If I were honest...

I'd say up until last Wednesday, my lack of blogging was pure and total laziness.  Nothing more.  I wasn't up for doing any extra computer time when I got home.  Owen was going through some fun stages...and I just wasn't feeling it.  Now...the lack of blogging is all together different.  Since last Wednesday I debated blogging about this. It's not something I really want to blog about b/c it's not fun. It's also impossible to continue blogging as if it weren't affecting every minute of our day since then.  But if I'm being honest...it's life. Real. Hard. Staring us straight in the face.  And sharing it here is sharing life for real.  Not just the cute pictures of our little blessing or the fun weekend plans we had.  It's the dirt under our finger nails, the cracks in our plaster and the reality of this thing we call life.


There aren't tons and tons of moments in my life that at the moment they happen, I realize I'm going to never ever forget what it feels like...right at that very moment. Sure...there are moments. My first kiss. The first time I looked at Jer after the pastor said...I now pronounce you...Husband and wife. The first time I held Owen. Most of them are good. Some are not. And last Wednesday...unfortunately I had one of those moments I know I'll never forget...but it wasn't the good kind.

Jeremy's Dad Mike has been through a lot. He beat cancer when we were 17 years old. Ten years ago he had surgery to remove a mass on his brain. Through surgery, radiation and chemo therapy he was able to overcome his battle. But last Wednesday...we found out that he will once again resume the battle. He has another mass on his brain. In a similar location but more difficult area, similar size and more aggressive. The moment I won't forget is hearing the head of neurosurgery stare at the black and white images of my father-in-law's brain on a screen. Using a mouse to drag lines over the entire mass...which is the size of a baseball. Hearing him say...the words large mass. More aggressive. Dangerous procedure. Mike asked if the fight was worth it. Wanting to know what his chances were. My heart broke into a million pieces. This strong, very independent head of the family we all love was facing his mortality. We all were. And in that moment the world kind of stopped spinning.

Luckily enough, the surgery though risky, was an option and Monday he conquered the first in many fights of his battle.  8 hours later they were able to remove a significan part of the tumor.  The doctor was even able to begin chemo immediately by placing these discs called chemo wafers on the remaining tumor.  It's instant and immediate cancer fighters doing their job on Mike's mass.  It's comforting knowing that he's barely awake, but he has something inside of him working to shrink his cancer already.

There is little left to say, but to simply ask, if you read this and you are the praying type...please add one in there for Mike.  He's strong, onry and will fight like crazy...but I'm sure a little nudge from the big guy upstairs would help us all.

Dad we love you.