6 month cycles

On November 27, 2017 by Michelle Love

Two years since this photo was taken….so hard to believe.

Thanksgiving Day, 2015

The hardest time of the year for me is September through March, then I spend the next 6 months recovering, just to go back into the same cycle. So many especially ‘crapaversaries’ (as another angel-mom friend puts it) happen during these 6 months. BJ’s initial diagnosis, some real medical scares, everything that happened to him at Duke, coming back home to LCH to be met with “there’s nothing else we can do”, 90 days straight inpatient, some serious medical and emotional roller coaster rides, his final Thanksgiving in the hospital, his final Christmas in the hospital, coming home on Hospice, celebrating his last birthday with him, having my last hug from him, rushing him to the hospital for the last time, watching him decline, hearing his voice for the last time, watching him give one last fight of the CPAP and die right there, hearing his last heartbeat on the monitor in Room 19, walking out of that hospital for the final time – without him, coming home to his room with all his things and never see him in it again, writing his obituary, planning his funeral, creating his photo slide show, speaking at his funeral, watching as his teammates and best friend carried his casket to his grave, watching the Navy SEALs pound a trident into his casket, and walking away from the place where my boy was lowered into the ground.

In the midst of all of that, just during those 6 months, I still see blessings. People. God working through people to show us he’s near. People who brought us meals and helped us in so many other ways. Wonderful friends who are there whenever I need them and also there when I think I don’t. Ride-or-die friends – one of my steel magnolias, who is always there and checks on me almost every day on her drive home. A friend who I call sister, who put her life on hold to be with us and care for Carly while we were at Duke, drive the 2-hour trip to get Carly from the hospital and take her to school every morning, be the Mom2 Carly needed, and countless other things, most that I can’t even remember….she’s really the other half of my brain. Strangers and friends who send notes and messages at just the right time. People who aren’t afraid to hug me, or mention BJ’s name…because really, a hug makes a world of hurt just a little bit better, and hearing his name makes me so happy, even if I may shed a tear or two…I do that anyway. A community that has helped hold up all of us. A neighborhood that shows their off gold bows all year long. Neighbors who have become friends who watch out for us, mow the yard, and take care of our puppies. Students who lift us up and show their love. Special staff and teachers that have rallied around Carly to make sure she has the love and support she needs at school. There are countless blessings in the midst of hell. A hell that we continue to try to push through, to navigate as best we can. The after effects of everything we’ve been through is a form of PTSD. PTSD of childhood cancer and child loss. After all, it was a war and we fought hard – and for a very long time. That tour of duty lasted 3 1/2 years, and so much was lost on that battlefield. We didn’t go through training to prepare for it. We were thrown onto the battlefield, and quickly realized it was fight or die. So….if you see me during these days and I don’t act how you think I should, if I seem distant, have tears in my eyes, or if I quickly escape the crowd, it’s not you, it’s me. But really, it’s not me either…it’s not who I want to be. I didn’t choose this life, but I was chosen for this life. I would do it all again, just to be his mom.

#BJStrong