On June 1, 2010 our two year old, "Little Air Bear," was diagnosed with Childhood Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML) Type M7. After enduring 146 days at Primary Children's Hospital, Erin is now in remission and living a full life at home with our family. Her strong will and constant happy smile is an inspiration to us all. Through our difficult circumstances we found great strength and peace in our Savior, Jesus Christ. Thank you for checking in on us.

Friday, June 18, 2010

The Inevitable

Today Erin and I sat on a blanket on the floor to have a tea party. I reached over to comb her hair down with my fingers and my heart sunk as I pulled my hand back. The back of her shirt and my hand were frosted with Erin's beautiful blonde hair. I have always known that her hair would fall out, but somehow I just wasn't prepared for it actually happening. My eyes filled with tears as I called John to tell him, and then our social worker came in for a visit and I sobbed some more with her.

I know it sounds drastic, but the hospital has an electric razor to use if we want to just shave all of her hair off now. As her hair falls out it will get all over her bed, pillows, floor, and us and it can be rather irritating and itching to have it all over the place. I'm not sure if we'll shave it off or if we'll just let it fall out on it's own. I do know that I can't shave it without John being here with me to do it.

I am glad that I am here with her now and that I was able to be the first to see this new change. I cannot change what is happening, but I'm glad that I was here to witness the start of it. This is just another step in raising our little air bear, like the first time she took a step or the first time she said, "ma ma." I am grateful that I get to be a part of this incredible little girl's life.

3 comments:

  1. Oh wow, I can only imagine what that would be like. Sending you more hugs! She will always be your beautiful little Erin!

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  2. Jill-I'm reading your blog. I can't make meals, take care of kids, and I can't even donate blood, but I can cry with you. Thank you for being open about what is going on. Thank you for keeping it real, with a dose of eternal perspective mixed in. I ache with you and your family. This blog will be so important to many people-probably for years. Thank you for writing it. It is helping me, even though my problems are so different. {{hugs}}

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  3. I am grateful you were there too. Some moments we just need to be there for.

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