First, because I know it’s a question on a lot of our minds:
We still have no results.
Truth be told, we didn’t expect any today, but were hopeful.
It’s just not been our favorite day due to a variety of circumstances.
It is what it is though. Some things we have no control over.
I had planned this whole big post for today. September 30th. The last day of Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, but I’m seriously so tired.
Getting Avery to transplant day, the preparations, her blood sugars, the planning, the sleepless nights, the anxiety, ALL OF IT.
It’s been an exhausting couple of weeks, and it’s only going to ramp up as we begin the transplant process next week (hopefully).
So, as most of you go back to your every day life, and the country begins to turn pink, we’ll still be doing everything we can to get Avery well.
Besides, I often wonder if the collective whole is scrolling past our childhood cancer facts or even stopping to read them.
I get it. Babies with cancer is sad. Kids with cancer is sad.
It’s easier to scroll past and turn away than to dive into our world.
I would say I used to be that way, but I have always been an empath.
Turning away breaks my heart even more.
Perhaps it’s the amount of cancer we’ve dealt with personally in our family.
The memory of losing our friend, Caleb, to DIPG 10 years ago.
Whatever it may be, it’s always mattered to me.
It may not matter to you, until it’s your child.
Every 3 minutes a child is diagnosed with cancer.
15,780 children’s families will be touched by a cancer diagnosis by the end of this year.
40,000 children, Avery being just one, will continue to be in active treatment.
As the clock strikes midnight and pink-tober begins, Mom & Dad will be sleeping on separate sofa beds in Avery’s hospital room waiting for her next finger poke.
Her next vitals check.
Her next medicine.
The clock strike doesn’t change anything in our world.
We’ll continue trying to educate and inform. We’ll keep sharing Avery’s story.
And we’ll continue to be grateful for those of you that do comment, message, share and lift us up.
You don’t go unnoticed.
We talk about you as friends knowing nothing more than your IG handle or FB name and avatar.
Many of you have offered us more support than some of our closest family members. I can count on one hand how many share our updates and facts.
Childhood cancer isn’t pretty.
It’s not fun.
It’s a nightmare I’d never wish on anyone.
That baby girl means the world me, to us, and we’ll continue to stay on the front lines of this fight no matter what month it is.