month and I wanted tubes in her ears if they were still infected after the 2nd round of antibiotics.
I. thought. she. needed. tubes. in. her. ears!
I remember meeting Rob at the peditrician's office for the last appointment of the day.
I remember our visit with the doctor and his comment on her pale coloring and swollen belly.
I remember him saying, "Her spleen is enlarged. I hope it's mono. I've seen some of that lately."
I remember when he left the room with a sample of her blood.
I remember discussing dinner plans with Rob and Cade.
I remember Cade voting to order sushi.
I remember the nurse coming back in to get "just a little more blood to run one more test."
I remember the doctor's face when he came back into the room.
I remember the tears in his eyes as he told us "you have a very sick little girl."
I remember him telling us "It may be leukemia."
From there I don't remember anything else he said.
I only remember me.
I only remember screaming and feeling like I was dreaming.
I remember that I wasn't crying.
I felt like I should cry, but I wasn't.
I was frantic.
I was screaming and pacing and hugging my crying baby thinking that this could not possibly be happening.
I remember the nurse hugging me and taking Cora from me.
I remember Rob and Dr. Stone talking, but I couldn't hear what they were saying.
I remember trying to make a few frantic phone calls to iron out plans for Cade.
I remember that the people I was calling couldn't really understand me on the phone.
I remember Cade jumping up and down that he got to spend the night with a friend on a school night and then crying as he drove away with his Aunt Lauren from the Peditrician's parking lot.
I remember getting in the car with Rob and Cora.
I remember following our sweet peditrician to the hospital.
That's where it stops.
I remember nothing from there.
I don't remember going into the hospital, being admitted, meeting the oncologist on duty, being taken to a room, nothing.
I think my brain has forgotten to spare me the pain.
It was an AWFUL day.
The worst day of my life.
The pain is something I never want to experience again.
I remember deciding the next morning that I couldn't handle this on my own and begging God to save my baby.
But when I look back at the last year, I remember bringing Cora home after that initial hospital stay.
I remember being so relieved to find out she had ALL the good kind of leukemia.
I remember being even more relieved to find out that she had LOW RISK ALL with a bit of an easier treatment regimen.
I remember crying tears of joy when on day 14 of treatment the doctor called very surprised with news of early remission.
He called her a "rapid early responder!"
I remember being so surrounded by family and friends and food and phone calls that I barely had time to cry until I got into bed at night.
I remember feeling like God truly was showering us with little blessings throughout every step of our nightmare.
It's been such a hard year.
The first few months I nearly drove myself crazy with questions of how and why.
It's so hard to see your baby suffer through painful things even if they are to make her better.
It's lonely and you feel completely out of control of the situation.
I'd go back and change her diagnosis in a heartbeat if I could.
But I can't.
If it weren't for November 13, 2008 I wouldn't have the appreciation for my precious kids and family that I do.
I wouldn't have gotten to meet the fabulous nurses and doctors that spend their lives working to improve treatment for kids like Cora.
I wouldn't have seen love in action the way I did from my dear sweet friends. I've never seen people care so much and act so selflessly.
I wouldn't have ever gotten involved with CURE, LLS, Make A Wish, or Give Kids The World.
I wouldn't realize how important it is to continue to strive for a cure.
I wouldn't have gotten to follow along with the stories of all our other cancer friends we've made along the way.
I feel like we love more deeply, cherish the small moments more, trust more completely, and count our blessings daily.
I am thankful for November 13, 2008, but I am even more thankful for the difference a year can make.
We're not out of the woods yet.
We've got 14 more months of chemo, but we'll get there one day at a time.
Please keep Cora in your prayers.
Thank you for checking on us and praying for us throughout this year.
We love you!
