“Sir, you have kidney tumor.” Those are words you never expect to hear. But there we were, standing in the doctor’s office, and he was saying them to my 32-year-old husband, Joel. I was 28. We had just run our first half-marathon. We were healthy, happy, and in love. The only thing wrong was some blood in his urine. We assumed it was kidney stones.
Courtesy of Sarah Rhodes
But it wasn’t. It was cancer. And it was thoughtful.
Who had imagined that next year will be hardest ever. Joel had an operation to take out the kidney where the cancer began. We traveled between Oklahoma and Houston for his treatment. He went through chemo. We spent most of our time at home to protect him from getting sick.
Courtesy of Sarah Rhodes
Our whole world became about enduring. I often wondered if we’d ever see the light again.
Then, after a year, we got the words we had waited for: remission. We were so thankful. We thought it was finally over. So we turned back to what we were focused on before cancer, having a baby.
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Infertility had been our first battle. For five years, we tried everything, doctors, tests, medicine. The doctors said we had no clear reason for our infertility and that IVF was the only path forward. We had already booked our first IVF appointment when cancer changed everything.
But we had frozen Joel’s sperm before chemo, knowing it could affect his fertility. So as soon as he was in remission, we went forward with IVF. And to our surprise, it worked the first time. I got pregnant with twins.
Courtesy of Sarah Rhodes
Sadly, we lost one baby at 11 weeks. I spent every day after praying that our other child would be born healthy. Near the end of my pregnancy, a scan showed a spot on Joel’s lung. We were scared. A biopsy confirmed what we feared: cancer was back.
Two days later Milo was born, we got the news. Joel began chemo again, this time while we were caring for a newborn. It was even harder than before. The chemo didn’t work this time, and Joel had to have part of his lung removed. But after the surgery, he suffered a stroke. He tried to recover, but then came another stroke… and another. On July 23, 2013, Joel passed away. He was only 35.
Courtesy of Sarah Rhodes
I was left a widow with a one-year-old son. I didn’t know how to go on. But I took one day at a time.
There was still one thing left. Before Joel died, we had two embryos from IVF. In the hospital, he had told me, “We’re going to have a girl. You know her name.” Ellis.
After talking to family and friends, I made the decision to try. If it was meant to happen, it would and it did. Eighteen months after Joel passed away, I found out I was pregnant and later welcomed a beautiful baby girl, Ellis Claire.
But our story didn’t end there.
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At two weeks old, Ellis became sick. She was weak and had a fever. We rushed to the hospital. Hours later, she was on a ventilator, diagnosed with sepsis and meningitis. Her brain scans were grim. Doctors told us the damage was too severe, she wouldn’t survive.
We were told to say goodbye. I held her skin-to-skin as they removed the machines. But then, something happened. She started to breathe on her own. Her vitals came back. The seizures stopped. The next day, we left the ICU. Nurses called her the “miracle baby.”
Today, Ellis is four. She’s in preschool, learning to walk with a little help. She talks, laughs, and lights up every room. She was supposed to be a vegetable. She’s anything but.
Three years after Joel died, I reconnected with my high school sweetheart, DeAngelo. We married and now raise our blended family of five. And the girl who couldn’t conceive? I naturally got pregnant. Our sixth baby was just born.
Courtesy of Sarah Rhodes
If you’re in the darkest place right now, please keep going. You don’t know what’s still ahead. Life can still surprise you in the most beautiful ways.
Nothing is ever too broken to be made new again. I’ve lived it and I’m thankful every single day.
