The Girl who Ate Everything

I knew from my research to expect Brooklyn to be hungry from the steroid dexamethasone she was taking as part of her chemo treatment. I knew that it would be a ravenous uncontrolable hunger. I had no idea that it would completely take over my life. These days much time is spent in the kitchen making pizza, serving pizza or cleaning up after pizza. She wakes up begging for pizza and goes to bed in the very same state. When I finally put the pizza in front of her she looks almost relieved. Scarfing down each and every bite and then typically asking for more.

I realize that this may not be the healthiest diet, however the days leading up to the diagnosis, her appetite had been reduced to almost nothing. I'm conceding to the pizza because I'm just happy to see her eat right now. Perhaps in a week or two I'll attempt to steer her in a more healthy direction. But for now, my precious baby, who hasn't gained an ounce in six months is eating, and is loving eating, and damn it I'll take whatever I can get at this point.

Weren't we just here?

The answer is yes! We were just here. Just ten days before our sweet Brooklyn was diagnosed with leukemia we were bringing our second baby girl home from the hospital after a rather lengthy stay in the NICU. She was born 7 weeks premature. Prior to her arrival I spent a week in the high risk maternity unit after being diagnosed with a dangerous liver disease. Needless to say after all of that I was feeling pretty confident that we had filled our dramatic family event quota for the year. I was sorely mistaken.

To most people, it would seem a bit unfair that a single family should encounter so much trauma in such a short amount of time, and they would be correct. It sucks big time. I'd much rather be sitting at the park, still big and pregnant, watching my pixie headed two year old tromps around the playground getting dirty. Instead I'm holed up in my house under quarantine during one of the worst flu seasons to date with a 5 pound one month old and an immunosuppressed toddler.

It would be easy to sit in my confined state and dwell on the way things should be, and I'd honestly be lying if I said I hadn't sobbed over a glass of wine at least a few times in the week since Brooklyn's diagnosis, but I'm reasonable enough to know that this is not at all productive. Wallowing is not going to help my preemie catchup developmentally and it sure as hell isn't going to save Brooklyn's life. If the news is bad enough, then cry, get it all out. But after that, pick yourself up and figure out what needs to be done next.

The silver lining here is that I'm not entirely sure that I would have been able to care for Brooklyn during this time if I were just a week away from having Indie. Instead I am lucky enough to have both of my girls, safe and sound under one roof and in my arms. Always look for the silver lining. Always.

Take Everything but Leave the Kid

"Brooklyn's test results are consistent with Leukemia." This is how the news was delivered to us... and I want to document this, get it down in writing, because I fear that this is something that I might one day forget. Words that were delivered with such ease that the actual event of receiving said news was almost anticlimactic. In the beginning of all of this I had briefly wondered  how on earth you drop such a substantial bomb on a parent and now I know. I wish I didn't, but I do.

So now my kid has cancer. She's two, and she has cancer. I'm not entirely sure what kind of force out there is running the show but it has got one fucked up sense of social justice. For the most part, it still doesn't feel real. It's as if every day I wake up and need to remind myself that my daughter is sick. The most difficult part to grapple with is the fact that as a parent you wish that the universe would make this battle yours and not your kids. Never in my life could I imagine my daughter fighting for hers.

So here we are, closing out week 1 of an apparently intense and grueling five week treatment program known as "Induction" or "Phase 1". I have yet to see any really bad side effects from the chemo in Brooklyn except for the fact that her temperament is just a bit more "colorful" than normal and she sleeps a little more.

My daughter hasn't ever been anything other than brilliantly fearless and I have no doubts that she will beat this thing, but I'm still terrified.