Friday, June 20, 2008

Hope in the shadows of darkness

I don't think this situation could be any more surreal than it already is. It seems that around every corner is not just bad news, but the worst news possible. At first, Chunks-a-lot's neuro-oncologist here at St. Jude's told us that she had a 50/50 chance of overcoming this cancer. Although 50% isn't the type of statistic I would've hoped for, it was still enough for me to cling to with hope. But today, things had changed. All the doctors that deal with childhood brain cancers had met yesterday to discuss cases and Chunks-a-lot's medical file was amongst those reviewed. After much discussion, they have now told us that they don't think she has a very good chance of beating this tumor. His exact words, "I know I had previously told you that it was 50/50 but for her I'm going to have to say that the percentage would be much lower. She doesn't have a very good chance of surviving this cancer.". I felt like my entire soul just floated away, up into a world where none of this existed. For a moment I sat motionless, not even able to produce any sort of response. Numbness....it's a new state of being that I have recently discovered. To have pain and agony stabbing at you constantly, deeper each time, yet never really feeling the wound. For one of the first times in this journey, I felt hopelessness creeping in. "NO God, do not take this child from me. I love her, I adore every part of her, I relish every second of every minute I have with her. Where are you in this? How can this be her future?". I found myself pleading with God, begging Him for the relief that I have sought so often in this journey. I wish I could tell you that He answered me, but He didn't. And for the first time in a long time, I felt alone. I think about how hard it is to grow up in this corrupted world and I wonder if God is just saving my little girl from all of that. Or I wonder if the impact her life is having on people across the nation is worth her suffering. And yet who am I to decided what is "fair"? All I know is that it hurts, it hurts in a way that I have never felt before in my life. She seems so happy, so healthy and completely oblivious to the cancer that is growing in her body. Sometimes I wonder if she's scared like I am....and then I see her giggling at the nurses as they poke at her belly and I realize that she's clueless to the tragedy that surrounds her. So for her sake, I'm still listening for God's answer, for God's timing and for His grace to engulf me. Today was hard, maybe one of the hardest days thus far, but the story doesn't end here. My sadness has overwhelmed me but I can't let this be the day where I give up. So I'll still stand by her crib at night watching her chest rise and fall and thanking God for each breath. I'll still watch every step she takes, knowing that it's by God's grace that she is still doing this well. And I'll still kneel by my bed each and every night and beg God for a miracle for my little McKaylee. I won't give up, I can't give up....I still believe

3 comments:

Megan said...

Jess, my heart is breaking for what you are going through. Are you OK? I just can't even imagine, but know that I am praying, and I tell everyone I know to pray for you, too. Be as strong as you can, don't feel guilty when you aren't as strong, and cover your baby girl with love. Remember that God IS there, and that sometimes your grief can keep you from hearing Him.

Rachel Garcia said...

I don't know what to say.. Other than I mentioned the update to our sunday school class (at Briarwood). We are praying. All of us. For her, by name with specific requests.

Jules said...

I am crying over here at work. Seriously, thanks alot!! ;) The way you write and express your feelings is amazing. You are NOT alone. Keep searching, keep hoping, and, most of all, keep believing- not only for a miracle, but in the One who holds McKaylee in His hands- the Lord our God. "This too shall pass."