We have this hope.

It started Friday night. A phone call in the evening from Brady’s oncologist.

Despite the test findings, his team feels like the best thing to do is to start him on chemotherapy. An every ten day regimen to keep his leukemia under control starting tomorrow.

We were shocked. We thought for sure we had skirted this part of the journey.

But after we officially entered the trial, the CHOP team began to really dissect his case. His team there as well as here agreed that his cancer is far too aggressive to risk it coming back.

When we say this leukemia is the worst, it really pretty much is.

His white blood count will literally go from 3 (his normal range) to close to 50,000 in days.

Not weeks.

Days.

If it does that he won’t be stable enough to move forward with the HuCART therapy.

And this therapy is basically all we have left.

So it just isn’t worth the enormous risk to play the “wait and see” game.

That conversation felt like I was stepping into a tiny room. That was part one.

Saturday I buried my feeling and emotions and amped ourselves for some family photos and then the Buckeyes game. We were getting off the exit when out of no where Blake said, “look! It’s the James!”

Brady chimed in, “yeah, that’s where I came for radiation.”

The door to that tiny room slammed shut.

I felt like I had been punched so hard in the stomach I could barely breathe.

Like there was no oxygen left in my lungs.

All at once images of Brady lying on that radiation table flashed before my eyes. I wanted to break down into tears that very instant. But Brady doesn’t remember half of it and I wasn’t about to bring it all up.

So I kept myself composed and drove on tucking those feelings way down deep.

Sunday came and we had a great time at the Crew game. The boys soaked up every second getting to watch their favorite players warm up from the sidelines.

Then the air started to slowly leave the room I was shut in.

First it was looking at the pictures from the Crew game. Those dark circles under his eyes have always been an indicator of what is happening within. And there they were again. Clear as day.

Then, it was seeing his super thinned shoulders in the pool. Cancer patients have a distinct look in their shoulder and hands. If you have ever known someone personally with cancer, then I’m certain you know the exact images I’m talking about.

And the final blow. Right as we were walking upstairs to get the kids to bed, an update popped up on my phone. Another brave cancer warrior had lost their battle that afternoon.

Another sweet and brave kiddo. Gone.

I did Brady’s oils and prayed for him. He quickly fell asleep after the long week we had had. I could hear his quite breath and then just like that I felt as if all the air in that room got sucked out.

I sat there leaning over him as silent tears rolled down my cheeks and I tried to find air, but felt like it was impossible.

I finally got myself to bed and at 2am I woke up in a panic unable to breathe again. So many images flashing in my eyes. So much uncertainty ahead. So much out of our control.

For the past 24 hours I have been in and out of crying.

It is as if the enormity and reality of where we sit has finally caught up with me.

I walked up to the soccer field tonight to watch the boys and I lost it, again. For like the tenth time today.

Thankfully we have the most amazing friends and together they prayed with me right there on those sidelines as the tears continued to stream down my face.

I played this song over and over today and continue to cling to every word, maybe it will help you find peace and hope in your battle too…

“As I walk this great unknown

Questions come and questions go

Was there purpose for the pain?

Did I cry these tears in vain?

I don't want to live in fear

I want to trust that You are near

Trust Your grace can be seen

In both triumph and tragedy

I have this hope

In the depth of my soul

In the flood or the fire

You're with me and You won't let go

But sometimes my faith feels thin

Like the night will never end

Will You catch every tear

Or will You just leave me here?

But I have this hope

In the depth of my soul

In the flood or the fire

You're with me and You won't let go”

Please Lord, catch all of our tears. The unexpected ones. The ones that come when we aren’t prepared for them. Lord let me feel your love and hope in this moment. I know you are near. I know it. I can feel it in every moment. But it doesn’t make this not hard. Days like today just weigh too much. I can’t carry it so the weight falls down my face like rain from the sky. Please Lord, catch these tears. The tears that make us human. The ones that let us know our pain is real and the enormity of the situation is upon us. Let our worry and fear wash away with every tear we shed. Let each of them be cleansing to our body and refresh our souls. And Lord protect Brady’s body from this chemo he starts tomorrow. Strengthen every organ within him in a way only you can. You know the damage that has been done. You know all that needs to be restored. Allow this therapy to keep him stable. Allow his inner warrior never to fade. Let him bounce back stronger than ever. Above all else know that our hope for success lies with You as we journey.

We have this hope.

In the depths of our souls.

Shields up.

Swords out.

Clinging to hope,

Kristin

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