After waiting patiently through the New Year’s break, we finally have the oncologist referral approved through our insurance. Taylor made the appointment and it’s just another waiting game until we see this new doctor in a little over a week. In the past eight days that we’ve received the news, I have allowed myself to cry only once. Is that normal? Through my life I’ve always had this heavy feeling that I have to remain strong for everyone else. I have to be the rock. I might be a goofball of a rock, always cracking jokes to lighten the mood, but at the core, just a rock. I’ve taught myself to numb out the fear, the pain and worry. But, do you know what I’ve learned from that? Nothing. I’ve only prolonged healing and understanding. I’ve had to teach myself to trust in my emotions. And even more so trust in the Lord and his plan for our family. I’m okay with only one cry session as of right now. Because they’re so much that is still unknown. What staging is the cancer? What will treatment look like? Will this affect his job? But, instead of being taken captive by the spirit of fear. We’re living in the hope that our God is good and just. I feel an overwhelming amount of joy. I think I can speak for both Taylor and I, that we both feel an overwhelming gratefulness. We’ve had a renewed joy in each others company. Don’t get me wrong. we did before, but allowed it to be clouded by the technologies of today. Taking longer to finish reading that Instagram post instead of being in each others’ presence. The past week has been the exact opposite of that. Our house has been overflowing with patience, love, conversation, and family hugs. I wouldn’t want it any other way. *I spoke too soon, this post brought on some tears. But the happy kind. I’ll take that.
Here’s a six month old Isla Quinn laughing her toosh off. It’s medicine for your soul. How do I have an 8-month old already?!