Childhood cancer changes your definition of "good news". Before…

Childhood cancer changes your definition of "good news".

Before cancer, good news was a promotion. A vacation. Winning a game. Something exciting happening.

Then your child gets cancer.

And suddenly, good news sounds like:

“His counts are coming up.”

“No blasts were found.”

“The scan looks clear.”

“We found a donor.”

“He can leave his room today."

“You can go home.”

You celebrate a neutrophil.

You celebrate a platelet count.

You celebrate your child eating three bites of food because yesterday they couldn't eat anything.

You celebrate an entire day without a fever.

You celebrate getting disconnected from an IV pole long enough for your child to run down a hallway.

You celebrate sleeping in your own bed.

You celebrate **boring.**

Because once you've watched normal life disappear overnight, you realize how extraordinary normal actually was.

And that's one of the strangest things childhood cancer leaves behind. For me personally, it put life into perspective, and I really think Luke helped a lot of people realize that. What really matters, and what does not. I never knew how lucky I was to have both my boys and husband at the dinner table. How lucky I was to be worried that Luke was going to get booted out of daycare because he wouldn't quit biting kids, lol. That really seemed like a big deal at the time, but it wasn't.

Even when the hospital bags are unpacked and the medications are put away, your definition of a good day is never quite the same. At that point, the parent has realized just how quickly things can change. So you become hyperaware of everything around you.

You notice things you didn't notice before.

A kid laughing in the next room.
Shoes by the front door.
Everyone sitting around the dinner table.
A completely ordinary Saturday with nowhere you have to be.

You notice all of these things and feel so lucky, and so joyful to be able to have that again. But you also feel scared, because life has shown you how quickly that can change.

Things that once felt insignificant become the things you'd give absolutely anything to have.

Cancer taught us to celebrate victories most people never have to think about.

But it also taught us something I wish we could have learned another way:

Ordinary life is a gift.

If today is boring, uneventful and completely normal...

Enjoy every second of it. 💛

This photo of Luke was one week before everything changed.

🎗️ When you see gold, remember the children.