They Are My Reason

I've been here before. The hospital rooms, the unanswered questions, the calm resolution and clarity of priorities. I've held my husbands hand before as they told us he had a brain tumor...told him before that we would beat this, we'd fight it. Four years ago actually. And we did, we fought and we won. Or this is what we thought. But I'm standing in the ER and the Doctor shows me the cat-scan and tells me it's back. And it is. Bigger, badder. And I lean down to tell Dustan in a choked whisper..."its back babe." And he says, "that's not good". And its not. I know this. I've been here before...but I've never been here before. Because this time, back at home, there are two little girls who call us "mama" and "dada". Because this time, there are innocents. Two little lives that belong to us. This time, it's not just me, or us...its ours. Because this time the stakes are higher. And we know this. And I wonder, how strong can I be?

It's an ambulance transfer, drugs, tests, scans, and a frenzy of Doctors. It's questions, and possible solutions, and the reality that the answers are unknown. It's numbness, and resolutions, and a determination to get through. I've been here before...but I've never been here before. Because tonight instead of staying with Dustan in his room, I will go home. Because there are two more little people that need my care. So I leave him...and wish I could be more then one. Tonight I feed them and dress them and sing them lullabies. Tonight I hold them and tell them I love them and tuck them into their cribs. And tonight little Emmie pulls herself up to grip the bars and expectantly cries. "Dada! Dada! Dada!" and something inside me tears right in two, top to bottom and everywhere in-between. And it hits me so hard it could have been a freight train. This time, it's not about me, it's not about Dustan, its' not about us. This time the reason for fighting this is them. They are my reason. Emmie quiets down and goes to sleep. Yes, she would get used to not having her daddy there to put her down... but I never want her to. Both my babies need their daddy. Both of them adore him and he them. But little Emmie is so much like her father. I want her to know how she is like him, I don't ever want to have to tell her. And little Ellie is my coordinated sportswoman, I just know it. And I need her dads physical talent and ability to nurture that. Yes, this time, they are my reason.

I don't know if I would call it resentment. But this motherhood thing has been slow in coming for me. Slow in taking hold that I am now not my own. I often feel in a blur of functioning, and less of really experiencing. But tonight there is something bigger then myself. Something wholly powerful beyond my own understanding that takes root. THEY ARE YOUR REASON. The reason for everything I choose, I do, I endure.

And so, my strength is gathered around me with a new purpose. Stronger and bigger then I ever knew possible. I put on my boxing gloves and stake down in the corner of the man who my children call "Dada." And I fight, I fight, I fight. I tell him we will beat this, I tell him we will live...really live. I tell him we will simply work this into our extraordinary life. I hold his hand while he vomits. I clean him up when he cannot clean himself. I spend sleepless nights repeating bible promises to him to ease his troubled mind. I answer the same questions over and over because he cannot remember. I help him sit. I help him stand. I help him walk. And we walk, and walk, and walk. I ride the emotional, mental, spiritual, and physical roller-coaster that is brain trauma and cancer. And I fight, I fight, I fight. I am tired. Not tired, more then tired...weary. But I fight, I fight, I fight with him, for him...because they are my reason.

We take each day for what it is...and we live, really live. There is something beautiful about this. Something precious and holy. It is a privilege to see life like this, to understand the clarity of your priorities. To have so much to live and fight for. I do not resent it, I do not fear it. They tell us there is no cure. And then time lines are discussed. And I find myself calculating where the girls will be in life. There is never enough time to love them. To watch them grow and learn. There is never enough time to discover these incredible little humans who God has somehow graced us with. They are my reason. And I fight, I fight, I fight.

Dustan is an incredible man, with incredible spirit. And together we will win again. It may not be forever, but it will be rich. We will live...really live. We will keep growing, keep learning, keep exploring, keep moving until we cannot anymore. Until we have to succumb to our humanity and go where every man most go. We will do this for our children. They are our reason.

I will not stop. I will do the harder thing. Today I came home from radiation and tried to make amends for a house in chaos while Dustan rested. My girls where restless and demanding at my feet. I wanted nothing more then to put in a movie and zone them out. But my strength gathered round me and I pulled out the finger paints. I stripped them down and put them on the kitchen floor and we painted. Bright splatters of wild color,  hand prints, and feet prints, and chaotic swirls. And at the end there was more paint on them and the floors then the paper. But we lived...really lived. They are my reason.