Family,  Life,  Motherhood

The UNIMAGINABLE…Part 3

un·im·ag·i·na·ble
/ˌənəˈmaj(ə)nəb(ə)l/
adjective 

1. difficult or impossible to imagine or comprehend.

Her face is one of many, that I will never forget, and the words she spoke, were just as unforgettable…

As I held my sleeping baby tight in my arms, while image after image, was being taken of her little belly and my left hand interlocked with Josh’s. I just laid there and let the tears roll down my cheeks, each one landing on Brenley’s beautiful hair. She loved her hair; I loved her hair.

As our song, came to an end it was as if I regained my thoughts. That was the first and only time in my life, where all my thoughts were absent. I was completely in the moment, and it’s the one moment no one ever imagines they’d be in.

When the ultrasound finally came to an end, and the tech showed us the way to our room. With an eerie tone in her voice, she looked directly into my eyes and said…”Good luck.”. That very moment has replayed in my mind, over and over again. The look on her face said all I needed to know. It was time for my head to accept, what my gut had been telling me. Every time that moment replays in my mind, I see her face. That stranger, a woman we had never met before, knew what we didn’t yet know…

Lastly, we headed in for a CT scan. The final scan before knowing the answers, we were so desperately seeking. As I placed my exhausted baby girl on the CT table, her little face looking so defeated and there was absolutely nothing I could do but hold her little hand. I just remember putting on a brave face every time her eyes locked with mine, repeatedly whispering…”I love you to the moon and back baby girl!”.

When we got back in ER room 7, we had nothing left to do, but wait. The lights were dimmed as I laid on the bed with Brenley asleep in my arms and Josh right by our side. Although, we mostly sat in silence, trying to figure out our own thoughts. Josh turned to me and said “What is your biggest fear?”, my response was simple…”The same as yours…”.
Minutes later, the motion of the door turned on the lights, and in walked a ER resident.

We did not know her, and she did not introduce herself. To be honest, her face appeared as if she was crying, or at least on the verge too. When Josh and I made eye contact with her, we then looked at each other, taking yet another deep breath, almost simultaneously. What happened next, was just as terrifying as it’s going to sound. The resident made her way over to our bedside, and spoke these exact words, “It’s cancer, I’m sorry.”…

At that moment, my entire body went numb. In fact, that exact same feeling coming over me, as I write this. Still to this day, the emotions rush over me from time to time. Yet, it’s still just as impossible to put into words now, as it was then. Thankfully during this very poor delivery of such a diagnosis, Brenley missed it, peacefully asleep in my arms. As Josh and I broke into pieces, she then said, “Feel free to call whomever you may need, I will give you some time.”.
It felt as if we were being given a timeline, to our daughter’s life, from a person we didn’t even know. As if we had only days left with our baby.

With my thoughts all over the place, just trying to remember to breath, I demanded answers. I wanted a doctor with real answers, not tomorrow, NOW! At this time, it was about 5:00 am, as we managed to call our family and deliver news that our daughter had cancer, with no other answers to give. Moments later walked in a woman with a computer. This woman was about to become our person.

She very calmly sat at the end of our bed, as she shook our hands and introduced herself, “Hello, I am Dr. Danielle Bell, I’m a 3rd year fellow with Hematology/Oncology unit. Please know we are going to take great care of your daughter!”. Then she proceeded to further, in detail, explain what I was feeling in Brenley’s abdomen, causing her extreme pain. After listening and trying to take it all in, I asked to see it; the CT scan of the tumor. As she turned around her computer, I could hardly believe my eyes. It almost engulfed her abdomen entirely. The tumor on her left kidney was the size of a coconut. The images were unbelievable, how could something this large, be growing in such a tiny body, and for how long had it been there?

We spent the next hour, going over everything our exhausted minds could think of. This is where another new journey would begin, in ER room 7. With Josh, Brenley, myself and a woman, I am so grateful for.
It’s the moment life was put in complete perspective.
The moment I never imagined I’d be in.
A journey I never imagined I’d know.
The life I never imagined my child to live.
& a journey I never imagined I’d be thankful for.