Today

My child had cancer.

Sometimes I catch myself thinking this, almost slightly shocked. It still seems quite unbelievable that my child, that little blonde thing full of energy and vitality, had a form of cancer. I can remember those early days when she was first diagnosed; the moment when David, the lovely nurse who I will always remember, came in and told us that 'it was bad news and we needed to leave Catherine with him and go to speak with the doctors'.

Catherine was asleep on the bed with her teddy and I remember looking at her and prayed 'O, Lord. Please be in this somewhere'. She looked so incredibly beautiful asleep and I remember feeling a sense of absolute horror at the idea of what we might be told. I remember Mark and I looking at eachother and taking eachother's hand before walking almost what seemed to me like an endless walk to the room where two doctors waited expectedly, looking pale and concerned, holding a huge folder. The tea tray and teapot were on the table.

Those moments will remain with me, somewhere deep inside. It is hard to describe the feelings that go through you when you first find out something of this nature. The disbelief; the shock; the sense that you are being plunged headlong into the unknown. But above all, this overwhelming sense of heartache: that news, for the first few days, broke my heart.

The reason I am writing this today is because I just had that thought again as I was wandering around my flat, 'My child had cancer'. It stops me in my tracks for a few seconds.

I just thank God that He was at work in this situation and that He is still working in her preventative treatment today.

Please continue to pray for our girl. I love her so much.

(By the way, the time on this blog is not correct. I was not up at 4am writing this, thankfully!)