On Cards From Your Kids.

I'm not sure cards from my children ever felt more sincere.  More important if you will.

I've always read them with sincere gratitude and so much appreciation.  The card they gave me on Sunday had the most loving words from them. 

Kris acknowledging his love for me, but in a new found way.  A way we never knew we'd find.  A way any mother would love and do for their child.  A way that we all dug deep into eachothers soul to make it from one day to the next.  I will never forget the look on his face when they discussed his diagnosis in such a matter of fact way-  I can remember feeling like someone punched me hard.  In the face.  And instead of falling to the ground, I did what any mother would do. I proceeded to plead with him to believe.  To believe that everything was gonna be okay.  When truth was, I had no idea.  I spoke from a panic mode that only God knows how I got through.  I will never forget pacing the halls as they administered his first chemo and he went into some sort of "riggers" they call them.  I watched my daughter collapse into a gurney down the hall next to an elderly sweet woman pushing an iv cart.  Caressing my daughters head and telling her it was gonna be okay.  I could hardly walk. Or breathe. Or console my sweet baby.  She walked down that fucking hall to get out of my sight. 

And yet, we all marched on.  All of us. 

My son held on extra strong.  For us.  For me.

I remember him telling me he sobbed one morning in the shower because he felt so scared for me to lose him. 

To put me through that grief.  He remembers running around the front yard as a little guy and me standing there watching him. Something about the love of a moms face.  Her eyes. Something you feel as a little guy. 

We've always had a tight bond.  

He swore to keep pushing, for me.

And so words.  They mean so much more now.  Hugs mean so much.  Laughter especially.  We all rub each others backs when just sitting next to the other.  We'd never do that before.  We tend to look deep in each others eyes if something is bothering.  

We all send text messages each day throughout the day.  Mostly work related for him now as he's trying to get back in the grind of life.  He still sends me silly pictures of my grand-doggo.  

Everything has a different meaning.  Love you's mean so much more, if you can even fathom adding to that term.  

His words inside of the card etched deep.  Same with Kali.

I remember staring in his eyes when he was handed to me as a baby and was scared to death. 

I never knew I'd love something so deep.  I never knew how much I would fight to protect a human from things.  From pain.  From heartbreak.  From illness.  From scary. 

Kris took this picture of me on my last night of administering his TPN.  Something that I will go to my ashes proud to of made it through.  It's not the most flattering picture.  As a matter of fact when he posted it on his instagram account on my birthday I thought oh, man. How bout' those neck bones...haha- #lipbiter

It's best to have pictures of these things in these chapters.  Those tired evenings when my tired hands and eyes worked hard for him because I had to do anything and everything to help him get better.

The inside of my card read :  

You are the most thoughtful and caring person to ever walk this earth. Thank you for all you do for all of us. I love you.  Kristopher- Bub

I love you too Kris.

There's a full moon in our worlds right now. And to say the tides are pulling us all in different ways is true.

Bear with me as I navigate through these days.  To read my blog each day and wonder when and how I'll ever shake this life style of mine.  Some of you thinking...dang, enough of this cancer/transplant/crybaby stuff----The sadness or happiness in my world.  Thank you for bearing with me.  Until I'm ready.  Please bear with me. Can you imagine my poor Bill...it consumes our conversations.  I just can't stop. 

Can't stop won't stop.  kidding.

I still wake each day petrified.  What's worse, is you know how hormones kick our ass? Well, sometimes I wake and realize this mess and think oh my gosh, it's real...and this drop of butterflies still enter my tummy and I wonder when...when will that madness stop.  Will it?  Will my body excrete this trauma forever?

Because man....if so....

Praying each day that one day this will be just a memory.  Not the best, but a memory.

Thank you for standing by my side guys...

Keep pushing.  Hard.  And let this full moon do it's thing.  

Smile at the meanies.  

Or hide. 

Whichever works best for you.  

Or if you're feeling really daring, ask me to send you a drunk picture of me from my birthday weekend Saturday night. You'll spit your drink out.  #zombie

Note to self- Limit yourself girl.  Limit. 

Or....."Dance like nobody's watching"-

Maybe that. 

You've come a long way baby....and you always hold HOPE in your hands...

This Mama Lisa