Telling the children...

There are no words to describe how gut-wrenching telling the kids was. Trying to be brave yet letting them know that we will need their help and that it would be a long year. Doing what "they" had said when I researched telling your children you have cancer until 5 in the morning the night before. Using the word cancer. Letting them know they didn't do anything to cause it. I didn't either. Assuring them we are a team in this process and that I will be honest with them and that we all need to work together. It was horrible. Ellie (11) just burst into tears and cried. Sarah (8) just shrank ten times her size. You could see her physically close herself into a shell. she said nothing but just had silent tears running down her face. As expected, they both did reacted as we thought they would and it was just horrible. Henry (6) I think surprised us the most. As usual, we underestimated his reaction. You could tell he was immediately sad but asked the most questions.
"Do you have to take medicine that makes your hair fall out?" 
Yes
" you will look weird"
Probably
"It's good that Dad has a lot of hats!"
Yep sure is
"Will you have your operation at the hospital where I was born?"
Yes
"Can we visit you?"
I don't think so because you will probably be having too much fun with all of your cousins...
"Oh..." 
That night while putting him to bed, he just started sobbing. When asked what was the matter, he squeaked out " I don't want you to die because you make the BEST pancakes!!" 
Oh sweet boy... I didn't have the heart to tell him that McDonalds usually makes him those pancakes.
I would rather be remembered for my grilled chicken and veggies! :)
Margo (3) had no clue but knew something was wrong and that everyone was sad and kept rubbing my arm.

I can't ever remember such an overwhelming "momma bear" urge to protect my children. To put my arms around all of them and hold on tighter than ever before. To shelter them from all of this mess. To just grab them and run far,far away. But I can't, so I need to turn this fear into fight.
I know I can get through all of this thrown at me. I know I have the strength to do it. I am so sad and mad and disgusted that my children have to do it too, I can barely stand it. I know God has a plan for it all and I know they are resilient and I know that they will "deal" with what is thrown at them. But they should not have to do this. I don't want them to have to. I don't want them to face this type of fear at their ages. It's just not fair. But as I tell the children " Fair is where you get cotton candy..."