On Saturday Feb. 8th from 11:00 am-1:00 pm, we are hosting a "Heart Art" party. We are inviting families, scouting troops, sports teams, people off the street...to come to the store to create handmade Valentine's. We will provide the art supplies, the snacks, and the raffle prizes (available to those who donate material goods or cash to the fundraiser)--You and your minis provide the creativity!
We will have adorable fuzzy sock cupcakes available for sale from Linda Wagner, a Rady's oncology mom who lost her son to neuroblastoma. She has a thriving craft business and has agreed to sell these to our customers for only $5.00. You can buy them for yourself or to donate to our fundraiser.
In March, my son, Nick, will celebrate his 3 year anniversary since being diagnosed with medulloblastoma (brain cancer). He had his quarterly scans last week, and he remains cancer free. Nick is, of course, the inspiration for our support of childhood cancer awareness and childhood cancer research as a family and as a business. Most importantly, our journey as a family is the reason we focus on supporting childhood cancer's victims and their families in direct ways...delivering comfort items and financial relief when they need it most.
Whenever we host a fundraiser for our local oncology patients and families, it stirs a lot of emotions that I normally work hard to ignore, push away as I try to live in the moment and focus on what is in my life, not what was or what could be. As customers and fans, some I am not even familiar with, come forward to support our fundraiser and support the oncology patients at Rady's and their families, some of them share their hearts, their stories, their losses. I am humbled. I feel embraced by a grace. I am grateful. I am also thrust into a messy flurry of memories.
A lot of my customers have heard the words, maybe over and over again...My son had cancer. Fortunately, few of them have firsthand knowledge of what that means. I wonder, do they wonder? Do you wonder? What does it really feel like to hear "Your child has cancer?" What is it like to sign the papers granting permission for gallons of toxic poisons and jolts and bolts of radiation to be put into your child's body? What happens to your work? Your other children? Your finances? Your own body...as your days are spent sitting and sleeping in a hospital chair next to your child's bed. What happens to your heart as you watch your child's hair fall out and they vomit every single day?
What does it feel like to wake up every morning and worry that someone you love SO MUCH might die? We all worry about our children, but what does it feel like to have your child tied to the train track with the train barreling down on him, and there's nothing at all that you can do to control whether that train is going to run right over your baby or stop in time to spare him?
I can answer all those questions. Every day, all day, for over 2 years, I literally had a pain in my heart, a physical pain, that I can only compare to an elephant resting it's foot right there, pressing it's weight into my chest until it hurt, and the pressure left me out of breath. I battled guilt for not being with my other children more. We suffered financial hardships we will probably never recover from. I spent days and days in the same clothes in freezing hospital rooms, afraid to leave because I wanted to be the one Nick could turn to if he felt bad or needed help with something. I gained weight because my meals were often chips from the mini mart down the hall, and I never worked out because I had the idea in my head that if I turned my energy and attention away from Nick and onto myself, I was doing something wrong...that something would go wrong with Nick.
I will forever love and appreciate all the people who brought hot meals to my family when I couldn't be with them or even think about cooking a meal. I know how much a Valentine letter of encouragement would have meant to me. I know how much I would have loved a pair of fuzzy socks or some hand cream or even a healthy snack. I know how hard it gets financially when your child is in treatment, you can't work, and you have extra daycare expenses for your other children. There were times I would literally pray that I could dig up enough money to pay to get out of the hospital parking structure. I know how much the gift of a gas card or a grocery store gift card can mean when your bank account is in the red.
The kindness of strangers does matter. I know that.
There is one thing I don't know though, and that is the searing, slashing, unrelenting agony of losing a child. Every morning, I wake and acknowledge that glorious truth, and that is what drives me to help other cancer families. I want to help bring comfort in their journey and fight, and I want to support research so no parent has to suffer the loss of a child because of cancer ever again.
I'm sorry if this was too long or too raw...or for some, maybe not long enough or raw enough...I just want to tell the story of why. Why should you make a Valentine for a family you don't know? Why should you give gifts or money to families you don't know? Because it matters. It matters to real people battling real disease and crisis and fear.
If you ever have any questions for me, please e-mail me at skswafford@miniandmeboutique.com
Thank you if you are supporting our family, our store, Rady Children's Hospital, and childhood cancer agencies!
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