Gradual.

If there's one thing I've learned about being a mama, it's the inevitable treacherous waters you WILL tread in.  Not sure it ever goes away.  For me, it feels as though I've been put in the ocean with two sets of oars.  One set is wide, with a perfect handle.  While the other set is smaller, thin, with weak handles.

Each time I set out in the treacherous waters, I reach for my wide handled oars.  Sometimes though, I grab for my small oars.  Those small oars really don't offer me much of a pace, and so I kind of just go along in a scurried pace.  Sometimes going in circles. 

As a matter of fact, more times than not, I go in circles.  Fear is my true handicap. Lots of fear. Something I am NOT proud of.  Instead of shifting my worrymode to warriormode.   I clam up and dwell. 

And fret.  

I can't tell you how many times I've heard "Just hand it to God, and pray"

THAT. IS. NOT. EASY.

Just as I can imagine you readers out there rolling your eyes as I post yet a.n.o.t.h.e.r sappy post about this journey, I get it, me too.  

The problem is, it's all too new.  It's all too raw.  

I still watch others in the fight. 

I still support others in groups.

I see shit happen.

WE are never guaranteed. 

Period. 

And so, I thank you for hanging in there with me.

To my homegirls, you girls that reach to me with your fingers gliding through my tangled hair, wiping tears, and hugging me tight.  Your texts' are what will forever get me through the treacherous waters. And I hope I can help you row some day too.

Shell, Kyoko, Roxanne, Maria...you girls....YOU are my rocks.

I love you. 

To my neighbor Erica whom fed me every single morning before I left my house with my warrior stick.  And left food most nights.  

YOU, are my angel on this Earth.

Your purpose is known. 

My sister whom still takes my calls even after I've bitten back.

She listens to me wholeheartedly each and every time. 

Even when I repeat myself. 

Same goes to you my lover who still hears me on repeat and never ever says a word.
To my family that will drop everything and show up when the shit hits the fan.
They are there.

Unless you've walked in a shitty path, you'd not understand just how deep the oars feel like they're digging.  

Sometimes the current slows down, and sometimes, not.  But most always you feel like you're just trying to make things better.  All along, you want to just move forward. 

Getting on with life, per say....

Just like life, there are times I feel as though I have a good grip, while other times, I feel as though I don't.  With that said, during my journey of taking care of my son, I've lost my grip {emotions} more times than I'd like to admit. 

When I say I lost my grip, I truly, whole-heartedly lost all faith. 

Many nights spent up over analyzing percentages. Numbers.  Counts.  Medicine.  Doctors.  Emails. Questions.  Viruses. 

Meanwhile I watch a son out in life navigating through days of which he never deserved.  

I am lucky.  He's here. 

On Friday we headed to good ol' Hollywood to see our beautiful doctor.  The woman that radiates love when she walks into the room.  One of the things I love the most about visiting this place is the comfort of their hugs. Those nurses hand out the love to Kris the minute they see him.  They also have the familiarity of motherhood and just what my smile offers.  It's almost like this motherhood club.  All three women.  Staring at the face of a mom who now just carries her ipad.  Filled with info that took the place of her warrior bag she carried.  With all the notes.

After reviewing his counts, we'd learn they look fantastic.  

My next request, was the Chimerism. Report.  Something I asked for back in January, yet the report hadn't been generated.  The Chimerism Report is how much of the donor is in Kris. How much of Kris is left.  

And you know something?  Sometimes I want to see things, while other times my soul is just a tad bit nervous to know.  But as I sat there staring at my handsome birdie, I thought, Lisa, what the fuck, get these answers. 

And the answer was this.  The minute she read it to me, I melted.  My sweaty underarm gathering clammy goodness in seconds.  Kris and I met eyes and of course as tears welped in my eyes, his words were..."wow, guess I'm just lucky"-

My next questions to our doctor were the percentages our other doctor so freely exclaimed to Kris back in April of last year.  So nonchalantly after being asked by Kris.  "So, what are my chances of living a long normal life Dr. D"--- "Um, I'd say 60% to 60 years"-  

Although those percentages and numbers look and sound pretty hopeful, when you hear any sort of percentages as a parent, you just slide back in your seat and think WHAT THE FUCK. 

Dr. Sahebi says, oh...no, these are good numbers.  He's what we consider full transplant. He's all donor at 98%.  

And on and on she went.  Filling us up with her sweet goodness.

Before leaving, rubbing his shoulders and calling him her son...

He did receive two more vaccinations.  Also noted more GVHD in his mouth. 

(it's where the donor cells fight against any old Kris cells)

The odds are in his favor.  Yes he'll fight through viruses more than other people. Yes, he'll continue on his chemo. Yes, he'll feel like shit some days. Yes, he's trying to rebuild a broken down body. 

Yes I will warrior on with him.  Yes, we will get through the rest of his days.  As the same for me.

For now, and on Friday, the days were just a little brighter.  

I have a GERMAN son.  Danke!

My weekend from there was an uphill love fest.  I woke on Saturday for the gym. From the gym to the nursery. From the nursery to Goodwill.  From Goodwill to Old Navy and Ross.  From those places back to where my heart has always been.  With Mother Earth.  Gardening. 

And you guys.....my heart was so full.  I kept talking to myself.  About thankfulness.

About him. About life.  About gratitude. 

I prayed many prayers of thanks.  I prayed for the peace in those in the fight right now. 

That sometimes life hands you big oars and sometimes life hands you skinny ones. 

Just know....YOU WILL GET TO THE OTHER SIDE.  Keep Faith in front, and keep praying.

My second request from our littlest birdie was to host a little luncheon for her roommates. 

They'd be headed home for spring-break.  

Mama and papa do what we know best....

Fill em with goodness and love. 

Next stop Mammoth for them!  Lucky duckies. 

Meanwhile it's back to the grind for us.  Back to turning the working wheel and pushing fiberglass in the direction we know.  Work hard, play harder has never felt so true.  Or I guess I should say it's what our weekends are all about.  Two days to let your hair down...er, wait.  I mean, slam it up and go enjoy a sunset.  A smile.  And good wine.  

In other bad-ass breaking news, my cousin Mike and my Aunt Susie ran the LA Marathon. 

Just that sentence alone deserves a standing ovation. 

Or in the case of my family, they do signs.  Cardboards signs that are just incredible. 

Worse parade ever is the best sign of all signs.  

LOVE. 

Thanks for standing or sitting or laying here with me.  However you read my blog. 

Thank you.  This journey has been one hellava rollercoaster.  One that I wish to toss the tickets in the trash.  But then again, how selfish does that sound while others lost their tickets.  And never got the chance. 

I just hope the line they stood in wasn't all that bad. 

Either way, just remember this is all a gradual pull, one way or the other. 

Don't give up. 

All my love to you homies.

This Warrior Mama Lisa- Pro Rowing Rower. LOL