I pace the floor, reminded of the days I did this with a newborn. This time around she isn’t folded up against my chest, everything right with the world. Instead she is kicking and screaming, and I am holding her tiny hands to keep her from clawing her face and pulling out clumps of hair. Sometimes I let her scratch me, hoping it gives her some sense of satisfaction, one thing she is able to control.
I don’t know why she is screaming; I wonder if she does. Her shrill shriek breaks my heart into a million pieces, the same way this cancer shattered our lives.
Remember there is Someone greater holding both you and her in His arms…through all this.