Tuesday, May 25, 2010

More Thoughts. . .

I'm still upset about the news I received yesterday. I didn't sleep hardly at all last night and was up thinking about Tripp and his family. There is something fundamentally wrong with a child having cancer. After watching my own children fight for their lives in the NICU, I developed this belief that they were fighting the hardest that they will ever have to fight. The rest of their lives would be "smooth sailing." I've held fast to this belief that Olivia will never know the pain of losing a child or have to fight as hard as she did when she was born. She deserves to live a fulfilling and wonderful life devoid of anything causing her turmoil and pain. She has been through enough. Now, I know my belief is severely lacking in probability because God never promises us that life will be easy. That belief was quickly dispelled when I figured out getting pregnant wouldn't come easy. But, for some reason I can get through each day knowing that the worst is behind us. Then, I learn about Tripp, a 23 weeker just like Olivia, who is diagnosed with cancer. The news just affected me in a way that I cannot explain. That is not supposed to happen. Not to such good people who have already been through a lot. It just shakes me to the core and leaves me wondering what to cling to. It's hard to believe that God always wants what is best for us when you have to watch your children barely hang onto life in an incubator or hold your 1 month old deceased son in your arms for the first and last time or watch someone you love fight against cancer or. . .the list goes on and on. It's easy to forget what life is really about and I guess that's where I'm at. I want to teach my daughter that life is good and carefree, but how do you do that when there is so much suffering in the world? I don't know. I just don't know.


Holli Taylor said...

Please don't think for one minute that I wasn't every bit as angry as you are now about Tripp...after caring for him and literally watching him survive the NICU it seems so unfair that he and his family would have yet another road block during his life here on earth. I know Ashley and Jamie are hurting and scared. I know Tripp is terrifed as he endures yet another long hospital stay with unpredicatable outcomes.
But let me say this...the one thing that inspired me so much about you and Ryan was your unfailing faith in the Lord. We don't know why things happen, why children are taken, or anyone for that matter. If I remember correctly only about 600 children are diagnosed with neuroblastoma in the U.S. each year. Why does it have to happen now and to someone we love and care about? I don't know. I'm angry and scared and just praying that he is one of the few that pull through.
My heart aches for the Strattons. I wish there was something, just SOMETHING I could do as human to make this easier for them...regardless of the outcome. But I know there is not. So I'm left to turn to the Lord. He's the only one who knows what each day, each hour, each minute holds.
I swear that every day I hold my son closer, tighter and with more love than the day before while praying for those that are walking a more difficult path than me. I only hope that during these difficult times that I can put my faith in the God and know that he gives, and he takes away for reasons unbeknowst to us.

Kerry said...

Oh Jodi, I'm so sorry. You must be very shaken by this. You and Tripp's family have already gone through so much. It's so unfair that Tripp and his family have to continue to struggle. I know when Olivia came home it took you a long time to be able to relax even a little about her health. To have proof staring you in the face that Olivia's struggles early on don't protect her from future struggles must be so hard. Same for Tripp. No baby should have to fight so hard to live, let alone have to do it again.

If you think it would benefit the Strattons, give them this link:


The Layla Grace Children's Cancer Research Foundation was created in honor of Layla Grace (laylagrace.org) who died recently of neuroblastoma cancer. Her parents created a foundation to help raise funding for cancer research and to assist families of children going through treatment. Perhaps the Strattons can find some support through this Foundation.

Thinking of the Strattons and you Jodi. Keep your faith, but don't worry about being angry at God. I'm pretty angry myself and I don't even know Tripp.

Hope to see you soon. Give Olivia an extra hug for me when she gets up tomorrow morning.

Megan B ♥ said...

I'm too am up late tonight, sleepless, about another friend whose son (my daughter's playmate) was just diagnosed with lymphoma of the intestines today. Cancer sucks. I can't even believe this.

I can relate to your erupted fears and dishevelment over this situation, in light of what you have already been through. I too like to pretend that the worst is behind us. It's much more sane to pretend that than to live the way I used to live right after Dex died and soon after we brought Crew home.

This is an excerpt from my blog a while ago:

"I find myself up a lot at night. Sometimes it's because the Tiny Prince has unswaddled himself and wakes up thinking it's snack time. Other times I am just up, thinking about the future and mentally solving potential catastrophes unnecessarily.

I don't consider myself a pessimist by nature, but this last year has been pretty overwhelming in a lot of ways and apparently it's affecting my psyche. It was a year ago that we found out that we were expecting twins. It's been one... "adventure" after another since then. Now that life seems to be leveling out, I find myself terrified to let down my crisis-guard.

Justin's job situation has finally stabilized and I'm absolutely in love with our house-to-be (which we closed on Thursday, yay!) My children are healthy, things are really mellowing out; it's almost like things are too good to be true and I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, anticipating another major disaster.

I just can't seem to embrace the possibility that maybe my "Nauvoo period" is starting. I've been running on adrenaline and faith for so long that I can't figure out how to turn off my crisis-radar. I check to make sure Justin and the kids are breathing all night long; every time we get on the freeway I think "this could be the end of us. All it takes is one mistake." I went through a similar experience after we came out of the 7 months of cornea surgeries following the Great Candyland Incident. It took a long time to stop bracing for looming disaster. This feels very similar... only more intense.

Blech. This grieving thing is really icky sometimes."