Phase 2

Zoe went to surgery at 745 this morning. The docs gave her an anti-anxiety at 7am to keep her calm. It helped during the long stretcher ride to the pre-op area, and for the inevitable wait before they sedate her. My mind is racing in a million different directions as I sit here in the packed surgery waiting area. Nervous family members of other patients all around me. It's not exactly a stable environment, especially when you're trying to get a grip on your own anxiety. I try not to look at other people in the eye, I don't want to feed off of their fear, and vice versa. Honestly, this surgery isn't any less scary to me than the first surgery. Doctors have a wonderful way of being brutally honest with you about all the risks involved, and giving you their opinion of what they feel is in store for Zoe in her future...whether we want to hear it or not. Of course I don't want to hear it, but I do need to hear it. I'm still working on not letting it tear down the wall of hope and trust that I have so precariously built around myself. I break down, then I get back up and keep moving forward with my rickety thin wall back in place, hoping that day by day it will get less rickety until it can take the blows without crumbling.

It takes more effort right now to stay positive than it would take to just let my fears take over. I know this. I'm choosing to be positive and hopeful because I know that is the only thing I have control over at this point, and I know that it is the only thing that will get us through this. Chordoma is bigger than Zoe, and everyone else in the world that has it. I feel a responsibility to her, to all that have it, and who will be diagnosed with it to keep myself together. To stay strong, to educate myself, and to fight this disease. I don't really know what that looks like or will look like in the future, but it will be a big part of my future. I sit and find myself in a space where I ask myself why my daughter? Why her? The answer is that everything happens for a reason. It's what we do with it. It's my responsibility to do everything I can to get her through this and to do something positive with it. That is doing right by Zoe. I've always questioned whether or not I'm the best mother I can be, and now I am proving to myself beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am. My promise to Zoe is that I will stand by her side through all of this, fight for her, advocate for her, love her, and do whatever I can for others like her. If this is my purpose on this earth than I gladly accept. I'm resolved. Heartbroken, but resolved.

On a lighter note...last night was chaotic, but wonderful in it's own simple way. In between the late night ct scan and blood draw, Henry and I got to have a few hours of silly time with Zoe that felt like home. Fart jokes, daddy tickling mommy, mommy pretending to be grumpy, mommy tickling Zoe, Zoe giggling her cute little giggle in between bites of ramen, reading Harry Potter to her while she half snoozes, and cuddle time. It's not easy snuggling up to the halo, but I do my best to make it work. It just felt good, and those little moments mean so much.

The soundtrack to my day always begins with Van Morrison,
A Brand New Day-
When all the dark clouds roll away
And the sun begins to shine
I see my freedom from across the way
And it comes in right in on time
Well it shines so bright and it gives so much light
And it comes from the sky above
Make me feel so free
Make me feel like me
And it light my life with love
And it seems like
And it feels like
And it seems like
Yes it feels like
A brand new day
A brand new day

Helps to keep me in the present...at least for the first 5 minutes of my day....

Colleen