red balloons

Hey y’all- once again, it’s been months. But boy, do I have a major life update to share. And it has challenged me in ways that I had never even imagined- I have had to dig really, really deep to keep finding my red balloons. For those who haven’t read my original posts, or were not familiar with my journey through widowhood, I explained the significance of the red balloon in one of my original posts when I first started this blog- feel free to visit/revisit that post in the following link: https://redballoons.blog/2022/04/11/red-balloons/. 

For the first several months of 2024, daily life kept me pretty busy. Between managing a new(ish) role at work, every day school and extracurricular activities for the kids, and determining next steps for Two Small Coins (my non-profit built to support other widows in the community), I was not left with much down time. The month of May hit quickly, and although it is always a busy, end-of-the-school-year kind of season, this year it felt extra busy, as we were focused on all things graduation for Jack. I planned a somewhat last minute graduation party for Jack (Mr. “No Mom, I’m not going to want a party”) and three of his friends at the house. I was focused on making sure that he got to experience all of those once-in-a-lifetime moments that come along with such a major milestone. 

As I got the house ready for such a big party, I had time to reflect on how much I appreciate and love the space that I live in. That appreciation led me to evaluate all the other areas in my life, and I was honestly feeling very content. Although my job kept me working some long hours during our busy season (typically January through May), overall I really do enjoy what I do, and I love the people that I work with. Our team has had a lot of growth, and I was in the middle of bringing on several new team members. For Two Small Coins, we had decided our next step was to build a library of podcasts to touch on topics that affect widows, and we started recording the first few episodes. Summer plans for the kids were locked in with Alex and Mason spending the first month busy on their travel lacrosse teams, Jack headed off to his dream school (Georgia Institute of Technology- aka Georgia Tech) in June to begin his college career during the summer session, and Kylie busy with work and plans to visit Todd’s family. 

Although I was still trying to work out what the month of July might look like, I kept telling myself that I would make solid plans “after graduation- just get through graduation.” 

And we did. On Friday, May 24th, I was overwhelmed with happiness and pride as Jack graduated with honors. He had to work just a little harder in his final semester, fighting off senioritis, but he was able to take all five of his AP tests in early May, and aced his one other class that was not AP. We were surrounded in the stands by friends who helped cheer obnoxiously as he walked across the stage to accept his diploma. Following the graduation ceremony, my newly cleaned and organized house became the location for the after-party for Jack and his friends, and I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. It was a joy-filled night. 

On Saturday, May 25th, we (meaning me) woke up slowly, still tired from all the activity the night before. My only plan for the day was to bring my youngest son, Mason, who is 13, back to the same urgent care he had been to the week before, as he had this persistent low-grade fever that just would not go away. 

When I think back on it now, during the week leading up to Mother’s Day, Mason mentioned a few times that he wasn’t feeling that great. But he didn’t have a fever at the time, and he didn’t want to miss school or the playoff game for his lacrosse team that weekend, so he never wanted to stay home. The week after Mother’s Day, I did keep him home for the first few days, as he had a fever and continued to not feel great. But the fever resolved and he went back to school, knowing that there were less than a handful of days left for him to make-up any missed work before the end of the year. The weekend after Mother’s Day, we hosted Jack’s graduation party. My mom was in town, and because Mason’s fever had spiked again, she brought him to urgent care for me while I finished with last minute party details. They tested him for COVID, flu, strep and even mono- and all tests were negative. The doctor prescribed antibiotic medicine to try and knock out whatever virus might be affecting him, and told him he didn’t need to go to school until Wednesday of that week. As the week went on, his fever remained low-grade- never more than 100.8. I sent him back to school on Wednesday, because he only had three days left of the year and he needed to complete his final exams. By Friday night, I did allow him to stay home and skip the graduation ceremony, as he really didn’t feel well. While Jack and his friends were celebrating with their after-party, Mason and I were curled up on the couch in the living room, with him drinking a chocolate shake and watching Nailed It (one of our favorites) with me. I will forever cherish that memory- as he had his head on my shoulder, I had my arm around him, and we laughed together a lot. 

Back to Saturday, May 25, I loaded him into the car mid-morning and we headed out to the same urgent care he had gone to the week before with my mom. When we got there, they took his temperature, and it remained at the “not a fever” level of 100.4. I explained that he had been very tired, wasn’t feeling well, and that this low-grade fever had not gone away with the antibiotics he had taken over that week. The practitioner that we saw indicated that our next step would be to go to the emergency room at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta, as blood work would need to be drawn to determine what might be going on with Mason. 

And in my very best mom moment, I loaded him back into the car, stopped at Chick-fil-a for a milkshake (at that point, it was the only thing that he thought sounded good), and went directly home. Mason just wanted to sleep, and I told him we could be diligent with the Tylenol over the next few days to kick the fever, and then we would go see his pediatrician on Tuesday morning, following the holiday weekend. 

However, after we got home, my mom instincts kicked in. It didn’t matter how genuinely exhausted I was from all the graduation festivities- outside of the low grade fever, Mason had lost a total of six pounds in one week between his two visits to urgent care, and an additional three pounds in the prior week (for whatever random reason, he had weighed himself at his dad’s house two weeks earlier so we had a clear starting point). For my active, muscular kiddo who ate non-stop, the fact that he had lost so much weight didn’t sit well in my gut, and I grabbed a book and an iPad, loaded him into my car (again), and we headed to the emergency room.

I’m not going to lie- I did NOT want to make that drive. Making a drive to a hospital triggered every trauma memory that I have from the day that Todd died, and I cried the entire way there. I tried, as hard as I could, to use logic and reason with my anxious thoughts- telling myself over and over again, as I have been trained to do in therapy, “These worst case scenarios are not fact. They are just worries. There is no need to be scared or anxious.” 

But y’all- once again- for whatever reason- those worst case scenarios became facts. I sat in a hospital chair, once again pressing my fingernails into the opposite fingers, leaving crescent shaped indents, as once again, a doctor sat across from me and delivered news that would forever change my life- and in this case, Mason’s life as well.  She used the words “acute leukemia” as Mason’s diagnosis. Once again, I felt that raw, ripped apart feeling as, once again, my heart was shattered and I had zero control over what was happening. 

The days and weeks since have been a blur- so much new knowledge about a topic we didn’t really want to learn. Mason remained inpatient as they worked quickly to try and rid his body of as much leukemia as they safely could in the first round of chemo. I started a CaringBridge site to keep friends and family up to date on what’s going on specifically with Mason each day (https://new.caringbridge.org/site/5a31395c-1c4d-11ef-83e5-3be54469c30c?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web&utm_content=copylink_leftmenu_php). 

While I try to keep the CaringBridge site limited to the details of Mason’s progress and how he is doing, there are so many other things happening in life and ways that I am trying to focus on finding those red balloons throughout this process. My hope is to share a few more of those pieces here. While this blog began as a way to process my grief in widowhood and as a way to help me look for the light and the good in the middle of that dark season, I can safely say that grief comes in all shapes and sizes, and there are so many difficult seasons that folks need to walk through. I’m hopeful that continued posts during this season may help others as well- whether they are walking through a hard diagnosis like we are or their hurt comes from a completely different situation. 

I will say this- on that very first night, as we were being admitted into the pediatric intensive care unit and I was coming to terms with the fact that life as we knew it, as I was perfectly content with, would never be the same (once again!), I had a moment as I looked through the “Welcome” information from the hospital. There was a picture of a child holding a large bunch of balloons- including several that were red. It was almost as if it was a small reminder that no matter how difficult this road was about to be (and it has been an absolute nightmare), God is still in control of it all, and there will still be moments to be looking for those red balloons. 

Thank you for your continued interest in reading my thoughts- I hope they bring some encouragement and perspective for you no matter what season you find yourself in.