September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month: The Rest of the Story

Caitlin had been diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. Cancer. Chemotherapy was offered to us as the best treatment, and we were told her protocol would consist of three different kinds of chemo. Two of the drugs would be administered at home, the other at the hospital. With these particular drugs, Caitlin’s diet would also be affected; she wouldn’t be able to eat bananas, chocolate, processed meat, and a few other things that are common in most children’s diets.

I can’t remember the order of things that happened next, however she needed to have a central line placed to receive her chemo. She’d had a BROVIAC in the hospital, but we decided to go with a PICC line this time around. The PICC line would be replaced halfway through her treatment with a PassPort.

There are two things that happened that are pretty vivid in my memory of this time. The first was coming home from the hospital and having several large boxes delivered. I opened them to find they were filled with medical supplies. It felt completely overwhelming and made everything so real.

I also remember that one of Caitlin’s drugs was not available in the dosage she needed, so the pharmacy replaced the amount with nine pills. It was at that time it occurred to Clint and me that Caitlin had never learned to swallow pills. She was barely four years old. Clint called oncology and was told he could crush them into a powder, but he wasn’t to breathe in any of the residual powder or get it on himself, and then we’d need to thoroughly clean the area. They were referring to something we were going to put in our child. Hard realities.

With Caitlin’s PICC line, it was necessary for her to have a home health care nurse. Our nurse would come once a week and turn our dining room into a miniature clinic. Her visits were just one part of our new routine, something that had to be done. In those first weeks I kind of resented her visits; it was just a reminder of the reality of what we had to do and it brought our two worlds, home and hospital together in a way I wasn’t comfortable with yet.

Then something changed. I don’t know when or how it happened, but our nurse became our dear friend. At the time, I didn’t have any “cancer mom friends.” It wasn’t until Caitlin had completed chemo that I was blessed (and I truly mean blessed) with a wonderful group of women who understood what it was like to have your life turned upside down in this way.

As I warmed up to our nurse, I learned that she had just completed treatment for breast cancer. I believe this gave her a whole new understanding beyond her medical training of how cancer felt on the other side of the stethoscope, how it affected the patient, and those who loved them. She was so loving and caring towards Caitlin and treated her in the gentlest way. I loved her for this.

During this time of treatment we were having a hard time answering the questions of strangers. First they would ask what had happened to Caitlin’s arm (her arm was wrapped to hold the PICC line next to her arm and prevent germs). If we responded with cancer, it would often lead to other questions that resulted in awkward conversations. I remember one such conversation at Caleb’s karate studio when a woman asked me right over the top of Caitlin’s head if she was expected to live very long. {Whew!)

Trusting our nurse, I asked her how she had handled these questions. She took Caitlin’s cheeks in her hands and looked her right in the eyes and told her that if someone asked her a question that she didn’t want to answer, she should tell them it was none of their business, then she had Caitlin practice saying this sentence over and over again (with attitude I might add). The look of empowerment in Caitlin’s eyes was amazing and she thought this was the funniest thing ever. Our nurse had given her permission to stand up for herself and take back her right to privacy.

I have to admit I thought that day would be the end of our public outings for a good long while, but it wasn’t. Caitlin never said those words to anyone, but she knew she could have and that was enough. It also did something for me. I knew I didn’t have to answer either. This was our fight and the details weren’t important to anyone except those who genuinely loved and cared about this child.

Chemotherapy surprised us. While we were at my parent’s house for Thanksgiving that first year I noticed something all over the carpet when I went downstairs. As I got closer, I realized it was clumps of Caitlin’s curly blond hair. It hurt my heart to see this and as I was alone, I quickly cleaned it up before anyone else noticed. I fully expected she’d lose the rest of her hair within a few days.

For the most part, we looked forward to going to clinic for chemo. It was our safe place where people understood and were there to help us. The woman who took blood pressure, temperature, height, and weight just loved Caitlin and was so sweet to her. She’s still there all these years later and is always so happy to see her and how much she’s grown when we go in each year.

The days were long, but Caitlin usually felt well enough to make an art project, have a snack, and play video games in our little room while each member of our medical team would come in to ask their questions, perform their examinations, poke and prod. She was only four, but somehow she put up with all this and remained patient. The only thing she didn’t like was actually getting the chemo; she said she could taste it when it was administered through her PICC line. On our way out of the hospital, she’d always want to buy a treat from the vending machine, or if it was still open, go to the gift shop to buy the big Smarties.

One day while we were in clinic I mentioned to our doctor that Caitlin was doing so much better on these drugs than I ever thought possible. She still had her hair, she hadn’t been sick too often, and she was able to go to preschool. Other than being tired often and having dark circles under her eyes, she was doing so well. He sympathetically told me that in most cases if the patient wasn’t affected by the chemo, the cancer wasn’t either.

After the holidays our social worker approached us about Make-A-Wish. We were a little hesitant at first because this was another reminder of the seriousness of Caitlin’s diagnosis. However, after speaking to MAW and being assigned a wonderful married couple as wish granters, the idea of letting Caitlin choose a wish felt right. With that said, having a four year old attempt to make a decision when the sky’s the limit is no small task!

After talking and listening to Caitlin, we narrowed her choice down to a Disney trip. We were thinking Disneyland, but were told that wasn’t “special enough.” If Caitlin wanted a Disney trip, they were sending us to Disney World. Our vacation was planned for the week of Easter.

Most families who choose a Disney World wish stay at Give Kids the World, a special resort created for wish families. The village consists of condo type homes, a restaurant, ice cream parlor, miniature golf, a pool and splash pad, etc. While we spent a lot of time there, our family stayed at the Disney Polynesian Resort because GKTW was full. We loved our time at GKTW. Caitlin rode the merry-go-round over and over, Caleb ate his weight in strawberry shakes, and we all loved the night the Disney artists visited, and celebrating Christmas complete with Santa, Mrs. Claus, and snow in Florida.

Wish kids are identified by a special button they wear. At the time of her wish, Caitlin was a huge fan of Bear and the Big Blue House. We were excited there was a live show, and Caitlin loved it. Afterwards she wanted to meet Bear. I asked a cast member if it would be possible to arrange a quick hello, and she politely told me he doesn’t meet with the public, then she spotted Caitlin’s magic button and quickly said she’d be right back. Our family was standing in the now empty theater and out came Bear. It was awesome. We were so grateful they would make this exception.

The same type of thing happened on Easter Sunday. We decided we’d go to the Grand Floridian for the Princess Breakfast, but once we got there, we could see they were full and there was a long line of people still waiting to get in even though it was rather late in the morning. Clint asked a hostess if they were taking reservations and she said no. Right about that time Caleb, Caitlin, and I walked in and one look at the button got us a table within minutes and the offer of a special picture of Caitlin taken with all the princesses.

Although the parks were full due to Easter/Spring vacations, we were allowed to ride our favorite rides as many times as we wanted without getting off, and when the kids wanted to meet a character, they were taken to the front of the line. We have so many wonderful memories of this week in Disney World. It was such a gift. When we talk about this vacation all our memories revolve around how special we were treated and how happy we felt. It was the perfect wish.

Caitlin’s chemotherapy treatment continued and she was patient and compliant. She did everything asked of her, even when it was painful or scary.

With that said, MRI’s are probably the worst part of having cancer for Caitlin. For several years, she was completely sedated as the MRI’s took over an hour due to the scanning of both the brain and spine, with and without contrast. The problem with sedation, other than the risk, was the drugs turned our normally sweet child into an all-day terror. It was rough.

As she grew older, we worked with Child Life to prepare her to have MRI’s without sedation. She had at least two of them without drugs, until one bad experience when we had a Radiology Tech we’d never worked with before. He didn’t talk to Caitlin during the scan, something she was used to and counted on, and she was afraid she’d been forgotten. She then attempted to unstrap herself and crawl out of the MRI. She’s never had a non-medicated MRI since, although she’s tried. “Scanxiety” is hard on her, and on us.

Caitlin still has her brain tumor and while it has remained stable, having scans is the only way to keep an eye on the tumor and track any growth and/or enhancement, both indicating activity. Unfortunately no MRI scan is exactly the same and we’ve had some scares over the years. When we get questionable results, the only thing we can do is wait for the next MRI.

Ten years ago this month Caitlin finished chemotherapy. For most families, end of treatment is a day of celebration, a time to ring the bell in clinic and have a party with your medical team.

Our experience was the opposite of a celebration and I’ll always remember it as a difficult day. At the end of treatment, we knew Caitlin’s brain tumor hadn’t shown any positive changes and we didn’t know if the treatment we’d put her through had even made a difference. She had finished a difficult chemo protocol and all that was left was to watch and wait. It was miserable knowing that a tumor still existed in Caitlin’s brain and that we were going to stop fighting it for a time. I felt helpless, depressed, and kind of desperate. Our oncologist was apologetic and kept telling us we still had options… for when additional treatment would be needed. Caitlin had had her PICC line replaced with a PassPort halfway through her treatment and our doctor told us she’d like her to keep it. A new plan was made for Caitlin to have MRI’s every six weeks, and if there were no changes, we’d move to every three months. I don’t think anyone believed this would be the end of treating her cancer.

In May of the following year, Caitlin finally had surgery to have her PassPort removed, and gradually the time between MRI’s increased. Over the years, we’ve had good news and bad news, lots of MRI’s, some late effects of cancer treatment, and many different types of therapies. We live from one MRI to the next always hoping for a stable report, and up to this point there has never been a need to have additional treatment.

I don’t know if we’ll ever have a true cancer-free declaration to celebrate, but we most definitely consider Caitlin a survivor. At this point we’ve come to terms with where we’ve been, and we have hope for what the future will hold. We’re grateful for the life we’ve shared with our children and we pray they will both enjoy long, happy lives full of the things that will bring joy and contentment. While I’d never want to do it again, or have anyone else have to go through it, the very real possibility of losing your child makes you a different kind of parent. As a family we have scars, but we’ve also had an increase in faith in a loving Heavenly Father, the knowledge that we can do hard things, and unconditional love for one another. I’m not sure if this is our happy ending, middle or just the beginning, but I’d like to believe we’re all better people for the lessons we’ve learned along the way.

September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month

With Caitlin’s permission, I’m participating in a project this month by writing the abbreviated version of Caitlin’s cancer journey to share on social media. It has been amazing to write all these memories down and look through the pictures of this time in our lives. Since I’ve never written about the early days, I’m going to also share them here.

Caitlin was diagnosed with brain cancer when she was three years old, just days after Christmas. The details of the hours before and after diagnosis are seared into my memory, never to be forgotten. We had driven from my parent’s house were we had celebrated Christmas and Caleb's birthday, straight to the hospital. A drive that would normally take around three hours took much longer due to our need to stop frequently to care for Caitlin. She was having seizures every few minutes. As Clint drove he watched Caitlin from the rearview mirror and silently sobbed.

Our nurse was waiting for us as we walked in the doors of the clinic, she took one look at Caitlin and ran for the doctor. We were immediately sent to another hospital ER for a CAT scan, and then we waited and waited for the dreaded news. The ER staff would huddle together, speak in hushed voices, glance our way, and then disperse, only to do this again every little while. I remember thinking how annoying this was but in my heart I knew I didn't want to know what they were whispering.

After what seemed an eternity, a nurse came to get me (while Clint was outside speaking on the phone with my parents) to tell me our pediatrician was on the phone and needed to speak to me. Our kind, tenderhearted pediatrician had to break the news to me through his own sobs that our baby had a brain tumor.

We were released from the ER with a prescription for anti-seizure medication and orders to go to Primary Children's first thing in the morning. Caleb had been picked up by a neighbor and I was so anxious to go get him, to have him with us. After getting the children in bed, Clint and I spent the whole night getting ready for the unknown. We had no idea how long we'd be in the hospital and what to expect while we were there. The car was unpacked, clothes were washed and bags repacked. There was no sleep and lots and lots of tears. I kept finding myself in the kids room, kneeling over Caitlin in her bed, holding her while sobbing and praying. Before this moment in my life, I had no idea how much a heart could hurt.

Clint and I had no experience with the ins and outs of hospital stays, so we were unsure what to expect. It turns out; it was a lot of anxious waiting.

Caitlin was admitted and immediately hooked up to medications to help get the seizures under control and a MRI was scheduled. We were told the medication would make her tired and lethargic; however it had the complete opposite effect. Our normally sweet, easy going child turned into a hyper terror. To add to the problem, she had lost her ability to walk on her own. She wanted to move around and couldn't, and it was a challenge to keep her on the bed in the little room. We also had visitors coming and going and our room felt like it would burst at the seams. It was chaotic and suffocating.

Our only refuge was the Forever Young Playroom. Once we learned that we were on hospital timing and "the doctor will be here to see you soon" really meant, sometime in the next four or so hours, the doctor will stop in for two minutes to talk to you (or not), we kind of took things into our own hands. We would take Caitlin to the playroom where we could sit on the floor with her and let her move around. Usually we had the place to ourselves. We would stay until we were finally called back to the room over the hospital loud speaker.

We learned from the MRI that Caitlin's tumor was located in the front left lobe of her brain and was the size of a golf ball. It would be necessary to have surgery to remove it and learn the pathology. After three days of hospitalization, we were released to go home on New Year's Eve to rest up for surgery that was scheduled on January 2, 2002.

After feeling like we’d been living in a glass box for days, we were ready for the privacy of our own home. Once we were on our way though, there was this feeling of vulnerability, loneliness, and like we didn’t belong in the real world anymore. Normal things like driving on the freeway and stopping at a store for milk felt wrong and foreign. It felt like everything had changed, but really I guess we were the ones who had changed.

Some of our friends came over that night with dinner and to let their kids play with Caitlin. It was good to have a distraction. We were blessed to have a close group of friends in our neighborhood; they supported, loved, and cheered us on from the very beginning.

Early on January 2, 2002, we headed back to Primary Children’s for surgery. I’ve never written about these early days, so I’m sure I’m forgetting a lot of information, but really, that’s probably a good thing. There was a lot of paperwork to be filled out and we signed our names and gave our consent to the most absurd things… permanent brain damage, disability, paralysis, death. I didn’t feel qualified to be a parent, a mother.

We met with Caitlin’s neurosurgeon. I don’t know what it was about him, but we trusted him immediately. The only thing I remember about that visit other than going over the risks of surgery again, was asking him if he had gotten a good night sleep. I needed to know he was prepared for hours of delicate surgery on my baby.

We kissed our tiny girl and then watched as her bed disappeared behind the swinging doors of the surgical room. My grandma, aunt, and friend, Jennifer came to wait with us, as my parents had taken Caleb home with them. We ended up in a waiting room with the parents of children having routine surgeries. They talked loudly, watched TV, and ate. The thing that was most annoying to me though was their laughter. How dare they laugh? Clint and I couldn’t even concentrate long enough to participate in conversation. There was a lot of blank staring and getting lost in thought.

We were told we’d receive periodic phone calls with updates, but our first update was given in person by a nurse. He came out to let us know the skull piece had been removed and the doctor was in the brain. Clint and I shared this indescribable look. We both knew what brain surgery meant, but I think until that very minute, it hadn’t sunken in. Our baby was having surgery, in her brain.

Caitlin's surgery lasted most of the day. When it was over, our neurosurgeon came into the waiting room to get us.

The surgery had gone well and Caitlin had been moved into the PICU. Now we needed to wake her up to see if she would recognize us and have the ability to speak and move her right side. She was so pale and had tubes and wires coming out of everywhere. I was surprised to see how little hair they’d shaved to do the surgery.

We woke Caitlin up and she immediately moved her right hand to her head and whispered, “Oooohhhhh, my head hurts.”

I don’t remember anything else about this day other than our doctor coming back to check on Caitlin and telling me the initial pathology report didn’t look good and that it would be days before the full report would be completed. The relief of having surgery over was immediately replaced with a deep fear and sadness.

The night of the surgery was crazy. The PICU was full of children, and for one night Clint and I were given one of the little sleeping rooms off the PICU waiting room. We didn’t feel good about leaving Caitlin though so we decided to take shifts. I stayed with Caitlin, and Clint went to get some sleep.

The PICU consists of many curtained off areas in one big room. Some had their curtains completely closed, some had the sides closed with the front curtain open to the main room, and others were fully exposed. We had our curtains open to the front and I was able to look around and hear some of the conversations. I wondered how all these children had ended up here just days after Christmas, and then I wondered how many had been here for Christmas. This was all so foreign. I remember there was one nurse I watched all night and I couldn’t believe how inattentive and uncaring she was. Our nurse was wonderful and I was grateful for that. Caitlin was her only patient that night.

In the early morning hours Clint came to check on us and as things had been going okay, we both decided to go back to our little room and sleep.

In the PICU the parents of the patients are asked to leave for an hour or so in the morning and in the evening while the doctors do their rounds. When we were allowed back in to see Caitlin I was surprised at how much worse she looked. Her little eyes were swollen and when they were open you could see her pain in them. She slept most of the day and we just sat next to her bed touching her hands and cheeks.

Later in the day our neurosurgeon came to the PICU to find us and told us pathology had come back faster than expected. He asked us to come with him so we could have a private discussion, and then led us through the back hallways and staircases to his conference room. I was so anxious and scared; I think I prayed the whole way there.

It’s funny how your brain works in times of great stress. It’s as if you are allowed only a certain amount of information before your mind turns off. There are some things I remember about this day so vividly, and there are also giant gaps.

Caitlin had a post-surgery MRI that morning and our doctor showed us the before and after scans. It was a little unnerving to see the hole in Caitlin’s brain where the tumor had been. The rest of the information was presented as good news/bad news. We learned the pathology of the tumor had come back as a Grade 1-2 Oligodendroglioma. Apparently that was supposed to be “good.” I can’t remember the word cancer being used, and felt like the overall message our neurosurgeon was giving us was positive.

The bad news was the MRI showed the tumor had not been fully removed and the consensus of the medical team was that a full resection would give Caitlin the best chance of survival and it would be less likely she would need additional follow-up treatment. Our neurosurgeon then gently repeated the message in words we could understand; Caitlin would need another brain surgery the following day.

I was beginning to feel braver about asking questions and I remember asking our doctor what it was like to perform brain surgery. He thought about it for a minute then gave the analogy of having a cup of yogurt (like Yoplait) with the middle filled with cottage cheese. It was his job to remove all the cottage cheese without disrupting the surrounding yogurt. I admit every time I eat yogurt, I think of that.

While we were talking, our doctor was playing with a puzzle of a model brain. He had taken it completely apart and was putting the pieces back together as he spoke. The last piece was giving him trouble and his attempts to force the piece caused the whole puzzle to break apart. He started over, and then put it down on the conference table unfinished and said something to the effect that he always had a hard time putting it back together the right way. Clint and I shared this look and just started laughing. It was the absolute wrong thing to say to parents of a child you had just operated on and were planning to operate on again. Somehow though it struck us as funny.

We went back to the PICU and I called my mom to tell her the latest news. She told me I didn’t sound like myself and I remember telling her I was just tired. Clint and I were both so exhausted. It was time for the parents to leave so the doctors could do their rounds. When we came back the night shift was coming on and lucky us, the inattentive nurse from the night before was assigned to Caitlin. There would be no sleep for us that night; there was no way we would leave our baby alone in her care.

The day of the second surgery began with another MRI. This time Caitlin’s brain was mapped to pinpoint the exact location of the residual tumor. I couldn’t believe we were doing this again; she was still so sick and weak.

The time of the surgery came quickly and we told the PICU nurse that Caitlin couldn’t go into surgery without a blessing. Clint and I were alone and we didn’t have much time, so a call was made over the hospital loudspeaker for a Latter-Day Saint (LDS) priesthood holder. Within minutes we were told someone was on the way. Clint and I were both in fragile states and with the impending risks of another surgery, we asked this kind hospital employee if he would offer the blessing. We had never met this man and we’ve never seen him since. While I can’t remember what was said, I will always remember how we felt. The words spoken were beautiful and powerful and personal. I knew the Lord was aware of this child.

Once again Caitlin was wheeled off to surgery and Clint and I headed for the waiting room to settle in for a long wait. There was another couple in the room and they seemed to share our level of concern and anxiety. Eventually the woman spoke to me and said she’d noticed us in the PICU. We learned they were there with their baby daughter who was having heart surgery. We continued to talk and share details and when some of my friends showed up later to wait with us, they joined in the conversation. This would be the only connection we would make with another family while in the hospital. We’ve maintained a friendship with this couple over the years, but it wasn’t until their oldest son was diagnosed with cancer four years later that we knew our meeting was inspired.

Caitlin had survived two brain surgeries in three days. Back in the PICU her body started reacting to all it had been through resulting in high fevers and the need for blood transfusions. After a few days, she was finally moved out of the PICU into a private room.

Each day Caitlin became more alert and interested in the things happening around her. Gifts and visitors came in steady streams, and her daily schedule included therapy of every kind, even a visit from a therapy dog. She had a real bath, the first since the morning of her initial surgery, and started to eat small amounts of real food. It finally felt like we were coming to an end of a nightmare.

We were finally released from Primary Children’s and went home to Caleb. We spent the winter healing, Caitlin physically, and the rest of us emotionally. After all the craziness of the diagnosis and surgeries it wasn’t until we got home that the weight of what we’d just been through hit us full force.

Spring came and Caitlin was getting her light back, not just her health, it was more than that, it was like a curtain had been lifted from her eyes. We took her in for her first follow-up MRI and our neurosurgeon told us something was showing up on the scan, but said it was most likely scar tissue. Around this time, Clint and I chaperoned a fieldtrip to the zoo with Caleb’s class and we took Caitlin with us. She looked so healthy and happy. I remember taking pictures of her that day, her curly hair was filling in and covering her scar, and she was just so happy to be at the zoo with all the big kids. It really hit me that she had come so far in just a few short months.

In the fall, Caitlin started preschool and turned four years old. We celebrated by hosting a service project for Primary Children’s, gathering toys, games, books, and art supplies from family and friends. It would be the first of three times we’d celebrate her birthday this way.

We met again with our neurosurgeon in November after having another follow-up MRI. Our neurosurgeon asked how everything had been going and if we’d noticed any changes. Clint said he didn’t think there had been any, but I started listing off some concerns I’d been having. Our doctor listened to everything I had to say and wrote a few notes in Caitlin’s file. We were completely blindsided when he told us the MRI confirmed new growth. The tumor was back and this time surgery wouldn’t be a viable option.

I don’t possess the vocabulary or the writing skills to adequately describe how it felt to be told Caitlin’s tumor had returned. All I know is it hit me harder than the initial diagnosis had. We decided to go to my parent’s house for the weekend for the love and support we so desperately needed to come to terms with this news.

Early the following week we had an appointment at PCMC in the hematology-oncology clinic. At the time this area of the hospital was located in a quiet area, just off the back entrance and down a small hallway. The department consisted of a waiting room with a TV, a table to make art projects, and a toy area. The receptionist area was behind glass and you talked through a little window. Once the patients name was called, weight, height, blood pressure and temperature were taken, and then you’d be taken around the corner to a long hallway of rooms. Each room consisted of a bed, rocking chair, a rolling stool, a sink, and plenty of medical equipment.

The first time we came to this clinic, I looked around and it made my heart hurt. The children around us looked so sick with their bald heads and the circles under their eyes. I felt so sad that they had this horrible disease. I’d gone my whole life without really knowing anyone who had had cancer and it didn’t seem right at all that children had it. I’m not sure what was going on with me, shock, denial, whatever, but I didn’t realize my very own child had cancer. No one up to that point had used “that” word.

The first person we met with was a sweet Fellow. She was motherly and kind; however our conversation became rather awkward when she realized we hadn’t been told we were dealing with more than just a benign brain tumor. I remember she looked concerned, left the room, and then came back and clearly communicated that Caitlin had cancer.

We then met the doctor who had been assigned our case, and our social worker. It was explained to us that the tumor had grown back in the same location, but it was located deeper in the brain than before and surgery would be too great a risk. Our medical team had discussed radiation, but felt Caitlin was too young and the risks to her brain outweighed the benefit of attempting to kill the tumor with this type of treatment. We were left with chemotherapy as our best option.

Two Months in One Post, Ready Go!

Ewwww, I can’t believe I’m so behind with our blog. Two important, happy, hard, life changing months have gone by without so much as a written word. Here goes the abbreviated version.

In June, Caleb graduated from high school and everything was a rush of activity after that. We had a limited amount of time to fit in a family vacation and we left for Oregon on June 7, 2013 with my parents and sister, Toni. We rented a beach house in a small coastal town with an amazing view of the ocean. Unfortunately our trip was brought to a screeching halt with the news my grandma (my dad’s mom) had passed away. We were all prepared for this to happen as she’d been on hospice care far longer than her medical team predicted, but it was still a huge blow and I think we all struggled with being so far away and enjoying our vacation seemed wrong, if not downright impossible. I think we can all agree that the best part of the trip was the jet boat tour we took on the Rogue River. It was a blast.

On June 17th, Caitlin went to Oakcrest Camp for the last time. This is a special weeklong LDS camp for junior high age girls. Caitlin talked about her time at Oakcrest for an entire year and couldn’t wait to get back there again. It didn’t disappoint, she loved it and thinks she’d like to be a counselor there one day.

The following week we had eye appointments for the kids and me, Caleb went to the temple for the first time to take out his own endowments, I had my second Missionary Mom Dinner, Clint and I celebrated our 22nd anniversary, and Caitlin went to Youth Conference.

All of a sudden the calendar changed to July. JULY!!! The month that was going to take forever to come was here and we hadn’t really even started shopping for Caleb’s mission. Caitlin left for EFY in Provo on July 1 with her sweet friend Emma, and Clint and I attempted to work around Caleb’s crazy temporary job schedule to help get him outfitted for the mission field. As Caleb was working all night and coming home to sleep during the day, we had our work cut out for us. I wasn’t thrilled about Caleb taking a job (guarding a fireworks tent overnight), but looking back now, it created a golden opportunity for Clint and me to spend time with him in the weeks leading up to him leaving. We would usually go have a late dinner together, then go hang out with him for an hour or so. Several nights Clint would go back and stay several hours and they would talk about his mission experiences while eating popsicles together.

Caitlin had the most amazing experience at EFY and wants to go not once, but twice next summer. She was fired up when she came home, full of the spirit and the desire to do good. We had her home for a few days, then off to Girls Camp she went. Except for the rain and then having to abandon camp to come home early, they had a great time.

This brings us to the weekend of Caleb’s farewell. My entire family came to see our new Elder off. On Saturday we went to the zoo (Clint and Caleb opted out to finish some last minute errands) and then we had a family dinner.

On Sunday, Caleb did a fantastic job speaking and some of his friends performed a special musical number. There was a lot of support from family and friends and it was the best way I could imagine sending my son into the mission field. After church, we had a luncheon at the community club house and it was a great way to extend the day and give everyone the opportunity to spend time with Caleb.

On Monday there were yet a few more errands, last minute plans with friends, packing, and then being set apart as an Elder. Our Bishop and Stake President came over to our house and there was a special feeling as we were each asked to offer some advice to our new missionary and Caleb was asked to bear his testimony.  I really, really wish I’d thought to write down the key points of his blessing, but I didn’t. I remember some of the promises though, and I hope Caleb will also remember them as he serves for the next two years.

On Tuesday, we all slept in a little as packing and talking lasted into the morning hours. Amazingly everything fit into two large suitcases and a carry-on and before we knew it, it was time to go. We had a quick lunch on our way, and got to the airport right on time. Thanks to my job, we were able to take Caleb right to the gate, just like families were allowed to do pre-9/11. We’d spotted a few young men in security that we tagged as missionaries, but we were blown away when we rounded the turn to the gate to find many young missionaries waiting for the same flight. They were all headed for the New Zealand MTC, and then to the New Zealand Wellington mission. Awesome! We took plenty of pictures and were able to share them with all the missionaries families over the course of the next few days. When it came time to say goodbye to Caleb, it really helped knowing he was traveling with new friends.

With the absolute whirlwind of June and most of July, Clint, Caitlin, and I have opted for a quiet remainder of summer. We’ve kept busy with work, shopping for school clothes, caring for a baby bird, coming up with care packages to send Caleb, attending an open house and Back to School Night at Caitlin’s brand new school. Caitlin and I have pampered ourselves with facials and manicures, new shoes, Red Mango, and all the latest appropriate movies. Oh, and we also fit in a trip to Bear Lake. We decided on three must-do things, a Pickelville Playhouse theater experience,  raspberry shakes, and time on a wave runner. It was really a fun time. Next year we’ll go for more than one day. Ha!

Tomorrow school starts for Caitlin. She’ll be a big ninth grader this year. Exciting and crazy all at once. I think her new school shoes represent her pretty well- cute, fun, quirky, and a little bit sparkly.

A Big Day for Caleb

Almost four years ago our family attended the Oquirrh Mountain Temple Dedication where we met President Thomas S. Monson and President Dieter F. Uchtdorf. Both of these amazing men shook Caleb's hand and asked him if he planned to serve a mission for our church. His answer was of course, “yes!” Tonight we returned to this temple again and Caleb received his own endowment. He’s one step closer to keeping the promises he made to serve a full time mission for the Lord. We’re down to three weeks… oh my heart!

Caleb’s High School Graduation 2013

I’ll write more later because it’s seriously so late, but graduation has come and gone. Oh man, I’m so proud of my kiddo.

Caleb’s Graduation VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

Our Eventful Weekend

We headed to Cedar City on Friday for what promised to be a busy weekend. Minutes before we left we found that we’d sprung a leak and had water flowing through our basement ceiling. What gives? While living in this house for several years as renters, we had no problems. Now that we own it (and have fully renovated it), we’ve had nothing but problems. Sigh….

We ended up just turning off all the water to our house, making a hole in the ceiling to allow some air and covering the floor with plastic… and then we left.

Saturday morning we had family pictures. We’ve been meaning to do this for a long time, but this was the perfect time- right after the birth of a new nephew and weeks before Caleb leaving on his mission.

After the picture, Clint and I ran down to St. George with my Dad to visit my Grandma. She’s on hospice care and not expected to live much longer. I didn’t think I’d have the opportunity to see her again, so it was a blessing.

Later in the afternoon, Caleb baptized his cousin, Kysa. It was pretty special to see these two kids I love dressed in white, both in the process of making important decisions and covenants.

On Sunday, Clint and Caleb stood in the circle to bless my new nephew, Jax (he’s so cute!). Then we made a mad dash home arriving minutes before Caleb’s Seminary Graduation.

Getting Closer…

Graduation is coming! It has been wonderful watching Caleb learn, grow, and truly enjoy his high school years. Thanks Herriman High!

The Crazy Month of May

The school year is coming to an end and the kids are BUSY, which means we’re all BUSY. Some of the highlights of the month so far are as follows:

Clint and I went to dinner with our friends, the Connors

We participated in the Daybreak Yard Sale

Clint and the kids gave me an awesome necklace for Mother’s Day

As a family we went to the Living Planet Aquarium

We all went to the dentist

We celebrated with Caleb at his Senior Awards Night

I had my first Missionary Mom’s Dinner Group, which I was inspired to start. This is for Missionary Mom’s in our Stake and boy, it’s been a great way to meet new friends

Caitlin had her Spring Orchestra Concert. They’ve made some big strides this year

Caleb went to his Senior Dinner/Dance

Clint, Caleb, and Caitlin went scuba diving

   

Caleb went to the Imagine Dragons concert (his first concert ever)

Caitlin participated in a school chalk art festival with her friend. She came home rather colorful

The next few weeks are crammed with more activities and… who am I kidding… the next few months are crammed with activities… until it’s time to say goodbye to our boy

Reach for the Gold

Tonight was the Senior Dinner and Awards Banquet; the night to celebrate the accomplishments of some wonderful kids, including my very own.

Caleb received a plaque for his service as a class officer

A plaque for being a Sterling Scholar

He received the President’s Award for Educational Excellence

Enhanced Diploma’s for Academic Merit, Activity, Health, Science and Technology, Science, and Social Studies

He also received the Mustang Medallion

He has really made the most of his high school years and has experienced and accomplished so much. We’re incredibly proud of him. Three weeks until graduation!

High School Choir Tour: New York

Caleb left for New York with his high school choir on Thursday morning. We haven’t heard a thing from him until tonight when he called to ask us to check him in for his flight. He also let us know he’s spent all of $11.98 and has had about two hours of sleep total. Awesome.

Here are a few of the photos we’ve seen on Facebook- Times Square before going to Phantom of the Opera, Central Park, and the New York Temple.

Caleb’s Last Prom

Just another sign that senior year is coming to an end, Caleb’s last prom has come and gone.

The day started out with the four couples having breakfast and playing games. Tonight they had dinner at Macaroni Grill and were then off to the Capitol Building for the dance. Cute, cute kids. Wish the photos weren’t so shadowy.