All Together

Our expanding family has bonded and made some very special memories since our first trip to Children's Hospital Boston on August 19th. Upon seeing the CT and MRI scans and learning of Zoe's brain tumor, we were all ushered to the neuroscience floor where we would spend the next three weeks. We were allowed to all live together in our hospital room which allowed us to grieve and pray and take care of each other and get to know Camden.

We had three weeks at home between then and the start of chemotherapy on October 5th, and that time was solidly packed with appointments for Zoe and getting ready to move out of our home and begin a transient lifestyle split between hospital and hostel.

In the last seven weeks, we have had virtually no time together alone as a family. We have not slept under the same roof or eaten a meal together at a table. Our most intimate moments have all been public. There's nothing like just getting settled in the hospital room bathroom only to hear the oncology team congregate around Zoe's bed right outside the door. Or to have the nurse walk in when you and your husband are trying to make the most of the ten minutes you'll have together all day.

Well, last night, the four of us made our way off of CHB Floor 9 and up to our Boston apartment. Zoe and Daddy enjoyed some pumpkin cheesecake (Thanks Paula!) while Mommy took a bath. All four of us shared the one bedroom. It was sweet and warm and peaceful to watch our babies sleep so contentedly. No monitors glowing or machines beeping. Just Zoe's face under her pink hat and favorite blankie on the twin mattress on the floor next to us, and Cam stretching out in the pack 'n play.

It's the early, dark hours when I enjoy quiet time alone. I have just successfully administered Zoe's medications via her gastronomy tube without waking her, which is a big plus as she's still traumatized by an unfortunate g-tube experience on Saturday with a doctor who forgot she was not under anesthesia, and enjoyed a bit of Heather's quiche. In about an hour, I'll wake up my family and accompany them across the street to MGH for Zoe's proton therapy. When she comes out of therapy but while she's still somewhat sedated, David and I will clean the g-tube site and turn the cap and check for any signs of infection. I may even try to clip her toenails, but I may be pushing my luck. After that, Zoe, Camden, Rachael, and I will acclimate to our new life in the apartment and perhaps visit the new playground along the Charles River, while David tries to address some matters for work.

I write all this hoping you can join me in a collective sigh. Thank you, Jesus, for getting us this far. Together. Still in love and with our sanity in tact. Father, thank you for preparing us for today. Thank you for the wisdom, endurance, patience, and willingness to meet the challenges of today. Thank you for the sea of people who have courageously and sacrificially walked with us, and who have held us up under enormous pressure. May we be people of your love, grace, and joy so that Zoe may know you, and so that you may be glorified. Amen.