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Life as a hospital mom is not a life for just anyone. You have no other choice, there is no get-out-free card you can just put down and say, “Nope, Lord, I do not want this, take it back.”

My heart hurts 99 percent of the time. My heart hurts for my child and the pain he is suffering. A necessary evil to keep him on the side of Heaven’s gates. 

My heart hurts from the unknown of each day. Will he eat? Will he thrive today? What utter chaos will be thrown our way today? Will there be vomit today? (Probably, it’s chemo week). 

My heart hurts for the child next door and the poor mom and/or dad. The child yelling at the top of his lungs, “STOP!! IT HURTS!!” My heart hurts for the child on the other side of us who’s quiet. As bothersome as the screamer on the other side is, he’s not that bad if he’s screaming. Quiet, unbothersome rooms are the ones where the child is doing everything they can to hold on for dear life at times. Those are unpleasant thoughts, raw emotions, and fear. Fear that your child will be in the same shoes.

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My heart hurts for our favorite cleaner, Willy. It was the one time of the day that was predictable. Not in a sense of he would be here every day at this time on the dot. No, the normalcy of the gossip he would bring, the hand farts (both of my boys’ favorite things he would do). The chatterbox that Willy wassinging, telling old stories from back in the day. Threatening the kids, “Willys going to take you home to his basement.” Willy has recently decided to retire. That was before he had some medical issues. Now he’s just gone. My favorite part of the day . . . just gone. 

My heart hurts when I see people leave. It’s not us. My heart hurt when people join us. “Welcome to 6Link!” Insert happy face here.

Yes, welcome, welcome to the hardest days of our lives. The pure emotion, the intensity of it all. Learning all of these nonsense things that he should not, no, nope! Why are we here?

My heart hurts for this situation we are facing. Cancer. My child has cancer. My heart hurts for not being able to take away his pain. There’s not a thing in this world I wouldn’t give to trade places with him. I can do nothing but hold him, kiss him, love him with everything I have and everything I don’t. 

My heart hurts for my unsick child who I’ve had to leave in the care of others. Although I feel so much happiness for those relationships, my heart hurts for missed family time we should be having together. 

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My heart hurts for my marriage and how it’s suffering. I’ve never wanted to leave, never imagined the day I’d want that. I do now. My partner in life hasn’t been able to step up to the plate. I blame him needing to work and the fact that if a problem isn’t hitting you smack in the face, it’s oftentimes easier to forget and become numb to the situation. The lack of my needs being met is becoming overwhelming, mentally, emotionally, and physically painful and unbearable. 

My heart hurts from what I thought life should be. It’s not what I pictured. No one pictures themselves as a hospital mom. 

“I admit that so often I have held tightly to my own plans and to the outcomes I think should come to pass. But I know the story You’re writing for me is so much better than any story I could ever write for myself. Help me cling to this truth when my circumstances are uncertain and unpredictable. I declare my trust in You above it all.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.” From It’s Not Supposed To Be This Way by Lysa TerKeurst

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So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Sydney MacKenzie

My baby was diagnosed with leukemia at 10 months old. Trying to figure out hospital life with a purpose. I'm sending along my blab. I know it doesn't sound right, but I think I'm onto something. There isn't support that is deep and real about being a cancer mom. Yet alone a boy mom of two and two stepsons while trying to figure out how a cancer marriage works.

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