Dear Madeleine

I'm pretty proud of myself Squishy. This last week was not an easy one, but today I watched some of your videos and SMILED for I couldn't help myself!! You were so cute!!! And wonderful, blessed memories: your first and only real bath in the tub, your one and only Christmas, watching yourself in the camera of Daddy's phone and telling yourself "hi baby". Such wonderful memories. And I got to watch them without any sadness, without crying, just LOVING you. And it felt good.

I love you Madeleine. Miss you tons baby. 

I Cannot Die Every Time

Yesterday was a doozy.

In time, I know my perceptions will go back to the way they should be; thinking of other people's circumstances and not personalizing them. To some extent, I do that now. The one exception is children with cancer. Who die.

The last time I posted about Talia Castellano, her outlook seemed grim, and I braced myself. I had grown to love this little girl who accepted in her heart that she was chosen for something much greater than herself. She had become one of the most public faces of childhood cancer. She wanted to make a difference. She wanted to bring awareness to the serious lack of interest in funding cure research for children. It only makes sense. It's common sense because kids have their whole lives ahead of them, she told The Truth365 in her interview with them in 2012 (a wonderful documentary for the cause I might add). I loved her for the child she was, the things taught to the masses through her, and the love and compassion for kids with cancer she stirred in the rest of the world. Although I didn't know her, I understood her struggle. I too was in awe of this little girl, for God's sake she was only 13 years old! Her vocabulary was beyond her years, she was fashion forward, beyond internet savvy, technology savvy: she was a firework. Truly, and completely.

So when she wasn't doing well, I dared not say, I felt in my heart she was going home soon. I truly wanted her to be healed, but I also wanted Madeleine to be healed. I braced myself for the flood of emotions. It always strikes me deep in my heart when another child passes; I also cry when these kids have triumphs and milestones they meet, thriving. I'm still so tied up and twisted in my emotions over my own daughter, how could I possibly keep my mind right for others? Each child is special; there are some that are especially special. Which is why I was devastated in April, when SARAH went home, or last December when HAYDEN took her last breath. And why I was so heartbroken and tears flowed like rain yesterday for TALIA. I didn't personally know these girls, had never met them, BUT I LOVED THEM. At the same time, Jeff brought up a very good point: am I truly mourning their death, or am I reliving the anguish of Madeleine each time? It could be both. Because these times of deeply emotional feelings are not to be personalized, it is not about me, or you. It's about that child, that family. And yet I still pray for myself when I pray for them. I hope that doesn't make me a terrible, self-centered person. I think - I hope - it's just a still brokenhearted mother missing her own child. And having lived through that once, I deserve to never live it again. Yet that's what I'm doing to myself. I can love them and admire them and cheer them on from the sideline to have faith, have hope, and fight for the cure till there is one. But I can't love them all like MADELEINE.

The neighbor across the street had a beautiful, full, leafy green tree a few months ago. I was aghast when walking my dog I saw him cutting the tree off completely. The entire fullness of the tree was gone. All that was left were what looked like tall stumps for branches. Bare. Vulnerable. Colorless. I thought for sure that tree would die. There was far too much of that tree cut away to survive. Today, and only today for some reason, I noticed that tree. Lush. Green. Healthy. I realized that one day, I too will be full again. My branches will grow and restore to be healthy again. There may or may not be any sign of this period in my life when I felt like I would die, when I felt bare, vulnerable, colorless, hopeless. I may be an amputee now, missing a huge part of my heart that I have always worn on my sleeve, sometimes to a detriment, but one day I will appear whole.

God Bless Talia Joy, may Jesus hold you close with Madeleine in the kingdom.

Big Sister's birthday, 4th of July, Life Goes On

How to begin....

I want to do an un-sad update. I don't know if that's possible. My perception is misconstrued. The other day I shared how and what Annalise prays for. What I interpreted as her heartache and missing her sister, many perceived as faithful. I don't know how long that lasts, or if it ever goes away. Perhaps the closer we get to reuniting with Madeleine, the less it will hurt and always be understood as pain.

Big Sister just had her 4th birthday. It was a lovely two days just the three of us and new experiences. Dolphins are her new favorite animals after a whole day at Sea World and seeing them up close and personal. Sometimes it's been difficult to give ourselves permission to be happy, to enjoy those moments. And then when we do, and our minds play cruel tricks on us: Annalise never got to have a birthday with Madeleine in it. Her third birthday was very important to us to spend alone time with her after so much time apart living at the hospital, we decided then it should just be the three of us. It hadn't occurred to us Madeleine would be in heaven for the fourth. Some things we can't help regret.

This Fourth of July had a special highlight: big sister finally has the confidence to swim on her own. She still hates the loud booms and noises from the fireworks, but a long day in the pool nonetheless. Last 4th of July Madeleine was home from the hospital just 3 weeks with clean MRI results, and to be honest, I can't remember for the life of me what we did that day. The only thing I do know: it was the only one we had with her.

6 months. Tomorrow (Tuesday)  it will be 6 months since we held her last. I wish it were longer than that. I want to look into the future, one day closer at a time, instead of looking back. Looking back included her in our arms, but looking back can quickly become a tangled web of pain, suffocating, despair. Up until now I have never experienced the painful sensations of suffocating: anxiety times 5. Perhaps like an allergic reaction. My throat constricts and nearly chokes me. 

I can only describe my own sorrow, though I know Sister misses her immensely as well. Just recently she woke up very early and refused to go back to bed. I turned on a soothing tv program so she could lay on the couch and relax, it must have been about 6:30 am. About 3 hours later (yes, I know, terrible of me) she exploded into a fit when I turned off the television. She cried and screamed at me, stomped her foot, and cried some more. Upon calming her down, she was finally able to tell me that "the baby channel helps me learn about my sister. My sister is a baby. I miss her Mommy, I want to talk to her. And never again! I can't talk to her ever again!" My heart breaks for her. Though I know she won't ever forget her.
This afternoon we went for a walk and met neighbors down the street, two little boys, 3 and a half and 20 months. It was really the first time I didn't mention Madeleine when thinking of her, watching that little guy walk around with wide legs and that completely adorable way only he can say his big brother's name. I smiled and went back down the street, reminding myself that Annalise is here, she needs me every day, I love her more than life itself and I must never put her aside in place of my grief. I still have one smart, sassy, beautiful little girl to be the very best mommy I can be to her.

"We don't understand why God does what He does..."

To be completely honest, I hate this phrase. 

This world is so out of it, so disconnected, that "people" fail to realize... God did not create cancer. God did not choose for my child or any child to suffer. God did not "do" this to Madeleine.

People need to study history. Study how the civilization of people began to destroy themselves by the quest for power and independence. I am by no means a philosopher, historian, theologian, or the like. I am simply a mother, a cancer mother, who fought side by side day in and day out with faith and perseverance to save my child from death. And in the end, I did not fail; rather, my child was victorious. She received all the glories and peace and beauty of heaven. She is cured. She is without pain. She is an angel. Of course I miss her with every single ounce of my body and soul, but I know that God did not give her cancer. 

Tonight I am reminded of this as I pray for Talia Joy Castellano, a young girl who has become the face of childhood cancer. She is one of many that I pray will not die. For her and for selfish reasons, because I love her. I love who she is, her wisdom beyond her years, her thirst for life knowing it may be cut short. 

We don't know why God does what He does. But I think it's for the movement. Talia is as much a mountain-mover as Jessie Rees, or Avalanna Routh, or any other child bringing more and more people to awareness of this epidemic, to this movement we seek to make serious change, not unlike a woman's vote or racial equality. Children deserve to live and thrive; good parents deserve to be parents. This tragedy should not continue daily, should not be ignored, should be given the attention it deserves because it can be prevented. Just enough people have to care. 

Talia is fighting for her life tonight. I am praying for her. She can be found on Facebook (Angels for Talia), Instagram, you tube, etc. A simple google search and her story can be shared. Please pray for Talia's healing on this earth so she can continue her message for all children affected by and battling cancer. God forbid she become a true angel, her message carries far and wide and not without impact. God bless Talia Joy, Jessica Joy, Madeleine Sunshine....