UGH. I should be sleeping. I can feel myself getting tired. I tried. I really did. I cuddled up with Ronan and he was sooooo snuggly. He soon fell asleep. I did not.
As soon as I started to drift off, the nurses began coming in and out — checking his fluids, his blood pressure, giving him his anti-nausea meds — and they finally started the chemo around 1:00 a.m. This means we’ll be here until Saturday now.
I’m not complaining. I’m not going to have a breakdown like last time. I am seriously thankful that we are moving ahead. I am thankful that he is strong enough to start round five. One more round after this — which we will do in New York City — and Ronan will be finished with all of his chemo.
I think it is going to be bittersweet. I have learned to depend on the chemo simply because I know it is killing his cancer. Being off of it feels a bit scary to me. All of the unknown in all of this is scary. I just have to remember: deep breaths and one day at a time.
This baby is so precious to me. I guess I have such a strong bond with him because he is my last baby. Even though I would have ten more if Woody would let me 😉 Kidding. But I do love being a mommy and having babies. I think it is the greatest gift on earth, and I am so proud to be the mommy to three amazing boys.
There is something that has me a little shaken. Maybe not shaken… I don’t know how to explain it. So I’ll just tell you.
Every summer, when I am in Washington, I take my journals home with me and write my heart out. I write about what we’re doing, funny things the boys have said or done, what I’m feeling — everything. Washington purifies my soul. It is slow-paced, peaceful, quiet. I have so much time there to reflect.
A few weeks ago, I remembered something I had written in one of my journals while I was in Washington, and I couldn’t remember if it was real or if I had imagined it. I went and dug it out. Sure enough, there it was.
I remember waking up in the middle of the night, grabbing my journal, and scribbling down:
“This is going to be the hardest year of your life. If you can make it through this, you can make it through anything.”
I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I re-read it. It unsettles me. How in the world did I have such a strong feeling about something that it caused me to wake up in the middle of the night and write it down? I don’t know what possessed me to write that, but it was written in early August. Ronan was diagnosed August 12.
I never thought this would be what I was up against. But it is.
And I’m not sure what it all means, but somehow I knew something was coming. And I know I have to fight my hardest and pour everything I have into Ronan, Woody, Liam, and Quinn.
Ronan will beat this. We will survive this as a family. We will win. We will have a positive story to tell when all of this is said and done. Ronan is the strongest little boy out there, and I know if anyone can beat this, it is him. He is fighting every day and will never stop. I, as his mommy, will never stop.
The outcome of this will be beautiful and life-changing. It just has to be.
2:00 a.m.
Okay. Really going to try to get some rest now.
Thank you for listening to me. Thank you for being my outlet.
G’nite, again.
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