17 February 2011

Where I Am

The past week has been rough. I've been living in a fog and not really caring much about anything. I've written several blog posts that are very raw and revealing, but none of them were well written, so none of them have been posted. I've prayed a lot. I've read the word. I've worshiped. I've cried more than anything. I've had days during which I ate almost nothing and days where I made very poor food choices. I've exercised little. I've spent too much time thinking. I've talked on the phone with my Dad...Mom...sister...friends. I've chatted on-line with a few friends. I've done only the things I have most needed to do. The kids were fed. Baby Z was cared for. School was taught, though not very efficiently. Laundry was washed.

My mom went for surgery last Wednesday. The surgeon intended to do a total hysterectomy and to remove some lymph nodes from her abdomen. 90 minutes into what was supposed to be a 3.5 hour surgery, the doctor came to see Dad and me. They didn't do the hysterectomy. Mom's cancer had spread throughout her abdomen. Stage 4. Aggressive. Chemotherapy. All words I didn't want to hear.

The prognosis isn't good. I've had a few people tell me that 2-3 years is better than the 2 months she would have if she refused chemo, and I don't disagree. But 2 years? That's not enough, and it makes my heart ache.

Don't get me wrong. I believe in an all-powerful God who could choose to heal her, and, while I believe that He can, I have to be prepared to accept that her total healing may not happen this side of heaven, and that is a thought that makes my mind race...makes my eyes well up...makes me angry...and sad...and so many other things.

My mama has stage 4 inoperable cancer.

Today I decided to get out of the house. Did I really, really want to? Nope. I have to force myself to do anything right now, so I began my day by telling my children that, after school was complete and Baby Z had her first nap, we would be going for a walk. It's the best thing I could have done. Otherwise, I would have stayed home and missed this beautiful weather and the exercise. It is a rare 60ish degree day, and I'm so glad I made myself go. I feel better, like I did something right today, like I did something normal because so little feels normal right now.

I know I can't go on like this forever. I know I have to take care of myself so that I can take care of my family and even Mom. But I am grieving so much right now. I feel so much guilt over this. I really do. It's like I don't trust God enough to do the right thing, or that I don't believe that the possibility of God taking her could ever be the right thing. What my heart feels and my head believes are not the same thing right now. I'll get there. I'm sure I will. God will see me through this. He has already carried me through so much. But this? It's bigger.

I'm praying for a miracle. I'm praying that Mom responds well to the chemo. I'm praying for healing for her body, mind and soul. Join me? And, if you don't mind, pray for the rest of us. Dad, sister, children, husband, brother-in-law, aunts, uncles, niece and nephews. So many people love my mom. We're all hurting right now and trying to sort this out.

I never saw this coming. I never imagined what this would feel like. I never saw myself wearing these shoes.


  1. Oh Kendra. I'm so sorry. I've not been in your shoes, so I can't totally understand the hurt and fear, but I can pray for you. And I will.

  2. Thank you so much. I really appreciate your prayers!

  3. Please believe me when I tell you I have thought of you daily since last week. My heart aches for you and Cassie... and your Mom & Dad... and the husbands and all the grandkids. I shared your request with a group at church and we are all praying for you. I wish I could take away your pain or help in some way but there is nothing. I pray for you a lot. Just want you to know that you are not walking alone.