Saying Goodbye

 Have you ever thought about all that the walls in your house have heard or experienced? That is what Rick and I thought about last night when we sat together after the kids were asleep. You see life has changed again for the Gilmartins. We got an offer on our house two weeks ago and a contract the next night. We will be moving to Staunton in May. We still have the details to work out with inspections and closing dates, but it looks like it is a go. As we sat in amazement at God's provision for our family, a mix of emotions went through out minds. We are mostly excited and so grateful. Our hearts are in Staunton as we minister there each week and look forward to really getting to know and serve that city. We have been praying boldly since our house went on the market about 70 days ago that God would bring a buyer to our house. Seeing that prayer answered so quickly is a reminder to us of the faithful God we serve that hears our prayers. So this move is exciting!
 It is also somewhat sad. These walls have seen and heard so much with our family. This is the house we brought our baby boys home to. This is the house that we have grown our family of 6. And this is the house that we survived cancer in. It is funny, besides normal transitions, the cancer part is the hardest for me to say goodbye to. Don't get me wrong, I am glad to say goodbye to cancer, but it is the memory that every room holds here. The places Andrew got shots from our dear friend Margie. The couches we held him on when he wasn't feeling well. The cribs that Andrew slept in while he wasn't at the hospital. The kitchen that prepared his favorite meals to keep him eating. Rooms I saw dear friends scrubbing from top to bottom in order to "de-germ" the house for our boy coming home from chemo. Even little things like stickers I have packed that he received from friends to keep him busy while he waited on scans and surgeries. It is amazing how many memories this house could share regarding our cancer journey. As we entered the beautiful spring time with our trees blooming and flowers coming up, I am reminded of last year when we had just weathered the storm in the winter and how alive we felt. Our house has been a safe haven for us, as well as many family members and friends that came to help, during that time. So yes, there is a part of me that is ready to turn the page and be done with the "cancer house," however, there is another part of me that is grieving.  We are saying goodbye to a huge chapter in our lives and taking a step of faith to believe that the next chapters, even if they are scary, will be perfectly written. There will not be a mistake in the story or something that we could have avoided. God knew what house we needed to be in to walk through cancer with Andrew and He knows where we need to be for the next chapters in our lives.
 Becca made a chain tonight counting down the days until we move into our new house. We have 22. 22 more days of packing. 22 more days of "suburban" living. 22 more days to look around at the walls that weathered so much with us. And 22 more days to get excited about the next adventures we will have as a family of 6.

 And so because there is not much happening with cancer here now (and hopefully forever), we will also say goodbye to this blog. This blog was started to keep everyone updated on Andrew's progress and what was happening in the hospital. It ended up being an amazing tool to help Rick and I process through so many deep thoughts and emotions as well as share our story with those who wanted to keep updated.  But Lord willing, we will not have to go down that road again and so we will say goodbye to our friendly readers. Thanks so much for your love and support. We are forever grateful to you and especially to our great God and Healer.

Perks to Childhood Cancer?

 Well, dedicated followers, we are approaching our one year mark. One year since the nasty tumor was removed from Andrew's chest and we said good-bye to cancer. March 5th was the day of the big surgery and that day approaches quickly. It has been a year of celebration, rememberance, trial, and joy. We have sung "Happy Birthday" to all 6 of our family members. We have splashed in the pools over the summer and relaxed at Nags Head last July. We have travelled to Disney World in October and had a magical, unbelievable time for a week in Orlando. We were very thankful at Thanksgiving and joyful, yet somber at Christmas as we rejoiced in another holiday together, yet, remembered when this journey all began. Yes, this has been a year of many memories for our growing family. The girls still talk about the time with cancer, while Andrew cannot really remember the hospital stays, "tubies", surgeries, or scars. We are thankful for where we are now and continue to worship the God that writes every day of our lives. In March, Andrew will have another MRI to check on the safe, but lingering cancer cells in his body. This will mark his one year recovery and we will go to MRI's every six months rather than every three. Hooray!!
  As we prepare to close out this blog (as we don't anticipate much more to write about regarding cancer), there are two little tidbits I wanted to share. I hope to bind this blog in book form to always have on my shelf to remember the journey of hope we were on in 2009-2010. Anyway, a little girl named Hayley Kudro, who suffered from an aggressive form of neuroblastoma, was interviewed by the national news. It seems that some amazing researchers have discovered what looks to be a cure for many types of neuroblastoma. I have attached the two links that you can watch on this amazing litle girl that lives in our town (and we knew from UVA) and what has been discovered in the way of cancer cures. It is a true miracle from God!!


http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=6912919n&tag=mncol;lst;2



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZYdiVIqO-o


  The other fun tidbit is one of the perks that has come from this battle with childhood cancer. Besides the amazing, all inclusive Make A Wish trip that Andrew received in October, he also was surprised by another gift at his last appointment. Rick took him in for his monthly check up and the nurse asked Rick if we had ever received a blue and black totebag from a group called Jeffery's Gifts. He said no and the nurse returned with a duffel bag full of some things. It had a new book for the kids, the Jungle Book dvd, a Walmart gift card, a free Papa John's pizza coupon, and an envelope inside. The nurse told Rick that he could open the envelope in the clinic and decide what he wanted for his "big purchase item." Rick had no idea what to expect, but as he pulled out the piece of paper, listed below were things like a brand new Wii, an XBox 360, a camera, a camcorder, or a Best Buy gift card. I was in a meeting with someone when I got the call from Rick saying, " You will never believe this....." I didn't have time to chat about anything, so I said, "Have fun with the decision." Well, Rick filled out the paper and when Andrew goes in for his check up this Friday, he will coming home with a free X Box 360. Crazy! I guess  that's one of the "perks" of childhood cancer.

Surrender

   Happy New Year to everyone reading! We hope this year brings many blessings and exciting things for your family and ours. As I pull down the old calendar from my wall and put up the 2011 one, I can't say I am that sad to say goodbye to 2010. Don't get me wrong, there were many fun things that happened and blessings that I experienced, but several of the "fun things" like Disney World, or personal growth, or even God's working in Rick's vocation came about because of some really hard things. Our biggest struggle, of course, was cancer. Andrew had his last MRI scan on December 28th and as far as we know everything looks good and nothing has changed with the size of the remaining cancer cells. Praise God. We breathe a sign of relief.
 So where does that bring me in 2011? I find myself reflecting how I have changed and how our family has changed. I find myself thankful to not only have made it through 2010, but also to have thrived in many ways. Our family is closer and more sensitive to those that hurt around us. We laugh a little more and cry more often without hesitation. I have watched four precious children's hearts develop in ways that I couldn't have imagined and I do believe that the trials, the fears, and the last year's challenges have really aided in those ways. The Christmas story meant more to us this year. The kids loved to talk about how Jesus was born and He came to help those that were hurting and in need of rescue. They reanacted the story of Joseph and Mary together and sang the tradition Christmas songs at the top of their lungs. We celebrated Jesus' birth and already began to talk about how wonderful it was that Jesus came to us, but even more amazing that He died and rose again! We would still be in darkness if He hadn't come and especially if He hadn't risen again. And you know what, I think the three oldest got that amazing concept of Christianity a little bit more this year. I am thankful that we have grown and seen God more in our lives.

 On the flip side, my flesh struggles a lot with fear. The word that keeps coming to my mind is surrender. I must surrender my life, my kids, my security, Rick's job, all relationships, and all control over to God. He is the one that is really in control and has all my days ordained. And you know, I am scared. I believe He is Sovereign, but I get scared that He isn't good. I get scared about what might be around the next corner. Will I be able to handle the next trial? Will something worse happen that will tear my family apart or seriously challenge my faith? Will we make it through? How can I prevent chaos? How can I control as many factors as I can to keep myself saife? Madi and Becca are going back to school on Monday and I will cry my eyes out when they leave. I have LOVED having them home for the entire two weeks (I didn't think I would love it this much) and I don't want to let them go out into the "world" again. I want to keep everyone close and protect them and never let anything bad happen. But I can't. I can't control my world or theirs. This concept is so scary. I am being challenged already on this first day of January with a pretty huge job...surrender. Allow the God of the universe to have it all. He already does, but He wants my heart to believe that too. He wants me to believe that He has the best in His heart and that He loves my family and I more than I do. He is not out for harm or mockery, but He is out to make us more like Him. He is not here to remind me that He is safe, but that He is good. So that is where I am right now. I will take one step at a time to place my life and the lives of my dear ones into His hands. And I will try to not take them back again in my heart. I know in my head that there is freedom in surrender, but the steps to get there are hard and very scary. May God be glorified in my baby steps and may whatever comes in 2011 remind me that He didn't "bring me out of Egypt "(or cancer) to kill me, but to allow me to trust and love Him more.

One year later

The lot to write this post has fallen to me. I can't say that I am ultimately very excited about this endeavor; there is still a large part of me that wants to wander in the hinterland of denial. Yet it is appropriate that, one year later, I lead off just as I did then. Yesterday was diagnosis day, the one year anniversary of the nightmare that was and the troubling dream that is. Today I try and put to words some sense of what has been going on in us and I will probably fail.

I could begin this simply by speaking of where we were this time last year: the cold harshness of the fluorescent lighting and spartan hospital room, the fear of unknowing, the intimidating presence of something in my son's chest that I could not see yet constantly filled my mind. I could begin there but my heart is not in it.

I could begin instead with where we are now: Andrew's health and vitality, his complete ignorance of anything that happened last year, the girls's memories and questions of the hospital as soon as the Christmas tree went up, the unbidden memories that randomly return to us as parents with certain smells or songs. This would be as good as any place to start but I can't quite bring myself to do that either.

The reason for this is the ambivalence I feel today. This ambivalence is due to at least three voices that are warring in my head. The first is the voice of denial. Denial is loud and talks a lot. It is not a commanding presence but rather an annoying one. It fills the air with words to keep the silence away because with the silence comes reflection and with reflection comes truth and truth, as they say, can be inconvenient. To keep that away Denial is trying desperately to move me from thing to thing, from distraction to distraction to keep me away from something that might cause me pain.

The second is the voice of Rationality. Whereas Denial simply seeks to keep you distracted, Rationality seeks to make you believe something that, though possibly true, might not be the most helpful thing. It is commanding and convincing, speaking with authority laced with a tinge of shame to keep you in line. Today Rationality is trying to convince me that because Andrew hasn't had any treatments since March, that since our story has thus far ended well, that thus I should be unfazed by this anniversary. More, I should in fact simply be celebrating the reality that I have my son and my life has returned to some semblance of stability.

The third and final is the voice of the Heart. The Heart is the voice that is quiet but persistent. With enough busyness it can be drowned out and it isn't very good in a debate, but it doesn't give up. The Heart reminds you that you are human, that you actually feel things, that things aren't the way you know they are supposed to be. The Heart somehow navigates the brokenness of the world and still speaks with hope and expectation. Today this voice is reminding me of how bad this day was a year ago. Today this voice is trying to get me to live in that place where the walls fell in and all of life changed.

Ultimately Denial won out. It is now a week since I began this post. In the time between writing we've gone through Christmas eve and Christmas morning (both surreal experiences of remembrance) as well as a trip yesterday (Dec 28th) to UVA for Andrew's latest MRI. A year ago today (Dec 29th) Andrew was in surgery getting his biopsy.

My experience yesterday echoed that day. I hope I will never get used to the strangeness of holding my boy as he goes limp from anesthesia. A year ago he laid on my lap as the white liquid was slowly injected into him and within seconds he was out. I handed my life over to a doctor who took him back to an OR. When they left I remember holding Jess and crying. The tears came not just from what was coming but ever just the reality of having a lively little boy turn limp in my arms. The eeriness remains with me. Yesterday was the same. I held him until he was out, placed him on the bed they would roll into the MRI room and walked out to find my wife. The tears came again; sure not as many and not with the same force, but they came. They came with a subtlety that was more filled with sadness than fear. The ironic timing of his MRI kicked Denial and Rationality to the curb and allowed the Heart full access. My life is still not normal.

All signs at this point are that Andrew continues to be fine. An unofficial look at the MRI shows no change either way for the minuscule masses that remain. That is fine since it is likely that those masses could remain with him his whole life, silent reminders of the terror that he barely experienced and will never remember. That strangely seems appropriate this morning as I write. Maybe that is the perfect metaphor for where we are as a family. The emotional masses that remain in us are smaller, but they are still there. Every once in awhile we are reminded of their existence. Some times the reminder comes with tests and dejavu like yesterday. Some times it comes simply by seeing a picture of Andrew with barely any hair or hearing our girls playing with their dolls who still, every once in awhile, get cancer. One would hope that these masses would go away collapsing into the sweet realm of forgetfulness, but that would somehow cheapen things. Ultimately what Denial and Rationality do is they seek to minimize what has gone on to limit the amount of continued fallout under the assumption that the pain that this event brought might destroy us. It didn't destroy us then and it won't destroy us now.

That isn't bravado nor is it presumption, it is an acknowledgement of something greater than the pain. One of my biggest struggles of faith through all of this time has been one of the same struggles I have always had... only amplified. It is the doubt in God's goodness. I'm a presbyterian which means I am big on God's sovereignty (the idea that God rules and governs all things by His unfailing will) but sovereignty is no comfort unless you can also believe in God's goodness. Someone having ultimate power is scary unless you know that person is for you. That is where remembrance comes in and that is where Denial and Rationality do us all a disservice. You see unless I consistently practice the discipline of remembrance I forget that in the midst of that nightmare I never felt abandoned. Unless I am forced to taste those tears again I forget that their bitterness was countered with the sweetness of a Presence that I could not reproduce. Unless my mind is taken past my fear into those images and feelings and experiences I will forget that our story was one of mercy and that cancer did not win.

That is the strange thing; Denial and Rationality, who seek to keep you from thinking about your pain actually make it worse because they keep you from remembering the One who brought you through it. They strengthen the shadows that surround that pain, make it look bigger and more frightening than it really is, and deny the redemptive role that it was intended for. A year later we are still a family like any other except that we have a child with cancer.

Before and After

 I did something silly the other day. Luke had broken a fruit plate all over the floor. After cleaning up the pieces and reassuring the kids that it was okay, I proceeded to dump the them in the trash. Some time went by and I came downstairs to make a casserole for dinner. As I was cleaning up the mess on the counter, I took some things over to the trash. It appeared full, so I without hesitating, I pushed the trashed down with full weight, forgetting the glass inside. I pierced a hole right below my thumb and have since had to readjust to doing things with one hand. As I was upstairs that night checking my email, it dawned on me that the last time I had checked it, only a few hours earlier, I didn't have my "boo-boo." I started thinking about how quickly a life can change with an accident or traumatic news or a joyful occasion like the birth of a baby. My cut, although fairly minimal, had changed my plans and my abilities for that evening.

  This event also began my thinking again to this time last year. Madi was about to turn five and we would celebrate at a local bakery with a princess theme and a few friends. The Christmas cards had been sent, most of the gifts bought, and the second advent candle had been lit. Everything was going along as "planned." This time last year we had no idea what was about to hit our family. We had no idea that Andrew's cough was more than infection.

  As December 22nd approaches, a day that will forever be etched in our memory, Rick and I are faced with many different emotions. We of course are so joyful to have another Christmas with our precious Andrew. We rejoice in God's healing and His faithfulness. However, we also find certain songs bringing us quickly to tears. Pulling out Christmas decorations that I had so fervently stashed away two days before Andrew's long stay in the hospital brought about some feelings of rage and indifference. At one point I wanted to throw it all out the window and forget Christmas. Our lives were changed last year as individuals and as a family. The "dreaded" date approaches and so many memories come flooding back into my head. But time will not stop. We will get there and we will survive. We will mourn the loss of "innocence" that was taken from our boy that day and rejoice in the amazing beauty that came from the ashes. We will hold each other a little tighter and be thankful, Lord willing, that we have nowhere we have to be after Christmas.

  Before and After. Many of Rick and I's conversations have referred to "before Andrew had cancer" or "after we made it through his treatments." Our lives refer to this time period because although it feels like ages ago at times, it was only last year that we lived it.

  And we are amazed at where we are now. Before Andrew had cancer, I had never felt the love of God or His people like I have this year. Before Andrew had cancer, I didn't have a beautifully made blanket by a friend to keep me warm or some new Christmas decorations given in care packages. I wasn't as close to my parents or my sister-in-law and her family. Before Andrew had cancer, I thought I was somewhat in control of life and what happened to my family. I believed I knew how things would bring deeper character. Before it, I believed I would never survive the news of a family member having a tumor, let alone make it to the other side. I didn't have a new friendship that began with meals and has blossomed into real life. Before Andrew had cancer, I had never been more terrified of losing something so dear and so relieved when God decided I could keep him. I have learned to pray more and trust more in my heavenly Father rather than myself.

 Our family has made it to the other side. This year we didn't just survive, but we flourished. We became stronger, more dependent, hopefully more thankful people. It has been a wild year and we will give praise once again to the little baby that came at Christmas and is mighty to save!

     Below are two Christmas pictures. The first one is our "before" taken last Christmas and the next one is our "after" taken this Christmas season! Merry Christmas to you and your families!

Deja Vu

 Everything is quiet except for a faint noise that is coming from upstairs. It has lessened, but it is there all the same. It is a cough. A cough that brings with it so many memories and horrible nightmares. For the past week or so, Andrew has had a cough. The doctor said that is was just the common cold and his last scan showed nothing out of the ordinary. Still the cough that has been here for the past two nights has brought some anxiety.

     A few nights ago we were at Target as a family just getting a few things for Rick's new, amazing office in Staunton. The kids love to look down the toy aisles and dream about birthday presents and Christmas gifts they might get. We were walking around almost ready to checkout and the cough started. It kept going and going through the checkout line, into the car, driving out of the parking lot, and on the road home. It kept up so much that it made Andrew sick. We cleaned him up, settled the other thrree kids down in bed, and continued to care for our coughing boy. After almost 2 hours, I had to take a break. I went down to do some theraputic cleaning and get ready for the next day. Rick called me back upstairs to help him out and Andrew had gotten pretty sick. However, he had stopped coughing. We don't know if he was actually choking on something and just had to "get it up" or what, but after that episode, he was fine and exhausted. Rick and I were a mess and just emotionally drained from it all. Sweet Andrew kept talking to us the whole time about Disney World and roller coasters he wants to go on next time he goes and just kid things. He is such a trooper with his joyful spirit and his "sick bucket." He fell asleep around 9pm and slept the whole night without one cough. Rick and I proceeded downstairs to debrief and just hold one another. So much for picture hanging and planning that we had on the schedule for that night.

 Then last night it happened again. Right after bathtime (Rick was at a meeting) Andrew started coughing and just couldn't stop. This time he didn't get sick, but it just kept nagging him. The girls went to bed and I pulled Andrew out of his room so Luke could fall asleep. We lay on the bed together just talking, praying, and singing. He was so sweet. He just wanted to talk between coughs and try to get to sleep. At one point I just lost it and put him back in his bed so I could escape for a little while. I need to just "clean" or something to try and gain some idea of control. Of course at night and without Rick, my mind was going crazy. I keep thinking about all we went through, the x-rays, the "innocent" cough he had this time last year, and what might be lurking in his little body. I thought about how I could not handle the news again, and just wept over the brokenness of cancer and lives that are affected by this awful disease. It is not a "one time" encounter. The fear and memories continue to haunt us. As I was tucking him in to go downstairs, I told Andrew I was going to pick up and get into my pj's. He sat straight up, looked at me, and said, "Mom, do you have animals or Thomas the Trains on your pj's?" He was not worried at all about his cold, he needed to know what my pj's looked like. I kissed him and prayed as I shut the door that he would be able to stop coughing and go to sleep.
 The coughing slowed until finally he was asleep. I sat downstairs with a glass of water and my scrapbooks spread all over the family room floor. I looked through wedding pictures, seminary pictures, baby books, family parties, and trips, and even glanced quickly at the hospital stay last December. The memories and trials of my life filled my  mind and heart. There are many situations that I thought Rick and I would never make it through. Cancer being the biggest. But we did. We made it through. We still struggle and remember and fear. We still wonder if God will bring that awful beast back into our lives. I think about our amazing Make a Wish trip and I hope that was the pretty bow that tied up the end of that chapter. We will see. Thankfully, I don't have to know. I have no idea what my path will have in it next or how we will make it through. But Jesus does and He promises to never leave me nor forsake me.
 I prayed last night before I closed my eyes that my children (all of them) would be spared from major health problems. I reread Psalm 91...a Psalm I prayed over Andrew multiple times especially verses 14-16. I asked God to bring this mother's heart peace to sleep last night and to trust that our doctors will lead us through all this. And I fell asleep to a quiet house.

A Little Piece of Heaven

"A little piece of heaven..." there is really no other way to describe this past week. Imagine a place where you never doubt that you'll be taken care of, or forgotten, or allowed to be free to experience all your dreams, or to just feel special all the time. That is what this Make A Wish trip was like. The neat thing was, this trip was because Andrew had cancer, but it truly was for the whole family. As Andrew's parents, we could tell he was treated a little differently, but all of us were made to feel special. All of us were treated like royalty and allowed to do everything we wanted. This trip allowed us to celebrate as a family the victory we had over cancer and to feel like everyone we came in contact with understood our battle and celebrated with us. Let me spend most of this blog sharing our week and the great memories we made.

 From the moment we began the trip on Monday morning, we were honored. We were picked up in a stretch limo at our family's house.

  We were ushered to the front row of the airplane and cared for the whole flight. When we landed, we were greeted by a "Give Kids the World" representative holding a sign that said, "Wecome Andrew Gilmartin!" After visiting Avis car rental, we drove away in a 2010 Sienna van. We arrived at the most amazing place to stay we could have dreamed. It is called Give Kids the World and it truly does attempt to do that very thing. We were spoiled rotten with everything from ice cream all day long, free meals, a park that looked just like Candyland for the kids to play, tickets to all the amusement parks in the area including Disney and Universal Studios, and a whole suitcase full of treats for the kids to take home. We were also given parking passes to the parks and a tag to wear that allowed us to go to the front of all the lines. Yes, all the lines (and Disney was crowded). We made it in to see the princesses and Mickey in no time. We rode roller coasters in minutes where others waited for hours to hop on. We even got a private ride on Kilamonjaro safari at Aminal Kingdom. It was amazing. The characters stopped in parades to hug Andrew and high five my kids. We kept feeling guilty for all the other kids, but then reminded ourselves of the year we had with the battle. This was a time to celebrate and allow others to join in that celebration. I think the few highlights were the Princesses that the girls got to meet, the private meeting and signing with Barney after his show, and Andrew's encounter with THE Buzz Lightyear and Woody. He just stood and stared at them. This experience at the parks was truly a magical experience...one we all will never forget.
  Give Kids the World was also almost as magical. Every volunteer was friendly, helpful, and excited to have us there. We had unlimited access to meals, ice cream, and basic supplies. Our family also got to do amazing things like ride a train, visit a castle, and ride horses all at the GKTW. There was also a pool that resembled a beach and water fountains coming up from the ground that Luke loved to run through by himself. The kids actually had a hard time not just staying at Give Kids because they provided so many fun things to do. This amazing place is run by about 30 staff members and over 1500 volunteers daily. They have thought of everything a family with kids would need (stools in the bathrooms, night lights, toys, little tables and chairs, and more.) Again, we just felt like we were living in a dream the entire week we stayed here.

  So, where are we now? Well, we are back in our sweet home together. We have more memories, more stuffed animals, more pictures, and more Mickey ears than ever before. The kids are constantly reenacting their experiences and talking constantly about their time together. We all cried when we had to say goodbye and wished we could stay forever. But like all dreams on earth, it had to come to an end. We had to come back to reality....loads of laundry, preparing meals, homework, grumpiness, and responsibility. Our family added another chapter to our journey story with Andrew. A chapter of joy, celebration, and fun. Make a Wish is truly the most amazing organization ever and we will be forever grateful for the wish we had together last week. We will continue to journey together, keeping our eyes on the One that provided the healing in Andrew's body and the ways we would rejoice together at Disney World. We are thankful beyond words for the "little piece of heaven" we experienced!