When Life Changes Overnight: Finding Strength in a Leukemia Diagnosis

Today is the one year mark from when Eli was first diagnosed with leukemia. I’ve read so many times that your body remembers grief and it’s been wild to experience that this last week. All the emotions have come flooding back. What a year it’s been.

Where It All Started

If I had to sum up the start of 2024 in one word, it’d be “sick” (and maybe “tired”). We kicked off the year with Covid, then Liv was hospitalized with Rhinovirus. By February, both kids were finally healthy, just in time for Sam and I to get away to Hawaii. Looking back, it was the biggest blessing—God knew we needed a recharge before things got tough. While we were away, Eli started showing symptoms.

For those who might not know-here are some of the most common signs of leukemia in children:

Symptoms of Leukemia in Children:

• Fatigue and Weakness – Due to anemia (low red blood cell count)
• Pale Skin
• Frequent Infections & Fevers – Increased susceptibility to infections due to low white blood cell function
• Easy Bruising and Bleeding:
  • Small red or purple spots on the skin (petechiae)
  • Frequent nosebleeds
  • Bleeding gums
  • Unexplained bruising
• Bone and Joint Pain – Often in arms, legs, back, or joints (caused by leukemia cells crowding the bone marrow)
• Swollen Lymph Nodes – Especially in the neck, armpits, or groin
• Abdominal Swelling or Pain – Due to an enlarged spleen or liver
• Loss of Appetite & Weight Loss – Often paired with low energy and fatigue

Eli’s Symptoms

Lots of people have asked how we knew something was wrong—but we really didn’t. After our trip, Eli showed signs of an ear infection. He’d finish antibiotics, then get another one. Liv went through the same thing the year before and improved with ear tubes, so I assumed Eli was headed down the same path.

Looking back, the leukemia symptoms were everywhere—we just didn’t recognize them for what they were.

He had started napping again, even though he had dropped naps months earlier. He said his legs hurt and he wanted to be carried everywhere.

I vividly remember President’s Day. He suddenly started screaming that his leg hurt so bad. We thought maybe it was just a cramp, so we rubbed it for about 30 minutes until he finally calmed down. He was pale all the time, constantly exhausted, but we chalked it up to back-to-back illnesses.

The week before his leukemia diagnosis, Sam and I noticed some bruising. We really didn’t think much of it. My mom was watching him for us one night, and noticed the bruises while helping him with a bath. When I picked him up, she mentioned them, later admitting it raised red flags since her cousin had passed away from leukemia as a child. I had already planned to take him in the next day for what I thought was another ear infection and figured I’d ask about the bruises then.

That night I was sitting in the kitchen looking up Eli’s symptoms on my phone. I half jokingly said “Sam, watch Eli have cancer”. We both paused. I so clearly remember Sam looking at me and I think we both felt it for a moment and then we just brushed it off.

Diagnosis

That next afternoon, I took Eli to our pediatrician. She checked for an ear infection—maybe the start of one—but nothing definite. Holding Eli on my lap, I got teary, explaining how unlike himself he’d been—so tired, so pale. Then I asked, “Do bruises ever make you nervous?” She paused. “Depends on where they are.” After I told her, she suggested labs, just to be safe. Bless her forever and ever. I’ve heard horror stories of missed symptoms. We went straight to the hospital for labs, then headed home.

We had dinner, and Sam took Liv to the park while Eli was taking a bath. I was on the phone with my dad about something when another call came in. I told him I’d call him right back and answered.

‘Hello, this is Emma.’

‘Emma, this is Dr. —. Is Sam there?’ My stomach instantly dropped.

‘No… no, he’s not.’

‘Oh Emma, I’m so sorry. It doesn’t look good. Eli has leukemia.’

The words didn’t seem real, and all I could say was, ‘Really? Oh, Dr. —. Are you sure?’

‘I’m so sorry, Emma. I’ve already called the hospital. You need to take him up there right now. They’re expecting you and will take such good care of him. I am so sorry.’

She handled that phone call with the most incredible grace and empathy. I’ll never forget it.

The next 20 minutes were some of the hardest of my life. Telling Sam was devastating. We know so much more now, but at that moment, we didn’t have any answers—just the overwhelming reality that our little boy had cancer.

Calling my dad back was surreal—we had just talked five minutes earlier, and now I was sobbing, telling him Eli had leukemia and to get Mom and come. Sam called his parents, which was just as awful. They all came running, helped us pack, got Liv settled, gave Eli a blessing, and then we were off.

The next week is a blur, and his official diagnosis of B Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia came through. Following the diagnosis, surgery was scheduled for his port insertion, and chemotherapy began immediately. I came down with a cold and was sicker than I have ever been. I can still feel what I felt like the day we left the hospital-on the verge of tears, my voice was gone, I had the biggest headache in the world, a binder of information, and was so incredibly scared.

I could spend forever talking about that first month, the first few months, this whole year. It’s had so many ups and downs (lots and lots and lots of downs) but we made it.

The Kindness That Carried Us

One of the most common questions we’ve received is what’s been most helpful during this time. Before I continue, I want to say that every message, prayer, gift, meal, dollar, and act of love helped us survive this last year. We’re incredibly grateful for all the support, and we couldn’t have made it through without our village. I also want to mention that what’s been helpful for us may not be the same for others. Here’s what’s been most helpful from our perspective.

Prayers and Messages

I have every single text message saved in my phone and every card written saved in a box. I actually went back the other day to look through them and I just bawled. We read every single one and they got me through those especially dark days in the beginning. Don’t hesitate to send the text. Even if they don’t respond, they will read it and it will lift them up.

Monetary

This one feels a little weird, and I hope I handle it okay. Sam and I are incredibly blessed with great insurance and a job that provides so much security. We’ve been so grateful for that. Even with all that support, though, I’ve been amazed by the relief and gratitude I’ve felt when receiving gifts like this. At the same time, there’s been a sense of guilt and unworthiness that comes with it, and I’m still working through that. It has been such a blessing and truly humbling to be a steward over these gifts and to use them wisely. If you were to ask me what would be most helpful for someone else in a similar situation, I would always say messages and prayers, and if you can, send them a Venmo.

Meals/Food/Door Dash

One of the first gifts we started receiving was door dash gift cards. And to be totally honest, I was like-there is now way in heck we will use all of this. You better believe we used every penny. They saved us during the Induction phase of treatment when all Eli wanted was chicken nuggets or Little Caesars pizza at all different hours of the day. 

Our neighbor set up a meal chain for that first month and that saved us as well. Not having to think about dinner was such a blessing. 

I had multiple neighbors text me “I’m going to the store what do you need” and it was such a gift to have them snag me some things.

Support for Sam and I

I’ve told Sam so many times that if something similar happens to someone I’m close to, I’m going to really try and babysit for them so they can go out every so often. We’ve had some close family members do this for us and I’m not being dramatic when I say it has saved our marriage.

Getting Away

I hesitate to put this on here, because I know it’s not possible for so many cancer families, but one of the biggest blessings this last year was being able to get away from the cancer world every so often. Our family was falling apart in May of last year and a literal angel made it possible for us to go to St. George for a few days. I don’t think I can put into words how much this trip saved us. It gave all of us the boost we needed to make it through the next leg of the race.

This year pushed us to our limits. It was pure survival mode. Sam and I took turns falling apart. Eli faced things no child should, and Liv had to adjust to a lot of changes with our world focused on her brother. We still have a year of treatment left, and after that, we’re praying it never comes back.

Looking back at the videos from this last year was a total gut punch and yet it was also such a sweet experience. Because right in the middle of all the bad, there was so much good. Our family, friends, neighbors, all ran to our aid. Complete strangers reached out to support and lift us. We have met some of the most amazing people this year that we wouldn’t have without the cancer community. We have seen miracle after miracle after miracle. We felt lifted, not only by earthly angels but Heavenly angels along the way.

“We came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives, for we became acquainted with Him in our extremities.” -Francis Webster

Lessons from a Hard Year

So yes, as crappy as this year has been, it’s also been a year that has changed each one of us. Our little family has come out of this year stronger and I hope it continues that way. There is still so much unknown and it kind of feels like Sam and I are just rolling the dice as we look ahead and praying that it goes in our favor. I think the biggest lessons I’ve learned this year are:

Life is incredibly fragile so savor every second. Give the hug. Send the message. Make the phone call. Be quick to forgive.

God is always there. Even if it feels like He’s being quiet. He’s there. “God is in relentless pursuit of you.” -Patrick Kearon

Thank you for loving us. Thank you for lifting us. We are so incredibly lucky to have the diagnosis we have for Eli and the support we have for our little family. Here’s to another year of trusting in God, doing our best to savor every moment, and being Brave Like Eli.

Love, Emma