It has been a "touchy" few weeks.  It all started back in October when I went to my "yearly Dr. apt."  I had been complaining about severe pain during my time of the month.  So, the typical thing happens and you listen to all the "maybes" and "could bes" and take one step at a time. 

On a hunch, my Dr. ordered an ultra sound.  That was way more "involved" than I had anticipated, but if this would answer questions, I guess I do it.

A few days later I played phone tag with the nurse.  And it wasn't till much later while on my way to watch my niece when I finally made contact.  (Note to self: NEVER call for test results while driving)  The nurse proceeded to inform me that there was a large mass in my uterus.  And that it was unlikely but there was a small chance of cancer.  They had ordered for a CT scan and wanted me to report that afternoon for more blood tests.  I hung up the phone with a huge question mark hanging over my head!  Cancer?!?!? 

I drove home later that day with my rear view mirror pointing at Daylen.  I am not ashamed to admit that I cried.....HARD and had a very long conversation with God.  My one prayer....., "Dear Lord Don't take me from them! (Daylen and Brian) Dear Lord Don't take me from them!  Dear Lord Don't take me from them!  Over and over. 

Later that night, after Daylen was asleep and the house was tucked away for the night, I laid my head on Brian's chest and cried again.  He said nothing....just held me, and that was all I wanted.  Questions filled my head, IF it is cancer, how far along, can it be treated, what will it mean for Daylen, what will it mean for Brian, do we go for second opinion, do we go for third opinion, will I be able to be a wife and a mother...somewhere in the mix of questions I fell asleep. 

I reported to the CT scan the next week,  with about as much concern and even more questions.  And the worse thing I can say about that scan was that I had to drink this amazingly horrible liquid. 

It wasn't until the next week when I finally got those results.....a tumor.  A very large tumor that made it's home so close to my left ovary it has attached itself to it.  So, this meant surgery.  It had to be removed if it was or if it was NOT cancer. 

This brought about a whole other range of worries.  Pain, will I wake up after, will I wake up during, (let me pause here and remind you that I am an avid Grey's Anatomy watcher....not a good combo) I replayed episodes in my mind of everything that went wrong...even the WAY crazy ones when the gun man broke into the hospital to seak revenge on the Dr. that he believed killed his wife. 

Before long it was Nov. 15 and it was the day of surgery.  And by the Grace of God, I went into that hospital with great Peace in my heart.  When the surgical nurse came to get me I was pleasantly surprised that I recognized her face.  She was a member at the YMCA while I worked there and we passed pleasantries daily.  The next nurse...the same. The next nurse....a friend of a friend.  My worries and fears fell further away. 

I was awaken two hours later by gentle touches and soft words of a nurse.  And the first thing that was spoken to me was, "The tumor was NOT cancer." 

Once I was awake enough to understand, and when Brian was once again by my side, I was told that I had an ovarian tumor that was the size of a football.....A FOOTBALL!   I was seriously hoping that it was going to count for about 50 pounds of my body weight...but I have yet to find that out!

Today as I sit on the couch and allow my four inch incision to heal I smile at the worries that I allowed to cloud my mind, I praise God for guiding the Dr.'s hands and his thoughts to schedule that initial ultra sound, I laugh at the comfort of familiar faces of nurses, and the answer to prayer, "God dont' take me from them!"  

I abobt it, Momma

My all time favorite store is Hobby Lobby.  I could, and have, spent hours just walking around that place.  So, now it has become one of Daylen's most comfortable stores....meaning....he knows what I expect of him when we walk into the building.  And he is very obedient.  He knows not to touch, to stay close to me, to ask before he looks at something, when Mom says "STOP" he freezes, and if he is REALLY REALLY good, he might get to pick a toy out of the $1 bin. 

The last time we were there he did exactly what was asked of him.  So, like promised, he got to pick a toy out.  Today's choice was a chunky, little, red and blue dump truck.  He held it close to his chest as I paid for our purchases and we walked out to the car. 

I strapped him into his seat and began emptying the cart when I heard him whimpering softly.  After I got everything tucked away, I opened his door to check what the issue was. 

I quickly noticed that he was playing with his dump truck.  I asked him what was wrong.  With his eyes squinted and the corners of his mouth forced downward he said, "bump tuck sad."

"Why is the dump truck sad"

"Hims house." As his chubby little finger pointed to the Hobby Lobby building.

"Does the dump truck miss his house?"

"Ye'th"

"Do we need to take the dump truck back to his house?"

A couple seconds of silence

"No Momma, I Yuv him, I abobpt him" As he pulls the little truck into his chest and hugs it to himself.

"Oh, You will adopt him and take care of him?" Said through choked back tears and cracking voice.

"Ye-th" with a wide bright smile.

I climbed into my seat and pulled out the box of Kleenex's from the glove compartment.  So, much joy was busting within me at that moment!  For three years we have told him, he is loved, we adopted him because we loved him, we loved him from the match call, we love him, he is adopted and he is loved, he is loved, he is loved, he is loved...And at that very moment by him saying, "I Yuv him, I abobpt him"  he told me that it is all sinking in. ................even if it is through a $1 bump tuck!