Benign but not forgotten

On the 4th of July, we met my surgeon at his office bright and early to get my penrose drain (like a wet-noodle looking straw sticking out of my neck, puuurrty!) pulled.  I was terrified because I was already in so much pain, and the thought of him pulling it out was the last thing that sounded fun.

Matt prayed for me in the car, and I took a pain pill 30 minutes before like a good nurse-patient.  We were a few minutes early to meet the surgeon, so we were in the hallway of his office when he got off the elevator.  He just yelled down the hall to us: "BENIGN.  It was all benign!"

I didn't even register what he was saying.  I had zero expectation for the result to come back before Monday and had geared up for a long weekend wait.  The doctor was just as surprised that it was already back.

To everyone who prayed for my benign results and for a quick read, thank you!!! It would be easy to dismiss this all with "wow the lab worked quickly" or "I just knew it would be benign." but I am convinced that the result is 100% credited to God's hand in all of it as response to fervent prayer.

I could go on about the weekend, but I'm afraid I'm going to lose you, and the theme of what I want to say next is just way more important than the details of our weekend.

We had Gavin's little birthday party on Sunday (thank you Mauria for pretty much doing everything).  Once we got home last night, I texted my friend Lauren to say how insanely tired I felt.  I didn't even stay awake 5 minutes longer to get her reply.

Perfect little angel Hadley has been giving us the gift of sleep this week.  She has been sleeping 8 hours at night since my surgery.  This is some odd genetic attribute that my children have blessed me with, so don't think for a second I'm some sleep guru.  It is nothing I do, they just sleep through the night really early.  Sorry to all the moms who want to kick me right now.

When I woke up at 5:30 this morning before anyone else, I sat up and for the first time in days didn't have searing pain in my neck and jaw.  I was decently rested.  I felt oddly like "myself" who is actually a relative stranger after a long pregnancy and the past 2 months.

Que: CHATTER.

"You are feeling better.  You have so much to do.  You haven't done anything productive for days.  Actually weeks.  Actually months.  Actually a year.  You have some serious catching up to do.  Laundry, cleaning, bills, baby announcements, photos, thank you notes, busy busy busy busy busy."

And this time … because it wasn't instantly recognizable as fear or worry (in fact, it just sounded like me), I didn't spot it at first.  Sounds about right in my brain: a constant laundry list of all the things I need to accomplish to make me valued and satisfied.  All good things.  Things to help our family survive and thrive.  Things to bless others.  RIGHT?

I grabbed my phone as I always do to check the time.  I saw the reply text that Lauren had sent the night before.  It read, "New week, fresh new chapter.  You are probably going to be drained this week. Emotional drainage is harder than any marathon, and you just went through a triathlon my friend."

CRASH.  That metaphor hit straight in my heart.

In the past 2 months I've had a baby (which is enough in itself), been hospitalized with her thinking the worst, and had surgery and a cancer scare.  Triathlon.  The race course had several unforeseen uphills too including all the work of fattening up a tiny baby, thrush (nurses don't even roll your eyes, it's a BEAST, I had never experienced it and hope to never again), the pukes (Gavin), Matt moving to a new store,  our besties moving away, and more.

The chatterbox (Satan) would just want me to see all of those things as disturbances from what really matters in life according to him (clean house, happy kids, perfect little quiet balanced life).  Since his attempt to scare me with cancer didn't work to make me question my faith, the sneaky guy would subtly want me to get back to the enslaved grind of chasing that perfect life ASAP. It's actually what he does best.

Chatter.

I had never recognized it to the extent as I did this morning after reading Lauren's text.  Matt and I just finished a triathlon  We need to recover.  We also will never be the same.  I refuse to be.  My perspective on life, faith, God, motherhood, etc has been forever changed.

I had asked the doctor to write down the name of my tumor on a post-it so I wouldn't forget it because I was in such shock on Friday when he told me.  I took that post-it and stuck in on the fridge.

Matt and I have been talking about how whenever we get into a fight, we need to just say: "Remember when we thought you had cancer?"  Nothing to put you in proper perspective than remembering the day you stared down that fear.

I'm hoping that the post-it note doesn't start to just blend in to the happy photos scattering our fridge.  My prayer is that it hits me in the gut every single time I see it.

"Benign mixed tumor.  Pleomorphic adenoma."

Aka: You get your life back.

Sort of.

I actually don't wan't that old life back.  I don't want to be more concerned with the status of my laundry room than with how long I get to be here to watch my kids grow up.

God has been speaking to me all day long about this topic, and I could share forever, but I will save it for another day.  His very quiet whisper is still much harder to hear than the constant chatter that is so familiar reminding me of all of the things I should be doing.

Right now, the physical pain as well as my super cute neck bling are a constant reminder of where my priorities should lie.  I HATE "selflies" (epitome of "look at me, look at me, I'm so awesome") but here is a rare one from me.  Bandage selfie.   It's the new rage.

Once this eventually stops throbbing (much better today but still not fun) and the incision fades, I will be tempted to brush off this experience.  I am truly hoping that post-it keeps me grounded.

Benign but not forgotten.

This may sound completely crazy, but I have been thinking about it a lot, and I think I am actually just really grateful for this whole thing.  I would not have wanted to live one more day trapped in the bondage of the daily life habitual chatter-imposed pressures I was imprisoning myself in.

I plan to turn to the story of Mary and Martha in the bible this week and read it with new eyes.  I've always been really annoyed by that story.  I think I may finally be able to read it with some better understanding.

I used to think that I lived life not dependent on circumstance to make me content, but I actually had no idea what that really meant.

We sang this worship song at church on Sunday, and it was so amazing that I have to share the words.  It's not nearly as soul-piercing without the music (the language of the soul), but the lyrics still really speak so much.

"When the sea is calm and all is right. When I feel Your favor flood my life.  

Even in the good, I'll follow You. Even in the good, I'll follow You

When the boat is tossed upon the waves. When I wonder if You'll keep me safe

I believe everything that You say You are

I believe that I have seen Your unchanging heart

In the good things and in the hardest part

I believe and I will follow You. 
I believe and I will follow You

When I see the wicked prospering. When I feel I have no voice to sing

Even in the want, I'll follow You. Even in the want, I'll follow You

When I find myself so far from home. And You lead me somewhere, that I don't wanna go

Even in my death, I'll follow You. Even in my death, I'll follow You

When I come to end this race I've run. And I receive the prize that Christ has won

I will be with You in Paradise. I will be with You in Paradise!" 


I hope that you can take even one ounce of perspective from what I've been learning and be blessed by it.  One last repetitive thank you to everyone who is making life do-able right now while I am still healing and recovering.  We love you and could not do life without you.

Here are some quick phone kid pics as your reward for actually reading to the bottom of this.  I'm not blessed with the gift of succinct-ness.

Blessings on your week.  ~ Jessica