Yesterday it became obvious that "we were to the point" that shaving Steven's head was becoming almost necessary.
After waking up without a headache or a fever, and finding that his blood counts didn't require him to receive blood today, Steven was feeling good about his current situation. It might have been that extra positivity that led him to feel that today he was strong enough to face the inevitable.
He admitted to holding out hope that he would be in that small percentage of people that didn't lose their hair from chemo. However, after last night's shower, it was obvious he wasn't.
After some discussion we decided that when weighing the options of doing it after the kids had visited, but weren't present, vs. doing it with their help, involving them in the process made more sense to us.
We knew that Steven wasn't the only one dreading this part of cancer.
It would be this portion of the process that would be the first visible sign that daddy wasn't well. It would be the first visible sign that daddy was currently fighting the biggest battle of his life.
This scared the kids, and I believe it scared Steven.
And although I didn't show it, I know it scared me.
Looking at Steven had been one of my biggest sources of comfort.
He LOOKED healthy and it was hard to believe that he would ever come up against anything stronger than he was, especially when he looked as tough as ever.
But it was time. Handfulls of hair didn't do much for his confidence and if he finally decided it was time, then it was time.
The kids helped.
We originally went with a mohawk...you know, just because we could.
And then the kids slicked it on off.
I wasn't surprised to find that he was as handsome as ever....and that he looked just as tough.
Maybe even tougher.
He decided to hang on to the mustache a little longer and the kids agreed.
They aren't ready to see that go.
With a hat on he still looks like the same old Steven.
But after seeing him interact with the kids- playing, giving Lakyn a back rub, being the finish line in an outside race, and lifting them emotionally to the point they didn't care whether daddy had hair or not, I reminded myself that without a strand of hair on his body, Steven would continue to be my strength.
It wasn't his physical strength, or the appearance of it, that I had depended on after all.
It is his God given, mental and emotional strength, that, in my eyes, makes him invincible, and cancer doesn't stand a chance against that.