time to hibernate again

Tomorrow I have treatment again (Hello Havalen!) and today was the first morning I could contemplate moving myself out of bed and into the day before 10am. Oh me oh my. This does sound like the life doesn't it. I can't imagine a mamma of little ones anywhere in all the world who would not cherish such a sleep in. Tho, I myself feel thoroughly sick of them.

Tomorrow Huz will drop you boys off to all your places. School, childcare, and then the two of us will go somewhere sweet for breakfast. How I love going out for breakfast. And the best part is that since as my chemo isn't until 2.40pm we have all morning together with me feeling the best I've felt all week - so watch out Adelaide, here we come.

Last week we landed upon a cute french patisserie and shared some crepes while the sweetest old lady and her daughter told us how handsome Huz was and how I should be wearing a wedding ring (if indeed the ludicrous story I told them of being married to this fine man could even possibly be true) and neither I nor Huz could bring ourselves to tell them the 'why' of no wedding ring on this 'larger than normal' ring finger of mine due to steroid taking/chemo induced torture.

My Huz is crazy handsome. It's not just the old ladies who dig it.

And so I'm looking forward to tomorrow morning. It's a lot of pressure on a day tho, this concept of doing a whole weeks worth of living in the space of 24 hours. And ok, although not strictly true (after all, I did have an alright day today) the chemo cloud is hanging low and foggy even as I type.

My dearest littles, I am so blessed to have extraordinary friends. I hurt over my friends hearts who will be broken when I fly away. The friends who have delved into understanding me, loving me by wanting to know the highs and lows of this season, giving no regard for themselves in the near future when I fly away.

This takes a strength in loving so big and wide and high and deep. Some of my closest few also know Jesus. We love to talk about Him and how on earth He makes all this crazy business well with my soul. Because how impossible does that sound? How hard this will be on you my littles. To hear your mama say it is well with her soul that she flies away when you are so very young, so very in need of me still for years and years piling upon years to come.

But it's not that I long to part with you. How could I ever. Those sweet cheeks, dirty boy fingers, rounded bellies and short legs with all the knees I love the most bruised, cuts all around, bandaids hanging off half the time. 

'choc&chat' with True

I have memorised your faces, my loves, tracing outlines as I tuck you into bed. Tonight True you declared loudly that 'I can't find the teddy that mummy gave me when she thought she was dying last year but then didn't.' 

oh. well, why didn't you just say. 

Way to bring me into my reality True. And yet you hunted on, tucking Ikky your teddy into bed with you and moving on in the bedtime conversation with your brothers.

Yes. When i thought I was dying last year and then I didn't. It's true True. 

And all those months from then until now have been bonus, and yet I'm so greedy, and it can't be time for me to hibernate again under this next chemo surely.

I'm greedy, starving, desperate for time time time with you boys. For you to be older so you and I can be the 'us' we will be in those days, added on top of these beautiful days with you so very young. I am greedy for days upon days for you to know and be loved by me in all the ways I imagine.

Will you boys imagine how it could have been if I didn't fly away too soon? Will it be well with your souls, your hearts that are still growing and navigating this tough world? I pray it will be. I pray a lot into your futures. That grace would meet you when I can't. That Jesus would be a very present help in times of trouble. He has been loving me super big even (maybe more even if this could be right) in this bossy cancer.

And Miss E reminds me often of Jesus' big love, and how cancer doesn't get to be as bossy as Him. There will be a day when every single knee bows at the name of Jesus. Even the name of cancer will bow on one knee and throw his gritty grubby hands in the air in surrender. It will be over. No more disease or sickness. And our sweet Jesus will make it all all right for good.

I mull it over. In and out of nauseated delirium, I mull it over. 

And again I'm so glad to have a hope which is an anchor for my soul.

some down time at Nana's with the iPad