Brain Surgery: Our Family's Journey

Well, friends, this is not a brand-new journey by any means.  Posting this may seem random to all of you, but it has been on my heart to share for a long, long time.  I've mentioned bits and pieces, here and there over the years. I've tried writing this blog post--starting and stopping-- about a million times it seems. 

Often, I could not find the words. Many times, I was afraid to say anything. Other times we were just making it day by day.  But, I've finally reached a place where I can share these words openly: 

About 4 years ago, our little boy had brain surgery.

His surgery is a part of the fabric of our family's dynamic; it is a part of our story. It is a testimony in my son's life that he doesn't fully realize that he has.  It is a witness of the goodness of God, and it is a faith walk we are continuing to travel on. This post is a mama's account of the way things unfolded.

Be prepared for the longest blog post you've ever read.  

It may be too detailed for some to read through--I get it. It may be disjointed at times, but I'm pressing on with it. I'm putting this experience into words because we went through this; my son went through this and it still effects us today. . . and because in the midst of uncertainty, trials, pain, and disappointment, God still gets the glory. God is sovereign and we are in His hands.  Prayerfully, you will be inspired and reminded in some way to remain steadfast and hopeful as I attempt to represent the faithfulness of God.

Timeline of Events

Year 2016 

This year was a good year, full of some sweet blessings.  I share this because we were in a celebratory mood of sorts all year long and weren't quite prepared for what was ahead.

This year got off to an amazing start with a MAJOR extended family reconciliation, which I am so thankful for. 

In May, Husband and I welcomed our 7th child into the world--a sweet baby girl. (You can read about her birth story HERE.)

And, just 5 weeks after she was born, we celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary with a loving vow renewal and reception, surrounded by our family and friends. (You can read about that amazing day HERE.)

Fall came, and we had the opportunity to spend Thanksgiving with my side of the family in Indiana.  One of THE best family trips ever!

Me and my younger brother
(and my baby girls #6 and #7) 

It was also during this year that the LORD began to move in our little boy's heart; he was 4 years old at the time. He asked very pointed questions about Heaven and Hell, love and forgiveness, right and wrong, and told us that when he turned 5, he thought he would be ready to get baptized. 

We expressed to him what it meant to be baptized in the Faith and that it was a serious but precious decision, but one that could only come after a confession of faith in Jesus Christ. (We gave him the 4 year old version.)  There were a series of conversations that seemed to pop up and so we had them and answered his questions as life rolled along. 

December 6th 2016

My rainbow baby wasn't a little baby anymore; he turned 5 years old.  There's something about my children's 5th birthdays that tug at this mama's heart.  He was busy growing right on up, loving the idea of being in Kindergarten and getting to "do History" along with his siblings.

December 25th 2016

We celebrated the Birth of Jesus and just enjoyed each other's company that day. Husband orchestrated our yearly scavenger hunt for the children, which always leads to a big box of tasty goodies.

Reading the next clue

Hard to see, but they found the box of treats.

Sister and brother enjoying juice together

From mountain high to valley low.

Tuesday, December 27th 2016

We will never forget this day.  

Husband was on vacation and we had been enjoying a stretch of slow mornings.  That morning, somewhere between 6 and 7 am, everyone was still in bed.  I heard my son crying in his room and I asked him from my room, "J----, what's wrong?" No answer, but he was still crying.  

Coming closer, I asked from the hallway, "J----, what's wrong?" No answer; he just kept on crying. I got to his bedside, wondering if he was crying in his sleep, and I said again, "J----, why are you crying? What's wrong?" The crying continued, but at this point I realized it was a strange, sort of rhythmic crying, almost like a baby doll--the same cry over and over. I turned the light on, wondering, is he stuck, because he never stopped crying and he never turned toward my voice. 

I turned the lights on and realized he was having a seizure.

His right arm and right leg were moving, jerking in tandem, and he was crying. I called out to my Husband, "I think J---- is having a seizure, call 911!" We'd never experienced something like this before, so 911 was all I could think of. 

I gathered him in my arms. Panicking, but trying not to panic, I sat on the floor with him and prayed. Husband came in with the 911 operator on the phone, and we did what she said: lay him on the floor, turn his head to one side, and wait.  Just wait until the seizure passes. . .

So, we waited, and we talked to him and told him we were there. His crying began to stop, but the jerking continued for some time, then it slowed, then it finally stopped. About 10 minutes or so in all.  My son was completely coherent, able to tell us what had happened to him.

By this point, the paramedics arrived; they checked his vitals, all except his temperature. They told me that he "felt warm" and that he must have just experienced a febrile seizure (one caused by a high fever, common in infants and young children). They said they could transport him to the hospital, or we could get in touch with our own pediatrician.

We were still in shock at the whole ordeal, unsure about the seizure, and yet not convinced it was a febrile seizure.  We allowed the paramedics to carry him out to the ambulance, thinking we should go to the hospital. My sweet boy was thrilled that he was getting the chance to see the inside of the ambulance (the beauty of childhood innocence!) and he asked a ton of questions about all of the equipment. 

The paramedics told us again that he "felt warm" and probably just needed Tylenol. I knew this just wasn't right and asked them to take his temperature so we would know for sure what it was. He didn't feel warm to me (mama intuition), no one else was sick in the family, and none of us had ever suffered from seizures of any kind. They told me they weren't equipped with thermometers, so they couldn't take his temperature. What??  I couldn't believe that! 

After discussing different options, and Husband and I decided that we would follow up with our own pediatrician instead of the ambulance ride to the hospital. As we were on our way back into the house, one of the EMT's pointed up to the sky.

A rainbow against a gray sky. 

God's holy promise. A sign of His love. He was right there.

I called the urgent care line and got in touch with the pediatrician on-call for that day: it was our own pediatrician, whom we've known since our oldest was a year old.  God's grace.  She called me directly and told me, "Don't bother going to urgent care. I've already scheduled you with a pediatric neurologist this afternoon. The urgent care doctors would send him to the neurologist anyway, so just go directly there instead." She also told me that the description of his seizure did not correspond with a febrile seizure at all. 

About 4 pm, we walked into the neurologist's office, with our 4 littlest children (at that time) in tow.  I snapped a picture of one of the decals on the wall in the waiting room.  God is there all the time.

The neurologist determined from a thorough examination that our boy looked great. He responded well to about 2 hours worth of testing. He was even able to describe what his seizure was like, which amazed her because he had retained some level of consciousness during that experience. Her preliminary thoughts were that he'd had a type of seizure that may recur but that he would grow out of by age 10 or so. She ordered an EEG for the following morning to confirm this. She gave us the run-down on how to respond to seizures in the event that he had another. We went home a bit disheveled but grateful nonetheless.

A very long day.

Wednesday, December 28th 2016 

Next morning, we took our son in to have the EEG and again, he was thrilled by all the machinery. A true 5 year old! He asked all the questions, and the technician answered them all and endearingly called my little boy "Champ" throughout the testing. After it was over, my son said to me, "Mama, he really liked me because he kept calling me 'Champ'!" That's what you are, son, by God's grace, that is what you are. "Yet in all these things, we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us." Romans 8:37

The EEG results came back with very strong brain activity on the left side of his brain, which coincided with the right-sided body movements during the seizure. 

This did not fit the pattern of the type of seizure 

the neurologist thought he had. 

That meant further testing was required, so she ordered an MRI to check the structure of his brain. She also suggested anti-seizure medication, but the potential side-effects of the medication were terrible and really concerned us. If you knew my son, you would know that he is SUPER bubbly and bright, SUPER active, yet SUPER sweet and we didn't want who he was to change. So, she recommended we hold off on the medication and if he had another seizure, we could revisit the decision at that time.  She knew that we were a homeschooling family and felt comfortable with knowing that he was being watched round the clock by his own family. Yay, homeschooling!!

The next 3 weeks were spent in a bit of limbo, sprinkled with fear, just waiting for the MRI appointment and wondering whether or not he would have another seizure.  We limited his physical activity and anything else we thought might bring a seizure on, wondering what could possibly be going on with his brain. He was just five years old.

I prepped him for the first of many MRI's.

Saturday, January 14th 2017

We rode into the city for the MRI. This medical center had Saturday hours if the MRI did not require sedation. They were supposed to provide our boy with special goggles so he could watch a movie, encouraging him to be as still as possible. He had an idea of what to expect based off of a few YouTube videos I found, so he was ready. 

We arrived and found out the goggles were broken, but none of that bothered him. He laid there perfectly still and listened to nursery rhymes instead. The radiology tech couldn't believe how well he did.

After the MRI, no one would tell us anything. We tried to get some indication of what was going on--anything--but everyone was tight-lipped.  In the sleet and the cold, we went on home, with a parking ticket for having parked in the wrong place, grateful to make it through the day.

That night at bedtime, I was privy to one of the most beautiful things in the world: my little boy came into our room, asking his father to pray with him. He bowed his head to ask forgiveness of sin and to receive the LORD Jesus as His Lord and Savior.  Right there on our bedroom floor, they knelt together and prayed.  Oh, the precious blood of Jesus!

Sunday, January 15th 2017

Next morning, Husband walked with our son down the aisle at church, before the Body, to make his public confession of faith in Christ.  Praise God, praise God!

Monday, January 16th 2017

The neurologist was supposed to call us with the result of the MRI.  So we waited and waited with most of the day gone by. Nerve-wrecking, right?! Early evening, around 4:30 or so, Husband told me he was going to pick up pizza for dinner and that he'd be right back.  Of course, while he was gone, the neurologist called! Let me tell you, I was not prepared for what rolled out of her mouth:

Your son has a brain tumor and he's going to need surgery.

She proceeded to tell me the medical terminology for the type of tumor it was (a name so long, it goes by an acronym), how they normally treat it, where the surgery could take place and on and on. One sentence after another, one medical term after another, and I could barely keep pace with all the information she kept giving.  It didn't even matter what medical knowledge I'd gained all those years in college--I could not comprehend one bit except brain tumor and surgery. 

At that point, it was a struggle to breathe and to not pass out.  Husband walked through the door, saw my face and he knew right away: this was heavy news.  He got on the phone with me and really impressed upon the doctor that we needed her to slow down, because we were overwhelmed.  We sorted out what she was saying together: 

A benign tumor, which had been slowly growing 

most likely since birth, was now large enough 

to apply pressure on his brain, causing the seizure. 

It was the size of a plum.

One of my daughters captured this pic of me a few days later.
This was pretty much my face for days: prayer and deep thought.

The neurologist referred us to a pediatric neurosurgeon at the children's hospital. The neurosurgeon ordered an additional MRI which he wanted done before he saw our son. So, the rest of the week was spent back and forth on the phone, trying to coordinate these two appointments.  Long story short, MRI availability wasn't until the end of February, which would put our appointment with the neurosurgeon at the beginning of March. 

That seemed too long to wait! 

I mean, no one just wants brain surgery, but when it's needed, you want it done because you want things to be fixed and everything to be alright. We wanted our son to be alright. In the meantime, I called the children's hospital every day to see if there were cancellations.  One day, I spoke with a lady who said she would "keep our son's name in front of her" as she scheduled patients and would call us if there was a cancellation. I thanked her for her kindness, but I honestly doubted that she would call.

Sunday, January 22nd 2017

Our sweet boy was baptized after Sunday morning worship.  You can read about that beautiful day HERE.  After he was baptized, he grinned and said to me, "Mommy, I am a brother of the Lord!" Yes, you are son! God brought about a truly joyous occasion in the midst of all the fear.  Grace and mercy.  Joy in sorrow.

Mama, siblings, and a few cousins gathered to witness his baptism.
Daddy was on the other side, waiting for him to get out of the water.

Baptism day, at bedtime--he was still smiling, which made me smile, too.

Thursday, January 26th 2017 

Well, guess what? That sweet woman in scheduling called me back with an opening for our son's MRI. That meant we didn't have to wait until the end of February.  That also meant that some other parent had to cancel their child's scan in order for my son to be seen.  That point wasn't lost on us, so we prayed for that child's health and healing. So, the Thursday after his baptism, my little boy had his 2nd MRI, this time with sedation, so that he would be completely still and the images would be as clear as possible. 

The ceiling in the sedation room was decorated with stars and the anesthesiologists told him that he was the pilot, ready for take off.  A cool way for him to drift off, but it tugged at my heart big time, as they escorted me away from his bedside with all the tears flowing.  He came through like a champ and we held our breath for the following day: the appointment with the neurosurgeon.

Homeschooling was still going along--although heavily modified--but still pushing forward.
We'd been counting up to 100 days and celebrated reaching our goal.
The children celebrated with some fun snacks.

Friday, January 27th 2017

Because the MRI was moved up, the neurosurgeon graciously agreed to see us first thing the following day.  He came in full of warmth, personality, and with a confidence that literally filled the room, which was like a balm for our weariness.  He did not have a "beat around the bush" demeanor, but was very direct and straight-forward, to the point with the greatest of care and concern.  We greatly appreciated that in the midst of so much uncertainty.  Not that our faith had shifted from God to man, but we knew God caused this guy to be our son's neurosurgeon, and we recognized His hand in this very moment.  Glory to God!

So, he had already reviewed the results of the MRI, he knew what he'd seen and what needed to be done. He showed us the images (the first time we'd seen them) and before he gave even one word of explanation, we could see for ourselves that something was terribly wrong.  

A brain isn't supposed to look like that. 

The surgeon pointed out all the particulars and answered a TON of questions from us.  His advice was that the plum-sized tumor had to be removed because of the neurological impairments it could cause as time went on.  It had grown large enough to cause a seizure and he said we wouldn't want to wait for additional problems.  The potential problem with surgery, however, was that the tumor was located where my son's speech could be affected, and there was a risk that after surgery, our son could suffer difficulty in communicating and/or difficulty with understanding language.  Help, Lord Jesus!

With the risks and benefits discussed, we prayerfully gave our consent to surgery and asked what time frame we should consider.  The surgeon said "he didn't mean to be presumptuous" but informed us that he'd already placed our son on his surgery schedule for Tuesday, January 31st, first appointment of the day.  Just four days away!  We were pretty surprised but very grateful for how the LORD was ordering our steps throughout this process.  

We cried, we rejoiced, we were scared, and we prayed.  Our boy had to begin taking anti-seizure medication twice per day, in preparation for the surgery, which he would continue to take for another year or so.  Anyway, we spent the next few days prepping our son for what was to happen to him, as well as informing our other children and coordinating their care.  We were unsure of how long we needed help because we didn't know how long his hospital recovery would take.  But, we pushed forward: prepped meals, wrote down daily routines, and got ourselves ready for surgery day.  

Sunday, January 29th 2017
Our regular "Sunday Cook-day" was beefed up a bit
so that we'd have several meals in queue.
My Husband's parents stopped by after church and
stood in the kitchen with us and prayed.

Tuesday, January 31st 2017 

Brain surgery was first thing in the morning.  

Everything was hard that day: 

getting myself up and dressed, forcing one foot in front of the other; 

waking my little boy up in pre-dawn darkness; no food or water for him, no brushing teeth; 

readying him for brain surgery, reminding him there was a bump on the inside that needed to come out; re-telling him the account of the deep sleep God bestowed upon Adam; 

leaving my other children, especially my baby at the time, who was 8 months old and totally still breastfeeding .  . . everything was hard.  

The day before, my mother-in-law described it as my Husband and I "leaving the 99 to take care of the 1 who needed us most."  

So hard, but necessary.  

I am thankful for my Husband's father who met us at 5 am that morning so we could head to the hospital before the traffic, and for his mother who came later on that evening.  I am so grateful for my friend (a true sister to me) who came to take a shift in watching my children that week.  That means she left her own children (homeschoolers) for the day to be with mine.  I am grateful for my mother, who came in across the miles to be with us; and for my brother who flew across the country to be with my dad, so my mom could come here.  The children would be covered for at least a week.

We arrived at the children's hospital about 30 minutes early.  And we prayed over our son while sitting in the truck in the parking garage.  LORD, please keep him safe, guide the hands of the doctors and nurses, let the procedure be safe and efficient, let him recover with the full ability to speak and understand language, keep him alive, oh Great Physician. . .

We went in just as nervous as could be, but trusting God every step of the way.

The neurosurgeon met us in the waiting room, calm and comfortable, reassuring and confident, super friendly toward us and our son, just as he had been a few days before.  Again, his attitude was a balm to our tattered souls. I hope I am explaining his disposition accurately.  We were rattled; he was not.  We were jumpy; he was not.  We were teary; he could smile.  God used him to strengthen us when our knees were knocking.  

He took out a purple marker and asked our son if he could put an X on the left side of his head. My son just found that to be the coolest thing ever, so he said yes!  We all headed back to the prep area.

Watching TV and a little coloring before surgery.

Surgery took several hours, and all we could do was pray, wait, and prop each other up.  Because I was still breastfeeding, the hospital staff supplied a breast pump so I could pump while we were there.  So, I did that--"do the next thing"--which was a blessed distraction.  We watched the news on the waiting room TV without knowing what was being reported, just images on the screen going by.  Waiting and waiting, checking the information board for his name, checking the hand-held buzzer continuously to see if we missed a notification from the nurse.  Waiting and waiting, and prayers. . .

Then, our pediatrician walked through the door to sit and wait with us for a while.  She was sent from the Father.  We've known her since our oldest child was 17 months old.  She sat with us and talked us through questions and concerns. She brought us homemade goodies and stayed as long as she could, leaving me with her personal contact information for any support we needed and willing us to eat.  What doctor do you know that will show up to sit and wait with you, and feed you, too? What a blessing she is to our family. God is always there!

Later That Day

By early afternoon, surgery was finally complete. Praise God!  He made it through surgery!  The neurosurgeon came out to discuss the particulars.  Overall, the surgery itself was successful. Our son spent about 45 minutes in surgical recovery, then was taken to the pediatric intensive care (PICU), due to the nature of his surgery.  

We were finally able to get in the room with him.  We stood by his bedside, waiting for him to wake up.  We wondered if he would be able to talk to us and whether or not he would understand what we said to him.  As he began to wake, Husband and I began to talk to him.  He briefly opened his eyes, but seemed like he would prefer to rest, rather than talk to us.  I rubbed his leg and just stared at him.  I couldn't believe he'd just been through brain surgery.  Someone had seen and touched the inside of my child's head.

Husband asked him rapid fire questions, back-to-back: how he was feeling, whether he was hot or cold, and if he needed more blankets, all the while covering him with extra blankets. Our son opened his eyes, looked at his father and said, 

"Daddy, I'm good."

I'll never forget those words. Immediately, tears of praise, thanksgiving, joy and release began to flow. We paused to give God the glory, right in that very moment! Our son could speak to us and understand us, both blessings from the Most High.  God is so good!

He stayed in the PICU two days, with all the doctors and nurses coming and going constantly. He had to have another sedated MRI to see how his brain was responding to the surgery and to check on the healing process. They encouraged him to sit up for as long as he was comfortable, to watch movies, and to eat.  His first meal request was a turkey sandwich with cheese.  He ate every bit of it!

Watching The Incredibles--this movie was his favorite while here and he watched it several times. 
Once, while he was napping, another child asked to watch it, which was fine with us.
My son was not happy about that when he woke up. LOL
You still have to learn the importance of sharing, even in the hospital, buddy!

While in the PICU, I must mention that there were other children who needed care as well.  There's a bond and a compassion from one family to another because we know what it's like to have a child who isn't well. 

Next to us was a baby girl who had some sort of digestive tract surgery.  She cried and cried every time the docs and nurses came to tend to her, but she was quieted and calm when watching The Little Mermaid and we knew that movie was everything for her.  And hummed along to Kiss the Girl every time we heard it.  We prayed for her healing and for her mother's strength.  

Across from us was a little boy, about 2 or 3 years old, who had been hit by a car and he cried out most of the time in pain.  Both of his parents were there by his side, and his mama was pregnant.  We prayed for them all: peace, healing, strength, rest and no pain. He was able to leave the PICU before we did. The hand of the LORD.

My son progressed and he was moved to a regular room.  There, he got the chance to get up, move around some, and play a little bit.  A rehab therapist came to assess his abilities and to show us what we needed to do for his care at home, how to help him dress, shower and so forth.  Based upon the assessments, his ability to eat, speak, and understand well, the doctors were ready to discharge him some time the following day.  He was doing well. Praise God! 

Playing a video game in his hospital room.

Toys and games down the hall in the play room.

Thursday, February 2nd 2017

Next morning, time to go home!!! 

We were physically and emotionally exhausted, but so grateful to God for His wonder-working power!! 

While we were at the hospital, praying for my son's healing, we weren't sure how long his stay would last, which meant we didn't know how much care our other children would need.  So to know that my son was getting to go home while we had enough care secured for our other children was a great blessing to us.

Before the official discharge order was processed, my in-laws left and my sweet friend had come to be with my children.  I am forever grateful for her motherly touch that soothed my anxious baby and got her to eat better and to get some peaceful sleep.  I'm grateful for her beautiful presence in my home because all my children agreed that "when Mrs. K came, everything was better!"  They had experienced their own set of stresses and anxieties, my poor children, and we fleshed those out in the coming days. 

By the time we arrived home, my mother had made it from out of town to help out as well.  When she walked through the door, my children told us they were so excited to have their Abuela with them and were so glad to know we were on our way home.  God provided the exact amount of cartg6e we needed for my other children, keeping them safe while we were away.

My mother and my baby girl.  

She patted my baby right on to sleep with all that grandmotherly love.

This mama needed her own mama to do that for her.  I am so grateful.

I was so glad to be home with all of my children.  We just needed our family at home and together again. I knew my baby girl hadn't been eating or sleeping well and by the time we got home, she had a low-grade fever.  I was so relieved to get back to nursing her and ditch the breast pump, and give her a good dose of mothering.  For weeks to come, she would not let me out of her sight.

That night, we called a family room sleep-over.  My mother went on upstairs to bed; she said that we needed some time to be together as a family and she urged us to get some rest. But, she wanted us to know that she was ready if we needed her for anything.  I must also mention that my mother is a Registered Nurse, so not only was her love a comfort to us, but so was her medical knowledge, too.

I tried to capture all 9 of us in the pic in some way.
Fresh from the hospital, my little boy slept on the couch, with his Daddy right by his side.
I was on the opposite couch with the baby.
The rest of the kids were piled up on the floor  between us.
Popcorn, a movie, some sleep and all the love.



Our son, a few days after coming home.


*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *   *

A few pics of the journey. . . 

While he healed and baby girl got through a touch of separation anxiety,
this was the sleep set-up for quite a while.

 

Incision site about a week or so after surgery.

Sutures are out and he has a permanent scar on the left side,
which he calls "his number 1".

It healed very well, and some say it is difficult to see if his hair has grown some.

Mama and Daddy will forever know exactly where it is,

especially Daddy since he does the boys' haircuts.

Waiting on the train to head into the city for one of his appointments.
He always asked if this particular little sister
could go with him to each of his appointments.
She just made it easier for him to handle things. 
She's gone to every single one,
until COVID restrictions came about.

He got a hold of Mama's phone during one of his appointments,
clicking pictures while the neurosurgeon was talking to us.

The interactive screen in the lobby.



Sedation means no breakfast for him on an MRI day.
After the MRI, he has to be seen by one of the specialists.
While we wait for the doctor, he get's to snack on his favorite:
A turkey sandwich.


Tired of being poked and prodded.
Wishing he could go home.

A typical MRI day. . .waiting for him to wake up after sedation.

Some days, we got silly faces!

*    *   *   *   *   *  *  Update  *   *   *   *   *   *

My handsome boy turned 9 years old in December of 2020.  He is thriving and doing well, growing up strong, brave, and tender-hearted.  He enjoys lots of laughter, playing sports and games with his siblings, and he is growing in the LORD.

His 9th Birthday

Over the course of 4 years, my son has had so many MRIs, too many to count, with several doctor's appointments to accompany each MRI--he has a team of 5 to 7 doctors assigned to his case.  He's gone from an MRI every 2-3 months, to one every 6 months, and now to once per year.  The MRI's used to be with sedation every. single. time.  But now, he's at a point where no sedation is required.  Praise God, there is progress.

The reason behind the frequency of MRI's was two-fold: 1) to check for proper signs of healing after the surgery--the healing process for the brain is a long one, unlike some other parts of the body; and 2) because there was always an area of concern.  The area of his brain where the tumor was removed went through a colorful process of healing.  It was not always straightforward and was often not what we expected, but overall the surgery site has healed completely.  Praise the Lord!  

On the other hand, this area of concern has revealed what I had hoped to never hear.

The doctors have determined 

that there is either residual or recurrent tumor 

in the same place in his brain.

They are recommending surgery . . . again . . . eventually . . .at some point . . . down the road.  The MRI's over the years have shown very, very slow growth, so there's no rush, but growth nonetheless.  Not what this mama wants to hear.  Help, Lord Jesus!!  

The doctors are hoping that the growing will stop, "just turn itself off" is the phrase they used. Some tumors of this nature have the capacity to become dormant.  However, should that not be the case, surgery is recommended before any neurological complications arise.  It's a tightrope walk of faith, trying to decide when to do what, and what is best for him overall. . . while he's still at home and under our covering . . ..rather than possibly carry a problem forward into adulthood. Heal, Lord Jesus!! 

Though we don't have all of the answers, we put our faith in the One who is Faithful and True.

First day of 4th grade
Homeschool Year 2020-2021

So, that is my son's story, our family's story--a story of faith in God and God's faithfulness to us.  If you feel so inclined by the Holy Spirit, please pray for my son, for his health and his healing.  Thank you.