There's Always A Moment.

Despite how talented I am with my words, I could never make you understand but it's not in my nature to not try.

     I know what it feels like...because there's always a moment. A moment when it all changes. You might have been driving alone at night down a deserted road. Maybe you weren't alone at all. You could have been at a crowded event when the shift occurred. No matter where it happens, without fail, there is always a moment. My moment started July 2013.

      I know what it feels like to have the air sucked from the room. I remember the call I answered from my mom while sitting on the couch in my townhouse. I remembered the fear in her voice, the panic as she spit out a possible diagnosis, and how unprepared I was for that moment. The call changed, not just my life, but the lives of every single person I cared about.

     Hearing my nephew, at age two, had a tumor the size of a softball on his kidney changed it all. The same two year old that I fell in love with when I saw him for the first time that January day in 2011. It was unreal. Time seemed to stand still in that moment. It was like watching dominoes in slow motion. Surgery followed the initial ultrasound, scans, blood work, the official cancer diagnosis, port placement, the radiation and chemo...it was a cluster of emotions. Teams of doctors and nurses in and out. Kristina taking leave from work. Wearing gloves to change his diapers. Hospital visits when Tanners immune system was compromised by the aggressive treatments...the list goes on. It turned our worlds upside down over and over. A roller coaster of hope at its best and immense pain you could do nothing to change at its worst.

     Looking back, it's hard to conceive the amount of heartache and uncertainty Tanner and my family battled. I clearly remember watching my sister in law pick Tanner up out of the hospital bed after surgery. She was putting him in his little red wagon at the hospital to wheel him and his monitors to the play room down the hall. Tanner cried out, "It hurts, mommy!" and in that moment I didn't have to blink for the tears to fall. After Tanner was able to walk around again, we all took turns walking him up and down the halls. It's an image tattooed in my mind of nothing but a diaper, socks, and a monitor with a several wires attached to Tanner as he and I walked up the hall one night.

     The strength of my sister in law, brother, and Tanner amazes me, still. It was nothing short of a fight while Tanner blazed through the months following his diagnosis. Surgeries, chemo and radiation took more than Tanners tumor, cancer, kidney, and curly brown hair away during those months. 

     There are very few remnants of the family and individuals we all were before July 2013. Those moments and each trial that followed did not make us bitter but instead made our family realize how blessed we truly are. With that being said, it does not take away the pain, tears, prayers, or the moments we spent on our knees begging God for mercy. In the acknowledgement of our blessings, with time, faith, appreciation, thankfulness, love, and strength grew.

I get emotional when Kristina posts updates on Tanner's amazing progress and regarding this anniversary. It floods my mind and heart with emotions still so close to the surface that I cried while typing this blog tonight. This month, just two years ago, made such an impact on my family. So much that I felt the need to express how much one phone call, one situation, or one person can change every moment that follows. How you handle what follows, no matter how amazing or terrible, is what matters.

Life is too short to hold back and not give it all. Tanner has been a shining light in our lives and I am so proud of him. My family is blessed. For that, I'm happy and extremely thankful.

 

Nise.