Well, I suppose it was bound to happen.  But yesterday was a hard day for both Luke and me.  I had no idea how much I pinned my hopes on his good days.  I'm not going to lie, it was hard to see that change.  What's scary is that considering his circumstances, it was still a really good day!

I got there around 10:00 am, after I got the older kids to school.  Grandma Call had spent the night, and according to her report he had another good night of sleep.  But apparently his hemoglobin counts were such that it was time for Luke to have his first blood transfusion sometime that day.  For some reason (and I know this is going to seem like a "duh" moment), that news really freaked me out.  It is really routine, and it's in no way significant that he's getting his first at this point in treatment.  He's going to be getting a lot of transfusions over the course of his treatment.  But the thought of someone else's blood going into my baby's body really freaked me out.

But we had some time.  So we spent the morning hanging out.  Luke was off of his IV again, and he actually didn't have his NG tube in either, as you can see from the picture.  Apparently, he worked some magic and managed to pull the entire thing out that morning before I got there, and the nurse figured there was no sense in putting it back in until bedtime.  Luke was totally on board for that!  And I enjoyed seeing that beautiful face without a tube hanging out of his cute nose.

He nursed great that morning, but as the day wore on, he became less and less interested in eating.  Which made me all the more anxious.  I hate it when he doesn't eat.  He received his chemo at 2:00 pm again, and mostly slept through it.  The blood transfusion started at about 3:00 pm, and was set to be administered over a three hour period.  I had to sign consent while they told me all about everything that can go wrong.  Not that they expect any of that, and it's all exceptionally rare, but really?  How is that supposed to be comforting to the mother of the statistical anomaly? :)  But I kept my whits about me.  Danny's Dad, "Papa", showed up at this point to relieve me and send me home so I could high-five Danny out the door to the hospital to spend the night with Luke.  On my way out of the hospital, Danny sends me the following text: I think we've lost Johnny...The kid is a maniac, he was tough to handle before this all started.  He has actually done amazingly well, but I think it has finally taken its toll...And Sophie is sitting at the table singing "Rachel is dead and Luke is in the hospital!"  At this point, my emotions got the best of me and I broke down and cried the whole drive home.  I was terrified to come home to my oldest three who desperately need their Mom right now.  Their whole universe has just gone crazy, and they need me now to try to make sense of their world.  And it broke my already broken heart just that much more to realize that I had nothing left to give them.  That I was going to walk in that door barely keeping myself together as it was.

Luckily for me, the Lord saw fit to bless me with the most amazing older sister.  When I was younger, about 14 years old, I had an irrational fear of thunderstorms.  They would induce a panic attack every time.  I remember calling Jami when I would see dark clouds on the horizon.  I knew there was nothing she could do about the storm, but I knew she could make me feel better.  There was definitely a storm on my horizon last night, and I felt like a 14 year-old version of myself as I dialed her number.  And she didn't disappoint!  She gave me the time to vent and cry, and then gave me some really great suggestions of how to handle the kids that night.  I followed her advice and was able to manage until and through bedtime.  

I had an experience with Sophie while trying to get her to sleep.  Sophie has a very tender connection to her Aunt Rachel, who is my youngest sister.  Rachel passed away December 1, 2009 (almost exactly 3 years ago) in a car accident when she was on the cusp of 17 years old.  Sophie was only just over a year old.  But in the last 6 months or so, she has asked about Rachel a lot.  She talks about her, and how much she misses her.  She asks questions about the resurrection, and has to have a picture of Rachel in her room.  I've often wondered why Rachel is so important to her, but I've chalked it up to the fact that we just don't understand how relationships work beyond the veil, and before we came to earth.  Perhaps Sophie and Rachel are closer than I know.  

Something happened in the bedtime routine that upset Sophie, and I can't remember now what it was.  But she started crying, and saying "I just want Aunt Rachel to come home!"  I found myself with Sophie on my lap, trying to explain that we have two homes.  Our homes here on earth with our family, and our home with Heavenly Father in heaven.  And that sometimes, Heavenly Father asks us to come home to His home.  And that eventually, we'll all be together there with Heavenly Father in His home.  I cried all through that explanation, and pleaded with my Father that I was not laying the groundwork for her losing her little brother.  It was a heart-wrenching night, and I sobbed and sobbed.  After Sophie was asleep, that is.  But in the end, the same comfort came that assured me that all is in God's hands.  If anything, I needed that emotional catharsis.  I think it had more than a small hand in me sleeping well last night for the first time in days.

I'm on my way now to see my sweet boy.  Danny had the chance to spend the day with him today, and he said that Luke was still just not feeling well.  I miss my little guy, and I just can't wait til we can bring him home.