With a new baby, I find myself up at all hours of the night and early morning feeding, rocking, and changing diapers. Often, I surf the Internet on my iPhone (really, what did people do before the iPhone). One night I came across the blog of a mommy with a chronically ill child. She writes that the best advice someone gave her to was to remember,
"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain."
Even writing that sentence, I get goosebumps. We have lived through a nine month long storm. A storm that neither Allen nor I ever expected to have to weather in our early thirties with two young children and one on the way. A storm that taught us so much about ourselves as individuals, as parents, and as a couple. A storm that showed us how much we are truly loved by our friends and family.
Looking back, there were definitely times I wanted to curl up and wait "for the storm to pass," and it is those times that Allen, or the kids, or the little baby in my belly reminded me how important it was to keep "dancing" - to be thankful for each day we had together and enjoy the things I might have taken for granted before. Because getting caught up in the thunder and lightning does nothing but make you miserable.
Dancing in the rain isn't easy. But, I definitely had some amazing teachers.
The CANcer Ninja literally kept both Allen and I sane throughout all the chemotherapy treatments. While we dreaded every other Friday's treatments, we always looked forward to seeing him. He would come in the room smiling, knowing we probably had some long list of crazy questions to ask him that would take up way too much of his precious time, but he never seemed to mind. And, that meant so much. We always left that room feeling confident that Allen would beat this stupid CANcer. Thank you CANcer Ninja for the strength you gave me that allowed me to dance in the rain.
My CANcer friends - friends who have been through the CANcer storm themselves or with a loved one - were the most amazing role models and always knew just the perfect words to say at the perfect time. You were there to love on our kids like they were your own while Allen had surgeries or doctors appointments or treatments, and you never even hesitated when I asked you again and again. You were there to send me text messages every day just to check in on us and make sure we were doing ok and to send Allen encouraging notes on the days he had chemo, and you never forgot, not even once. You were there to listen to my updates because some days just talking about something that I could wrap my mind around, like a procedure or appointment was so important, because CANcer is just something I couldn't seem to grasp. Thank you CANcer friends for the love you gave me that allowed me to dance in the rain.
Our families went above and beyond to make life as easy as it possibly could be with two young kids, a hormonal pregnant woman, and a Daddy fighting CANcer. Thank you for dropping everything to fly to Arkansas and take care of the kids for weeks at a time while Allen and I navigated through the early days of his diagnosis. And for staying "on call" for nine months while we weathered the storm. The nights you watched the kiddos so Allen and I could have some quiet time just to breathe meant more than you will ever know. And seeing Brookelyn's and Braedyn's smiling faces as they came back home allowed me to enjoy those nights, just knowing they were being spoiled in a way that let them too to forget about washing hands and germs and their Daddy being sick. Thank you to our families for the peace you gave me that allowed me to dance in the rain.
It was a Saturday when the ER doctor on call told me my young, healthy, triathlete husband had CANcer. Sunday was a really hard day. Monday was tough too, waiting to see the doctors on Tuesday and start the diagnosis process. Tuesday I remember standing the in driveway waving to Brookelyn as she left for school and Allen coming out to wave too. When we looked up we saw the most beautiful double rainbow in the sky. I hadn't seen a rainbow in a really long time, and I told Allen that I knew that it was a sign things were going to be ok. Throughout this storm I have often thought of that rainbow. I am not a believer in coincidences. A rainbow, you know comes after the rain. But, in this case I think it was sent before, just to remind us to hold on through this, the toughest storm we had faced, to dance in the rain, even when we were scared or exhausted because the clouds really do always clear. Allen's last treatment is tomorrow, and I have a feeling we might just see a rainbow really soon!
