“She’s so brave, and she’s trying so hard…she’s only 2.” And just like that, our world shifted and we remembered. Ben and I had found a few moments together in the middle of these crazy last few weeks, and as we talked about everything, we remembered…she’s only 2. It wasn’t until the words came out of my mouth, that it truly hit me…something about hearing it. Sometimes, in the midst of all of this seemingly never ending sea of tumultuous emotions, we (or at least I) somehow forgot she was only 2. She’s only 2, you guys. 2 years and 8 months old. She has been through more than so many of us will experience in a lifetime (or at least until we are well advanced in age), and she isn’t even 3. I think I get so caught up in the “to-do’s” of all of this…the clinic visits, the meds, the timing, the food, the isolation, the insurance, the normal day to day duties, etc., that I forget she’s only a toddler. I don’t know if that even makes sense, because how can you forget, right? She has had to grow up so much, way too fast. She has had to learn to take medicines she doesn’t like, endure shots, endless cycles of clinic visits, hospital stays, all things a 2 year old should really have no idea about. When I sit and really think about it, I honestly feel cheated of her childhood. I feel cheated of the innocence that childhood is supposed to bring. I feel cheated of the early friendships she could be forming (and the boys as well). I have a really hard time watching other babies turn 2, thinking that they are embarking on a really (challenging but) fun age, and we missed out on that.

But then I look at her, on days like today, and wonder how she can be SO resilient, so brave, so strong. She is running and smiling and laughing a deep belly laugh all the time. She is playing like she doesn’t have a care in the world. She is feeling better, and she tells me so…”I feeling better today momma!” It is a miracle how her body rebounds time and time and time again. I think I get scared that one day her body will say, “Nope, no more,” but she’s too strong for that. She’s too determined for that. She’s too in love with life for that. This girl has a God-given passion for living and laughing and we are constantly reminded that God is with her, and with all of us. And God is bigger than cancer, God is bigger than the side effects of chemo, God is bigger. And God’s got her. And God’s got us. No matter what, God’s got us. God is still God, and God is still good. “Watch what I AM can do.” Our mantras, our foundations, our faith.

As I sit down to write this latest update, she’s on the brink of starting part 2 of this horrid cycle, and we’ve pretty much emerged from the fog that was part 1. If you follow me on Instagram, it was a little quiet over the past few weeks, and I gave a quick update last week. To put it all bluntly, the first part of this cycle (Delayed Intensification) was absolutely brutal. We were prepared for it to be rough, but I honestly don’t think we were ready for HOW hard it actually was. In the days leading up to the beginning of this cycle, we had our beach trip, and a handful of other activities that helped us feel “normal,” and I wouldn’t have traded these for the world. It also gave her body a huge boost, as far as her counts go (which I think has saved her from at least 1 blood transfusion). However, looking back, I think that somewhere in the midst of all of that, Brynna settled into “normal” herself, and maybe started to think this was over…with no clinic visits, no chemo, nothing to make her feel sick, who could blame her? So when we headed into clinic that first Tuesday morning, I just felt a cloud settle over her, and I think she sunk into some depression as she realized not only was this not over, but the brutal part was just beginning. I wanted to cry as I watched her. That first day, she had to be NPO (meaning she couldn’t eat anything after midnight) for her lumbar puncture, and I forgot to put the numbing cream on her port site before we left the house (I’ve only forgotten 2 times, and BOTH times, she was NPO, which makes those already super hard days just that much harder). This added at least a good hour to her wait to eat, and I felt absolutely awful. I remembered the cream about half way to clinic, and there was nothing I could do (I now keep some cream in the car just in case!). Her nurse put cream on when we got there, but you have to wait at least 45 minutes for it to numb the site, so all in all, that made the morning (and day) soooo much longer and harder for her. She received 2 IV chemo’s that day, one lumbar puncture (spinal tap) with chemo, and 2 doses of steroids (one in the AM and one in the PM). She had 2 doses of steroids for the next 6 days as well, and that Friday, she had one more intense IV chemo.

I don’t think there are adequate words to truly describe how terribly hard those days were. The “roid rage” as we call it, peaked on Thursday and Friday. I cried a lot. She cried a lot. Our hearts broke…again. She couldn’t sleep, but she had no energy; she was starving but couldn’t find food she wanted, she raged, she needed constant snuggles and touch, she needed comfort, she needed us. I’m not sure how many all-nighters (or almost all-nighters), Ben pulled with her over the course of those 4 weeks, but it was a lot. During the day, she wanted pretty much me, and only me, and I felt so torn between wanting and needing to comfort her and snuggle with her, and wanting and needing to spend time with the boys too. We always had 2 adults here, at all times. We watched more Peppa Pig in those weeks than we have, the rest of our life combined. I will say, we did have a bit of a reprieve during week 2 (her week off of the steroids), and that was really needed!! We got a few small pumpkins and had a family day, painting pumpkins and doing some fun fall things. It was needed for all of us! The 2nd portion of her steroids (during week 3) was in someways, much harder. Although the rage wasn’t as bad, the neediness was bigger, the exhaustion (but inability to sleep) was more intense, and her physical appearance changed, seemingly overnight. One day I was sitting on the couch next to her and just felt itchy, like there were little hairs all over me. I looked down at her head, and noticed bald spots. I ran my hand over her scalp, and her hair basically just fell out in my hand. I wanted to weep. It had been growing back SO beautifully, and it all fell out again. We knew it was coming, but that doesn’t change the fact that it is so incredibly hard to see. And then the steroids puffed her face and body up like crazy. It was all just an outward sign of the chemo whipping through her body, and it is so awful to think about the physical turmoil her body must be feeling. I can’t even imagine.

Despite all of this hard, there were some really sweet moments and good things that happened too…

…Halloween fell right at the beginning of week 3, so she was actually in a good spot (a week off of the first round of steroids, just beginning the 2nd round) on her clinic day. Her sweet nurse, Cate, knew that Brynna was going to be a ladybug for Halloween, and went out and got a ladybug costume to wear, just to match Brynna. Hands down, one of my favorite days of clinic!! We are incredibly blessed with some amazing nurses and doctors, y’all. Truly.

…as impossible as it is to reason with a 2 year old on a good day, add in the steroids, and that is where a lot of the tears came in. However, as we learned how to “ride out” the rages, she also learned to say, “I sorry momma” and “I sorry daddy”, and we were really, truly proud of her. Like I mentioned in the beginning of this post, she’s only 2, and she was trying so very hard.

…I got away. How that happened is a miracle, but it was Ben’s idea, and him and my parents made it happen. It was a long weekend in DC with my sister and my cousin, and more refreshing and needed that I could have imagined!

…Ben is amazing y’all. He is with Brynna every.single.night, and then gets up and goes into work every day. Your prayers over him are truly felt! He is so patient and loving with her, and just an incredible daddy.

…your prayers and encouragement and checking in, were the light and support we so desperately needed.

…we celebrated my birthday as a family, over the weekend, and at one point, I was in the kitchen, and she just walks in and says, “Happy birthday momma!” Tears instantly filled my eyes as it hit me that she was HERE, celebrating with us. I will never take that for granted. Ever.

She didn’t make counts last week to start part 2, but she made counts yesterday (ANC of 1800, woot!!), so she’ll start that today. These next few weeks will be rough, once again, but not as rough as what we just went through, of that I am certain. They are the hardest weeks we have left (radiation not withstanding, because I have no idea what to expect there), so we are on the downhill slide. That’s what we keep telling ourselves. 🙂 And this week off, like all our other delays, has been much needed not only for her physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. The other day, I was laying down with Wyatt and Brynna, trying a group quiet time (ha!), and I hear snorting from her side of the bed. I told her she needed to be quiet until the timer went off, and she pipes in with her sweet little voice, “I just oinking momma.” And I laughed so hard. (Also, you know you’ve watched too much Peppa Pig when…). Hahaha! Oh that girl. She has a desire and knack for making people smile and laugh, and she knows it. We are so incredibly proud of her!!

And thank you SOOOO much to every single one of you who have prayed, brought meals, encouraged, supported, and loved on us! It truly means the world. Please pray for continued good health all around over these next few weeks! And pray for her strength, resilience, and her spirit to remain intact. Happy Thanksgiving week, y’all! We are so thankful for each one of you!