Learning to dance in the rain

      Hey there, thanks for clickin' over. I'm in bed on my laptop and the house is quiet, so I'm going to try and get this out before my eyelids pull shut and I pass out:) I know it's late, but I've had some strong thoughts on my mind for nearly a month now, and I finally told you guys today that I would share them to give myself some accountability. Every time I tried to dig deep and write them out for the blog I would end up just shutting my computer and walking away. It's really hard lately to write when I'm feeling low, let alone put myself down there on purpose to write out deep thoughts. The last couple of days though you guys have just been so especially encouraging that I feel confident to just get them out once and for all. I want to start on the 7 month anniversary of Marty's passing as we're a few days away from his 8th now.

     The 15th of January was a beautiful Sunday. I woke up extra early, and the rest of the house was silent. I walked quietly into the kitchen and was stopped by the sight of snow falling outside. I remember pulling on my boots and a jacket and went out the back door to get some more wood from the snow-covered woodpile, and then I had to pause again to take in the sight. It was easily the most beautiful snowfall I'd ever seen. Every flake was sparkling and shining in the soft light of the sunrise, and they were clinging to even the tiniest leaf and limb. The silence was so complete, and I stood there for a while to soak it in before taking a few pictures, sharing a clip of it to my insta-story for you guys, and heading back inside with an armful of wood.

     That afternoon all seven of us loaded up in the car and headed to the cemetery as we do each week. During the Winter months we've been bringing supplies with us to try and keep Martin's headstone clear of snow and ice, and the freezing wind blew around us as I watched Richard shovel and chip away to expose it the best he could. It was such a display of love and respect for Martin on his part I thought as I watched him working so hard. After returning home I checked in on my sweet mother-in-law, and we exchanged a few messages of support and love on such a hard day for both of us. I then retreated to the basement and tried hard to write out how I was feeling on the 7-month mark. I kept typing paragraphs about how hard the day was, about how much I missed Martin, about the different ways I'm doing better and worse at the same time, about the kind of man it takes to take on what Richard has, about the height and depth of love, etc, but I kept deleting them. Nothing fit well enough for that day. There weren't words to describe my feelings, but now as we're nearing his 8th month anniversary, I want to share a few thoughts and misconceptions about grief that I feel (in my humble opinion) are very important to those of us who continue to live after someone dear to them is gone.

     First of all, there is no 'other side' of grief. It's never going to pass. You don't ever 'move on' from it. You just learn to live with it. You absorb it. It becomes part of you. You simply adjust and change. You slowly but surely find how to navigate through your new normal with it. It doesn't get easier, you just get stronger. I'll say that again: It does not get easier, you just get stronger.

You stop waiting for the storm to pass, and instead, learn to dance in the rain. 

     With my story of Martin and his melanoma, we started grieving the minute we heard the words 'terminal cancer' nearly 2 years ago now. We started immediately mourning the life we used to have where that word didn't exist, where he wasn't in pain, where we didn't have fear, where our family was whole. A life that we knew we'd never have again, not completely. The doctor left the room for a bit, and we just held tightly to each other as we cried together. The baby in my tummy kicked and he wondered if he would even be able to meet her at all. We leaned our foreheads together as he started brainstorming about how we should prepare for when he was gone, for when I was alone with all five children, about how I was going to make a living, about the kind of man he hoped I would find. I cried harder and asked him to stop. I couldn't think about a life without him. We weren't going to think that as even a possibility right then.

     Nearly two years ago now. Two years of grieving, two years of mourning our simple beautiful life. And now he's gone. The 8 years we had together, and the 15 months we fought that cancer as hard as we could; no amount of months or years or decades can change what that meant to me and the impact that it had on me. I realized a long time ago that there was no 'getting over' him. There is no 'moving on' from him. There is never going to be a time that I stop missing him. No amount of carrying on with life or moving here or there with the kids or being happy or finding love again or moving forward or making new friends is going to change that.

     There is no timeline for grief, so don't you ever ever let anyone tell you there is. Loss like that is not something that you take a year, or two, or five to get through and complete, and then you're okay to move forward. There are no rules to grief. YOU make the decisions about how you handle your grief, about how and when you move forward, because you are the only one who feels the way you do, who has experienced exactly what you have, and who has to keep on living long after everyone else has forgotten. You don't base your feelings and choices about how others think you should feel or choose. You absolutely can't.

     Secondly, there is not just one anniversary every year when the day they died rolls around again. Yes, that's the formal definition of the word, but it's much more than that. As everyone who has experienced the loss of someone they love deeply can attest, it's not even the yearly events like birthdays and Christmases (which are indeed incredibly painful), it's all those other little anniversaries that happen far more often, mostly when you least expect them, and that are usually far more crippling. Brief moments of memory that can broadside you, causing you to relive the tragedy through again in your mind; memories and dreams that can cause your heart to break all over again. After losing someone you love, especially if it's someone who lived with you (and experienced every moment of your life with you for nearly a decade or more), everything in your life becomes a potential reoccurring trigger. And since these triggers are customized to you and aren't obvious to 99% of the people around you, they are often completely unaware and oblivious of just how often and for what reasons you're mourning. In my mind, not one person in my life was with me every step of the way and witnessed everything I have felt and been through and experienced the last couple years.

     So no, it's not just the 15th of June, or the 21st (the day of his funeral), or even the 15th of every months or every Wednesday morning at 10:35. I wish the reminders were so few, but that's not how grief works. It's every time the sunlight shines through the big windows like it did on his hospice bed when he took his last breath. It's every time I see the snowflakes falling and remember that night he taught me to waltz in the snow, and the night he knelt and proposed. It's every time I hear Coldplay and remember our fingers intertwining for the first time. It's the movie we watched on our first date. It's the smell of fresh grass, bread flour on my cheek, and an old baseball on my shelf. It's certain colors I see, his favorite way I wore my hair, milk spills, the mirror that fell off the wall, our favorite restaurant. Certain words, jewelry, music, baby clothes, books we bought together, mangos, headphones, Thai food, power tools, violin music. On, and on. Everyday things that have memories and stories attached that only I know about, not to mention all of our children that look just like him. Our house, our whole life that we built together. This city that he grew up in and everything we did, everywhere we went. We were together almost constantly. Everything around me is full of memories and moments that hurt. That remind me of his pain. That remind me of our loss and of that other life that's over.

     Coming to the realization on that first day even that I could walk around in public with nobody knowing what was happening in my life, has helped me see that most everyone we come in contact with every day could be in a similar situation, experiencing triggers that I know nothing about. That they could be dealing with their own internal pain. Fighting silent battles maybe with forced smiles on their faces, jut trying their best to see the silver lining in every day. Trying their best to keep on going, to survive. I guess that's my main thought I want to share in this post. Yes, I want to answer a lot of questions I've received and to clear the air a bit too, and yes I want to give strength and confidence to all the grievers that have reached out to me, but mostly because I want to let those of you fighting your own silent battles to know that we are in this together. That you/we are not alone in your often constant little anniversaries of grief.

     A couple months ago I had the pleasure of talking about handling grief publically with my sweet friend Jenna Kutcher on episode 011 of The Goal Digger Podcast. I would love for you to listen if you have time, especially if you're relatively new to my blog and my story. During the interview, Jenna also shares some very personal thoughts on her miscarriage, and I love how even though our grief is based on very different circumstances, that we're still able to relate and connect and empathize with each other. That's another big thought that I want to pass on tonight. That even if we're not going through pain of our own, that we can still try our best to have empathy for others, and not judgment. If you find yourself or another ever judging and critiquing the grief process and choices of another harshly, it simply means that they are nowhere near understanding their pain and position, and if that's the case then lucky them I suppose, right?

Bill Bullard said that "Opinion is really the lowest form of knowledge. It requires no accountability, no understanding. The highest form of knowledge is empathy, for it requires us to suspend our egos and to live in anothers' world." It really is a gift to step into the shoes of another person, striving to understand their feelings and perspectives, to be in it with them. To not try and save them or fix them, but to simply meet them where they are, to feel with them, and let them know that they're not alone.

So many of you just glow with empathy. With the desire to take pain from the world by choosing to love tenderly as you would want others to love you, and do your best to understand others and not judge by your own perspective. I feel so incredibly blessed to be in a position of interacting with so many of you kind-hearted souls, as it just shows the world that there is still so much goodness. Thank you:)

     Well now that's all for tonight I guess, thank yous so much for reading this far. If you have any thoughts on your own struggles or grief or maybe someone close that you're trying to help, etc. I'd love for you to share with us, but no pressure as always.

Happy new week ahead my friends,

xoxo

finding the right thread

Evening my dears. I feel like it's been a while since I've just sat and started writing without a direction in mind or a topic to go on, but this morning Richard encouraged/pushed me down to the office before he headed out, where I sat down and turned on my computer. Looking up from the screen out the window I could see white everywhere from the first big snowfall, which often helps me feel comforted and at peace. I feel a ramble of sorts coming on, and might do a lot of these types of posts for a while if you can handle them alright:)

There's just so much that I want to share in this space. Ever since I can remember I've loved to write. My earliest journals would turn into fantasy tales with Animorphs and elves, or how my sister and I climbed to the top of mount Everest and jumped off onto the clouds. That turned into begging to set up one of my dad's old windows '95 dell desktops in my bedroom when I was in middle school. I'd stay up late writing pages and pages, and I'd save my poems and stories on floppy discs! Remember those? haha I just loved the feeling of the keys under my fingertips, and the soft rhythmic clicking as I opened up the floodgates in my head and let everything rush out onto the paper or the screen. I would often picture it as pulling a loose thread in a sweater and watching it unravel.

There was so much pleasure and relief when I was able to type for hours. I could feel the pressure in my head lessening. I could feel peace settling over my mind like a soft blanket. The challenge was turning every thought into something understandable, doing the feelings justice with my limited vocabulary. English is really restricting sometimes, isn't it?

I had many pen-pals all growing up from all over that I kept in regular touch with, and then, of course I wrote to Richard for several years which help nurture that love of expression through writing. After he and I stopped keeping in touch and I got married, I didn't write much until I was nearly ready to deliver Ellie. I discovered my first blog ever randomly, and after following and exploring, I decided to start sharing my own day-to-day life in journal format online privately. It was a journey into an unknown world, an experiment, but overall an outlet. I was still typing as I had for so many years, but this time it felt like I was doing something special with it, even though nobody could read it at that point. :) Hitting publish just felt so much more official, and extremely scary too. I finally started sharing publicly here nearly five years ago now(some of you remember those days!). It was a great way to share the goings on with my family with any friends and relatives interested, while at the same time giving me a place to share my interests and struggles, adventures in photography and cooking, and things I loved or was learning.

Over the years as more people have come here to visit and stay a while, they(you) joined in my mental picture of friends and family that I was writing to. Tens of thousands of you were coming every day. You would comment on things that affected you or excited you, or even just to give encouragement and support. Always support:) You knew/know more about me than most in some ways, simply because you cared to visit and read, over and over for so long. I started asking for feedback and sharing specific things that you guys were interested in learning more about me and my family, recommendations I could give, and answering your questions about things like my favorite curling irons and shoe brands, etc.

My aim has always been and will always be to uplift and inspire with this blog, while simply trying to be a better me than I was yesterday. I just thought that if I could make even one person's day a little bit better by visiting here, that all the effort would be worth it. All the late late nights of code and emails and cropping, etc. To hear that someone had made my soup for their family, or used one of my hair tutorials on their wedding day was and is, so so incredibly rewarding. Starting to earn money from my blog for my own growing family while typing late at night in my basement (making quilts for my Etsy shop during nap time, remember that?!) and taking pictures of our activities together became such an additional blessing from this blog, one I wouldn't fully appreciate until much later. These days the impact is much greater, as is the pressure.

Had I known as a 19-year-old wife and mother what my life would look like today, I might not have decided to share so much, to open up so much. To be in a position so quickly of affecting so many people positively and sometimes negatively has been such a mix of blessing and burden (much more blessing though I promise:)), but I never planned for my blog to end up here, and I certainly never planned for my life to go this way.

I never planned for my sweetheart to be diagnosed with terminal cancer, or to become the bread winner while taking care of him and our five little ones, day in and day out while he slowly faded for nearly year and a half. I never planned to hand off my babies to friends over and over, and to push Marty in a wheelchair at 9 months pregnant through airport terminals and tarmacs, or to try and explain to our kids why he yelled in pain so much, or why he couldn't walk or play with them. I never planned on him forgetting my name, or to have to put on the best smile I could and tell him with every ounce of hope I could muster that it was absolutely all going to be alright, when I was completely broken inside. I never planned to cling to him while he struggled to breathe, or to beg him to please eat just one more bite.

I never planned to hold tightly to his beautiful soft hand as it turned cold, or to pick out his casket.

I never planned to become a widow at 25, or to try and take care of all the needs of those five kids while being absolutely shattered myself. Trying to play the role of two full parents at once while not even being one whole person. Trying not to collapse with gratitude onto every visitor who came to offer help. I never planned for the isolation of grief, or the waves of depression and anxiety that overtake and bury me so often. I never planned for my 5-year-old to rub my hair and comfort me as I cried against a shelf at the grocery store, surrounded by exhausted and hungry little ones.

I never planned that someone I had cared so deeply for from my past would come along as an answer to so many thousands of prayers on our behalf. That he would ask the kids for their favorite stories of our dear father and husband and happily look through pictures with them. That he would make them grilled cheese, jump on the trampoline with them, zip up their coats, and hold them on his shoulders. I never planned that that man would literally pick me up and carry me when I couldn't stand or function with grief. That he would crouch with us all at Martin's grave every week to lay flowers. That he would love all 6 of us so selflessly and unconditionally. That he would give up so much to help heal my heart, to be a wonderful father figure to the children, and to help us all have some hope and happiness again.

I am so beyond grateful for this place where all our people (that includes you:)) can come to get updates. I'm grateful for all those that could take part in the special and messy and beautiful and hard parts of our lives that couldn't be here in person. Distant family and friends who couldn't meet our new babies in person or manage to come to Martin's funeral, that could still feel included because of the photos and stories I've shared here.

This is my safe place. My family's place. It's not an open platform for negativity or judgment, selfish opinions, and blind assumptions. It's not a place to vent aggression or jealousy after a bad day of work, and that behavior has not and will never be allowed here. So many of you that may have clicked over out of curiosity or word of mouth, but have stayed with tenderness or love in your heart and supported silently or through comments, etc, you're part of that family. It's about trust and love and mutual understanding. Growing and learning and loving and sharing together the real, raw, beautiful, inspiring parts of everyday life.

This is still the same blog that I started years ago. I'm still the same Emily that just wanted to help someone/anyone smile a little more or hope a little more, it's just that now there are more of us in here, and there's more potential. It's not just about new recipes or date ideas or weekend wrap-ups. Martin's warrior story, our family's journey, it's helping to save lives. The fight that we were in and continue in every day, Martin's pain and courage... his faith. People he'll never meet or know about in this life are seeking treatment now and/or are cancer free completely because of the pieces of our story shared here. So many people have come forward to tell me about their journey that started here. That they've saved their marriage, or decided to go forward with starting their family, or that they simply have hope and strength in life and love again. Not because of my typing, but because of our story together. Because of Martin's love and strength, because of my babies' smiles, because of our pain and heartache, because of second chances at love, because of my weakness and frailty. Our humanity, this community:)

So no, I didn't plan any of this to happen when I started blogging, and these feelings of vulnerability, grief, heartache, and fear that have been so heightened since those doctors gave him a few weeks left are stronger than ever now, and honestly they've kept me from typing like this and sharing online over and over again. But it doesn't go away, the need to share. It only builds, and builds, like the growing pressure of a river against a dam. So I'm going to try harder to type more as I've promised so many times in the past. I'm going to try to take more pictures, to share more favorites, to cook more. I'm also going to hope more, and to simply be brave. Not because I expect to make any great difference moving forward or because you need me or my writings at all, but because I need you... now more than ever. I just need to find the right thread, and I think I see it now:)

Thank you so much for reading if you've made it this far, and again, please excuse the rambly posts from here on out:) I hope they make some sense to you kind hearted friends. ♥♥♥

So much love, 

Daddy's Special Day

It was a week ago today. Two days after Father's day, nearly a week after he'd passed. A week that was full of meeting with the funeral director, choosing flowers, ordering a casket, endless phone calls, picking out music, typing up the program, sorting through thousands and thousands of photos that told the story of our love and life together. My sweetheart. So much heartache, so many mixed emotions. It still doesn't feel real.

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Much love to my dear friends Tracy Layne and Justin Hackworth for taking beautiful photos on the day, that my children and I will keep close to our hearts forever. I'm sharing a few from Tracy today to honor the anniversary, to help me accept a bit more, and to encourage you to hold onto your loved ones a bit tighter. 

If you're not in the mood for a heavy picture story, or if you feel uncomfortable viewing and reading more details of my husband's funeral, feel free to click away, but please come back later. ♡♡♡ 

photos by Tracy Layne

Thank heaven for me sweet children. Just as they have kept me smiling every day through the hardest months of my life, trying to put our situation into words that they can understand has helped me understand it more myself.

Trying to explain to my little 6-year-old Ellie that everyone we loved was going to get together for a special day for daddy, that there was going to be lots of hugs and tears because we all missed him so much, helped me prepare for it myself.

Telling my innocent 5-year-old Sophie that we were going to be seeing daddy's body for the last time, that it was okay to be sad for ourselves but that we should be happy for daddy, helped me to acknowledge those things as well.

Finding the words for John, my 4-year-old, that daddy's body was in that beautiful box, that it would keep his body safe in the ground, and that he wasn't sick or hurting anymore, helped me to accept those things a bit more too.

And telling my sweet 2-year-old Lydia, to say "goodbye daddy, see you soon." while we laid our hands on Martin's casket, solidified in my mind a beautiful picture of our family all together again one day, and I could close my eyes and almost feel his warmth and hear their sweet giggles.

It doesn't matter what you believe in, but at the end of all things life is so precious, people are important, and what matters the most is love. Telling my sweet children that I know, that the love they have for their dad, and the incredible love that he has for them is strong enough to keep them connected forever and ever, and that they'll see him again one day... That's the only thing that can make them smile again, and give them hope to keep going.

And telling them that every day helps me to hope too, and to smile, and to keep going.

I miss you so much, Martin.

Goodbye My Love

photo 1/16 via Inframesphotography

Yesterday morning while the sun was shining, I held Martin's hand as he took his last breath and slipped quietly into eternity. The heartbreak I feel is far more crippling than I ever imagined, but more powerful still is the happiness from knowing he has finally found peace from his pain, that he's walking with angels, and that we will be together again one day.

'But they that wait upon the lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.' - Isaiah 40:31

Until we meet again, I miss you my sweetheart. 

♡♡♡

Deep Breaths

Picture from January via inframesphotography

It feels like I've been trying to write this update for ages, but it's only been about a week now since we sat together in that hospital room, with Martin on the bed and I at his side, holding his hand tightly in mine. A dozen doctors and nurses from his oncology team were standing around that little room with their clipboards. Our main doctor sat on the bed beside me as I looked at Martin's scans and tried to understand what she was saying to us. Some of the charts were just big blurry masses where we should have been able to see his different organs, and she was explaining how the disease was moving so quickly and completely taking over. I could feel my heart getting heavier with every word of her explanation. Then she took a deep breath and said those words so apologetically, "I mean we're talking a few weeks here, maybe."

I can't even explain what that felt like. All I know is that I was holding his warm hand, and I saw our five little babies in my mind, and I knew that no matter what happened to Marty that we would all be together. That our family was forever, and that everything would be OK, no matter what.

Once they were gone, Marty and I just looked at each other for a while in silence. I saw so many different memories in his beautiful eyes, and so many different emotions flooded through me as I thought back on our short-but full-life together so far. We talked about things that I'll keep to myself, but then once he was asleep I left the room and made a few calls. The doctors were stopping all treatment of Martin's cancer and moving us upstairs to palliative care so that simply managing Martin's pain, and getting us back to our children could become the top priority. They sent people to help arrange a life-flight to take us home, as well as to help set up hospice care to meet us once we arrived.

So, I don't really know how to describe what I'm thinking or where my mind is, as every emotion is kindof blended together lately. What I usually say to people is that I've been at this for over a year already, which in itself has been a blessing. There's been so many different feelings in our house this past week though. So much paperwork, so many caring visitors, so much thinking and planning and praying. There's also been no shortage of treats delivered, hugs given, and hope. Always hope.

So, thank you for your never-ending love and positivity. I feel so incredibly lucky and blessed to have so many angels behind us through this whole last year. Every time I got online this last week especially and saw sweet comments from so so many of you, encouraging me to update, sharing our story, spreading our fundraiser, sending messages of hope and concern and understanding, or ways in which our ordeal has helped or changed you in some positive way. That's what's kept my head up through all of this, and that's what's going to keep me going no matter what may happen to my sweetheart or to my family.

So much love for you all,

#hopeformartin || an update & some answers

Photos from last November with Justin Hackworth

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I've been trying to think of what to say today for a little while now, but for those of you that have been wanting a current update about Martin's progress, this post is for you. It's also for those of you that have been asking for a long long time about a place where you could possibly help out our family financially.

Last week a sweet friend of mine started a YouCaring fundraiser for our family, and I've already been overwhelmed with the tender messages and memories that have been passed around with it, not to mention the kindness and love from so many people who have already contributed and/or shared the fund. Every dollar makes such a difference. That being said, please don't feel any pressure to help this way or even share for that matter. I already feel so so blessed at the many thousands of prayers and healing vibes, messages, and services that have been offered up on our behalf. Each one of those makes a difference too:)

As far as how he's doing, you can watch a very extensive update that I shared about 10 days ago on Periscope HERE, but since that time some more complications have arisen that have his doctors very concerned. They instructed me to take him to the ER yesterday in hopes of relieving some of the pressure in his abdomen from the growing tumors, but were told that there was nothing they could do for him.

My sweetheart is so so sick, and every day his fight gets harder and harder. Nothing could have prepared me for this, and it crushes all of us to see his body change and weaken, and his mind so confused. But even through the pain in his eyes, I can still see this strong and brave man that I love more than anything.

We have tickets to return to the hospital in Houston, TX next week for more scans and tests, as well as another round of his immunotherapy treatment if all goes as planned. In the meantime, we are doing everything we can to keep him nourished and resting, and praying for him to keep strong and hopeful.

Thank you again and again for so much continued support and encouragement. We're incredibly blessed to have such a huge and loving group of friends.

xoxo,

my little foxes and I

If you saw our little Mother's Day photoshoot from last week, then this video is a fun pairing to those:) I've never had anyone videotape me before, let alone having tickle fights with my kids, and I'm absolutely in love with how this video from Moonstruck Pictures turned out:)

When people ask me how I'm doing or how I'm staying so positive, it always comes back to my children.
From the beginning there was Evie's little bouncing presence in my belly when we heard the word 'cancer' for the first time, feeling her wiggles as I sat alone in Mexico waiting for test results, her birth- right after we got home that pulled us out of the nightmare and into happiness once again. And that's just the youngest.

Every single day there are so many things to do as a mom that distract me from my thoughts and keep me moving constantly, so much so that I don't really have time to sink very low even if I wanted to. Every single day there are a thousand tight hugs and slobbery kisses, there's hair braiding and book reading, cartoon snuggles, cheerio sweeping, bed making, and so many many tickle fights(obviously). We also have our fair share of tantrums and hair pulling, crayon stealing, drink throwing and time-outs, FYI.haha All of that mothering, on top of taking care of Martin's every need keeps me far too busy to lose it.
So I keep it together, with tickle fights:) 

Life Lately via IG || Martin's ER visit, Houston hospital, etc

Hello my friends. I know that many of you reading this already follow along in other places like Instagram, Facebook, Periscope, etc, and if so than this post probably won't bring any fresh news for you. If you don't follow else-ware, a lot has happened since my last post and I'll share those bullet points right here. I should say first though that Instagram is the place to go for the most recent updates, as it's the fastest and easiest way for me to reach the most of my internet family as well as most of my regular family and friends all at once. That being said, I'll go into much more detail as soon as I can on the blog, but here is what I've been sharing lately:

Sunday. April 3rd

Currently I'm waiting in our emergency room while Martin is getting a CT scan:/ For those of you interested, after his last visit to the hospital where he's been getting treated (stage 4 melanoma), he had some miraculous results where most of the tumors/cancer lesions were gone, but his liver in particular was very riddled and in bad shape. He's been bed-ridden since he got back with pain from the treatment (which is usual for the first while), but the last couple days have gotten so bad that I decided to take him to the hospital. He's showing signs of liver failure, but the worst pain could also be appendicitis or something of the sort. I'll do my best to keep updating when we know more.  Love you all, and your support and encouragement means the world to us ♡♡♡ • I'm going to try to periscope more updates and maybe a Q&A etc, as we make decisions and such as well (it's a live broadcasting app), so feel to find me over there as Emily Meyers or @TheFreckledFox ♡♡♡ || #cancer #melanoma #livercancer #keeppositive #mysweetheart

A photo posted by Emily Meyers (@thefreckledfox) on Apr 3, 2016 at 1:51pm PDT

Monday, April 4th

We're so so blown away with all the love and prayers and positive energy that's been sent our way! Having such a huge tribe behind us has been a tremendous blessing throughout all of this♡♡♡ || We were given the news that it was indeed the growing cancer in his liver causing the pain, but we asked to go home last night and are moving forward with our previous plans to go to the MD Anderson Cancer Center in TX! We're prepping to fly tomorrow, and were having a little planning meeting in the car when Evie fell asleep on his lap:) ♡♡♡ #somuchlove #sweetbabygirl #cancerfighter #myheart #keepsmiling

A photo posted by Emily Meyers (@thefreckledfox) on Apr 4, 2016 at 6:17pm PDT

Wednesday, April 6th

Yesterday I took five little pieces of my heart and dropped them them off at some very sweet local family and friends before heading to the airport. It's always so hard to leave them, and it's been a rough and unpredictable couple of days so far, but it makes all the difference knowing our sweet babies are all safe and sound back home. ❥❥❥❥❥ P.s. every single comment, message, share, etc is read and appreciated more than I can say:) More updates to come. || #myheart #familyisforever #cancerfighters #fivebabies #missinghome #texas

A photo posted by Emily Meyers (@thefreckledfox) on Apr 6, 2016 at 9:42pm PDT

Thursday. April 7th

We watched the reflection of the beautiful sunset on the buildings across the street in downtown Houston tonight:) We have a big meeting tomorrow at the hospital, and then hopefully a restful weekend for him before jumping into it on Monday! || p.s. So so grateful to all the locals who have so generously offered so much. I'll keep you posted! #Houston #missinghome #sweetfriends #soblessed #freckledfoxfamily #watchingamericanidolfinale :)

A photo posted by Emily Meyers (@thefreckledfox) on Apr 7, 2016 at 5:55pm PDT

Saturday, April 9th

Even with all the different emotions I've been feeling, it's impossible not to see the beauty in this city. Martin's medication has him pretty out of it, but his best friend Kent flew out to surprise him and help me a bit, and we took Martin outside the hotel into the sunshine and the warm breeze, and it was a good day:) || #mysweetheart #cancerfighter #houston #sunnyday #silverlinings #grateful

A photo posted by Emily Meyers (@thefreckledfox) on Apr 9, 2016 at 7:28pm PDT

Sunday, April 10th

I got to talk to Lydia(my 2-year-old) last night on skype, and I think it actually makes it harder, seeing them that way when we can't be together:( Right before we left though, I put on my favorite necklace that my sweet friend Mary from @madebymarywithlove surprised me with, and I haven't taken it off since. One bar has the words 'emily + martin' on it, and the other has all the kids initials ('e ･ s ･ j ･ l ･ e' ), and it serves as a simple and constant reminder that my family will be together no matter what happens. || p.s. Your encouragement every day is such a blessing. Thank you:) || #blessed #sweetfriends #missinghome #madebymary #mamabear #treasures

A photo posted by Emily Meyers (@thefreckledfox) on Apr 10, 2016 at 5:23pm PDT

Monday, April 11th

Happy Anniversary to my sweetheart ♡♡♡. Definitely one for the books with doctors appointments, treatment options, blood work, MRIs, more CTs, so much paperwork, meds and IVs, etc, but I still feel so lucky to have spent the day with him, and to be loved by him. And then right before checking into the hospital tonight I turned up Michael Bublé in the car with the windows down, and we had a careful little slow dance in the parking garage. || More updates tomorrow and some hopeful news- Your love and prayers have made all the difference ♡♡♡ || #anniversary #lovehim #cancerfighters #grateful #missingourbabies #keepsmiling

A photo posted by Emily Meyers (@thefreckledfox) on Apr 11, 2016 at 9:31pm PDT

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I hope you don't mind my sharing these posts this way, but Martin is in the OR currently having a biopsy done on the tumors in his liver, and actually it's the first chance I've had to update here despite my good intentions and hopes of keeping better records.

The most amazing part of seeing these posts all in a row, is knowing that each of those hundreds of comments are so full of love and support and encouragement, which has been such an incredible blessing through all of this. Someone commented with curiosity last week about why I would share something so personal with strangers, but I don't see it that way at all.

I've been pretty open here about Martin and my families journey with his cancer from the beginning(nearly a year ago now), and as I said above, not only do most of my real life family and friends follow along here, but I really see my supporters/followers as my internet family. Many of you have expressed benefits from sharing in that part of our life, and at the same time I know that that same encouragement and all those prayers have played a such a massive part in helping us keep strong emotionally and mentally, etc. You've been understanding and respectful of our space and the breaks I take often, but you're right back here with me every time I find my way to a keyboard and hit publish.

Thank you so much.

Be back soon,