His First Blood Transfusion

I really didn't realise how run down he was getting. Nothing serious, just cranky and slower with the smiles. Walking in after his transfusion was like being greated by a pack of puppies. Bouncing, laughing puppies. He just shone with energy and happiness, as though he could consciencely feel and be thankful for the difference.

...And He's Still a Happy Little Clown

It continues to amaze me that he is our source of comfort through this. One little smile, wiggle or bounce and all the anxiety melts away, even if only for a few moments. What a precious gift he is.

We got a date last night! Grandma & Grandpa spelled us. We gratefully used a gift card for Kelsey's and had a nice dinner. Too bad we were so exhausted that it was lights out at 9 pm, lol! We're hoping to do this once a week.

Little Things

A baby’s hands are the portal to complete utopia. They are so pale, so incredibly soft, and so busily charted with chubby creases and barely-there finger prints. To think of all that those hands will touch, discover and create... it’s both exciting and humbling. I can’t decide whose hands he has, yet. Both his parents are tangible people who enjoy seeing grand results from a little sweat, blood and marital stress. We were quite proud this summer when the “deck project” didn’t turn out to be the “divorce project”.

It’s difficult to maintain the feel of our connection through this. We both know it’s still present, there’s just no question. But this involuntary living as suddenly single while we rotate shifts is putting some kind of block on tapping into that fantastic feeling. It’s almost as though without the daily emotional and physical reinforcement, the inner line of electricity buzzing between us is losing definition, getting a little fuzzy. It became like breathing to us, this back & forth flow and I know we’ll not take it for granted again.

I'm bringing the camera with me today!

A couple of shots of his last days at home, before starting treatment. Tonight I hope to have some current ones!

Sweet Memories Serve Me Well Now

I’m getting cabin fever.

The brisk wind hits my face as I step outside the hospital doors, eager to stretch my legs and breathe new air during one of his frequent naps. I’ve ridden in this wind before, many times. I flex my fingers, feeling the reins, fragrant and warmed by my hands. Nothing on this planet smells better than leather and horse. I can feel the tip of my nose getting rosy and numb, hear the creak of my saddle and almost see the autumn colours, nearly smell the acrid leaves. I’m wearing light layers; easy to ride in and still feel agile. I can see my horse’s coat, fluffed up fuzzy from the season change. It’s like petting the softest velvet. My horse is fresh off the cool temps and my own excitement, offering yet another dynamic to the outing. It’s got to be one of the best ways to feel strong and alive, like you’re absorbing every element nature is offering for your inner fortification. The mechanical whine of the automatic doors jar me back to reality when I step on the sensor pad. I always got back to the barn feeling on top of the world, like nothing could touch me. I tried to hang on to that feeling for the rest of the day.

We haven’t really had a summer here, this year. A few days here and there of seasonal temps, but everything else “record lows”. It’s laughable, really. I wanted to be pregnant over the winter to avoid bearing a monstrous girth in oppressive heat. Now I feel like “at least I’m not wasting glorious summer days locked up inside total and utter climate control”.

Kaleb was quiet and restful all day. I think the “red” chemo takes a big enough hit out of him to require a day to recover. Of the three types he gets on a cycle, the red gets administered every other day. The other two are given daily. His food intake has been steadily decreasing. We tried an experiment and he went up drastically today. It would seem our little one was in fact nauseous from all the drugs. Older kids often report this side effect, but obviously the youngest ones can’t articulate. An anti-nausea rediscovered his appetite and reduced some of his fussing, thankfully. It’s also a slight sedative, which gives him more healing time during naps.

All-in-all, he continues to respond well.

Day 3 and He Bounces Back a Tad

Kaleb had much more energy yesterday. Still, he'd go hard for 20 mins and crash like nothing I've ever seen. On the plus side, I can see his development still evolving. He's moved from startled by noises to wanting to raise the roof with his own version of music! Yikes!

The chemo is having the effect doctors expected, so we know we're on the right track. We were quite excited to see his shoulder lump had decreased in size by almost 1/4, but soon realised this is not exactly super natural healing, lol. We're hugely relieved that the leukemia is responding, as the alternative would be impossible to process.

It's funny, I thought Patrick and I would be brawling for the opportunity to sleep at home and it turns out that we just may be dukin' it out for the shift away during the day! Even on sketchy hospital sleep, we each get so much done during the day! And you wouldn't believe how being productive in even normal things makes you feel so good when the flip side is sitting useless, bedside while your little baby does all the work by himself. But a few consecutive nights does wear one down and soon enough we have to switch. We've got a good system going.