Prayers.

Babies are napping simultaneously in the room. There are sounds of machines beeping and babies crying in the next room over but all is calm in here. Michael and I are catching our breath, reading some Keller, snoozing between the pages.

Watts' fever is down, thanks to Tylenol, and zofran has helped his nausea. 

Dose #3 is running now. Two more hours to go. The smell of chemo seeps out of every pore, and his diapers reek like sulfar. Powerful stuff, that ARA-C. I envision it storming my son's body, smashing down doors, and hunting out every single lurking leukemia cell. No dark corner will be left unsearched, this will be the last battle. 

My prayer is that this is it. No more leukemia after this round. Granted, there is no way to check and test for those few lurking leukemia cells, no way to know for sure that it is all gone until we have years under our belt, but my prayer is that by tomorrow when this high dose chemo is finished, so will be the leukemia. That that one lone abnormal white blood cell will be wiped out and the battle won. Lord Jesus, please.

For myself and Michael, my prayer is a prayer that Michael prayed a few days ago...that we might not just have energy, but that we might have extra, abundant energy. This gig is tough. Hospital life is tough. Parenting in hospitals is tough. This is a marathon that I want to run well, not just survive. I need a lot, a lot, a lot of extra supernatural energy and patience.

My prayer for Piper is that she might know her papa's and my love without question. And with that love and affirmation that we might still have good and firm boundaries that she can depend on. And that she might not get sick being in this germy hospital all of time.

And for Watts, sweet warrior boy-- that he might continue to thrive and develop, even here in the hospital. That the side effects will be absolutely non-existent after the chemo is done. That he will know his papa and mama's love even in the midst of the blue gowns and needles and eye drops.

And a small thing, but I am praying that we will be out by Thanksgiving. That would just be icing on the cake.

Thank you to all of you who have prayed and are praying for us. It means so much.

[Just to doubly clarify, there is really no way to know if the leukemia is all the way gone and no way to shorten treatment. I am just praying that it will be. Watts will be in treatment for two more years, just a more outpatient, less-intense version.]