Treading Water

In life before cancer, there were many days when it felt like I was treading water, just trying to keep my head up and make it through the week. Our new life (especially the last few weeks) has taken that feeling to a whole new level. No matter how hard I try, some days, I feel like I can't keep all of us afloat. I used to teach swimming lessons to children, and I remember teaching them that treading water is about slow, steady moves. The faster and more frantically that you move your arms and legs, the more likely you are to tire out, get water in your face and go under. It isn't how fast and furious you move. Keeping calm is the key to staying afloat.

 

I think that same strategy plays out in life. In general, getting panicky or frantic does little to help any situation. The last few weeks, though, I have fast and furiously tried to keep our little family afloat--looking high and low for a rental house, cleaning out the attic and organizing for packing, trying to keep up with work, attending a myriad of end of school activities, being Parrish's medical advocate, playing nurse and more. I definitely hit frantic mode. Someone at work even commented that I "seemed a little off." Major understatement. Thankfully, I've managed to dial it back in the last week or so, helped in large part to the boys going with my parents to Memphis for a few days last week. The boys had a blast, and I could focus on getting some things checked off the ever-growing to-do list (and spend some quality time with Parrish). It was much needed, especially in light of the turn this week has taken.

 

The best news of this week is that we found a house to rent. It is a wonderful house in a precious neighborhood, walkable to restaurants and parks, convenient to work and the hospital. It feels like a happy house to come home to. Since we are going to be spending a lot of time at home over the next year while Parrish recovers, that is important. It is a huge weight off of my shoulders. Honestly, the house hunt has been especially trying. Almost too stressful to even blog about. I wish I could say that I remained vigilantly faithful that something would turn up. That isn't exactly true. I was scared...scared that we made the wrong decision in selling our house, scared that I wouldn't be able to provide a happy home for the boys, scared that I wouldn't be able to pack us, move us and take care of Parrish in the hospital. I was just scared. As is usually the case, just when I had really reached the lowest point, a house turned up (well, I found it on Craig's List, it didn't just drop from the sky). I do think it was divine intervention, though. God realized I had hit my limit. He also knew that we needed some good news this week.  

 

Yesterday, I took the boys to the ENT. The boys, but especially Campbell, have battled what seems like one cold, sinus infection or ear infection after another. I quit counting how many antibiotics Campbell has been on in the last six months. So, the pediatrician decided that we needed to see a specialist. Turns out, Campbell's tubes in his ears aren't working and need to be replaced, and his adenoids are very enlarged and need to come out. The doctor wants to do the surgery as soon as possible. He suggested today. Of course, I explained that today really wouldn't work because I was supposed to be with my husband at UAB for his stem cell collection for his bone marrow transplant. As the doctor and nurse tried to pick their jaws up off of the floor, they began suggesting alternate dates. First week of June? Well, we are likely moving. Second week of June? Um, sure. As long as I can cancel it if that is the day I move my husband onto the transplant floor for his month long extended-stay vacation. So, we scheduled Campbell's surgery for June 12th; they assured my I could cancel if the need arises. Oh, and I should also mention that Ivey needs his tubes surgically removed (they have been in for 3 years). They said we should wait until September though, since he can't swim for three weeks after removal. The doctor asked if I wanted to go ahead and pick a date in September. I told him that I could barely see past tomorrow, so we should probably hold off on September dates. He didn't disagree.

 

You just have to laugh, right? I mean, I couldn't make it up. The week gets better though...

 

This morning, at 5:45, I had just gotten back in bed (I had been in Campbell's room since 3:30 am...this is not an unusual occurrence...we don't sleep through the night much in my house). I was lying there thinking that I should just get up and start the day when Ivey walked in saying he was ready to get up. I tousled his hair which was sort of sticky. I asked him why he was sweaty, but then it dawned on me...and then I smelled it. Yep. You know where this is headed. There was throw up...and it was all.over.him. Hair, pajamas, face (not to mention his bed). Turns out, according to him, he had thrown up three times in his bed but never called out for me. Not sure how I didn't hear it happening on the monitor. But, it was clear he had been sleeping that way for a while. Now, I can handle a lot of things. Chest tube? No problem. Shots at home? Easy. Blood, guts, broken bones? I've got it. But throw up...not so much. It is my weakness. So, needless to say, the morning didn't start well. I'm hoping it was just an episode and not the stomach bug (although it is going around). Ivey seemed fine as the morning went on, and no one else has come down with it. Yet.

 

As for Parrish, he has made it through several more appointments and tests and then had chemo last week. There have been some bumps along the way on the administrative end, but we (meaning, me) have navigated those issues. (I have chosen carefully when to put on my manners...and when to take them off.) Parrish has had a rough couple of days. The Neupogen is really wrecking havoc on his bones and joints and causing him a lot of pain, especially in his back. This morning was tough just getting out of bed. And, his blood work wasn't where it needed to be yesterday, so he isn't having the stem cell collection today. That seems to have really defeated him. He prides himself on being an overachiever in the cancer department...constantly surprising everyone with his response to chemo or his ability to push through whatever is thrown his way. Clearly, he has no control over how many stem cells he produces, and he understands that. But, he was just mentally ready to get the show on the road as far as the transplant goes, and he feels like he has had set back after set back with it. I get it. It is frustrating, to say the least. And, I hate to see him discouraged. The plan is that he'll have more Neupogen today (and more blood work). If the blood work shows enough stem cells, then he'll do collection tomorrow and Saturday. If not, he'll repeat the Neupogen tomorrow and hopefully do collection on Saturday and Sunday. So, while a lot of you will be at the lake or the beach celebrating Memorial Day, we'll be at UAB kicking off the start of summer. Fun times.

 

As you can see, it has been one of those weeks in the Taylor house. For me, I am trying to move more calmly through the chaos and setbacks, and at the same time, not lose sight of those utterly insane moments where laughter is just about the only appropriate response. This week, please say some prayers for stem cell growth. Once the stem cells are collected, Parrish can quit the Neupogen shots and thus, quit having so much pain. And, please pray for continued peace of mind and strength of spirit as we tread the waters of moving, Campbell's surgery and Parrish's transplant plans. 

 

Much love,

Molly

 

 

 

Short and to the Point

A really quick update...

Parrish got through chemo last week and started the Neupogen shots at home on Thursday. They are not fun (for him or for me!). If things progress as planned, he should undergo the stem cell collection process this Thursday and Friday. We won't know for sure until after his blood work on Wednesday afternoon. If he has not produced enough stem cells, then he will continue with the shots for a few more days. So, please pray that the medicine is making his body produce millions upon millions of healthy stem cells.

In other (really important) news...WE FOUND A HOUSE TO RENT! Hallelujah. It is a perfect house for a family, and we are excited about moving in around the first week of June.

More to come on these fronts and more, but wanted everyone to know about the collection this week and that they can call off the house search (thanks to all my many, many house hunters!).

Love--
Molly

A Change in Scenery (and in Plans)

My lack of posting is a clear indication of the craziness around these parts. As of Tuesday, we are officially no longer home owners. We are currently renting back from our buyers and still looking for a house to rent for a year while Parrish undergoes his bone marrow transplant/recovery. Rental houses are much harder to come by than I thought they would be, and we can't be just anywhere. We have certain needs relating to our two small children and Parrish's medical issues that make finding a rental even more complicated. But, I am keeping the faith (and frantically searching). I am also somewhat in denial about packing, but super excited about lightening our load. I secretly enjoy moving because it gives me an excuse to de-clutter my life. Goodwill better get ready because I've got lots of goodies coming its way!

A couple weeks ago, we did manage to escape to the beach. I had been lamenting the fact that the boys would not get any sort of vacation this year, and honestly, everyone desperately needed a change of scenery. So, we literally decided on a Friday morning to just go (and to leave the next day). Of course, cancer can get in the way of even the most last minute plans (a lesson I keep having to re-learn ). Parrish ended up not being able to go with us because of an infection in his foot. He got a mosquito bite or scratch on his foot that got some bacteria in it. A healthy person wouldn't have even realized it, and the body would have fought off the bacteria. Not so with Parrish. Because his white blood cell counts were so low, his body couldn't fight off the bacteria. He ended up with cellulitis in his foot that the doctor treated with IV antibiotics, followed by oral antibiotics. Trust me when I say, it was not pretty (and still isn't). After two full weeks of antibiotics, the infection is better, but still not completely gone. Something like this infection reminds all of us just how fragile Parrish's body is. It is easy to forget sometimes because he appears to be so highly functioning most days. But, even a small infection can wreck havoc on his body.

So, what about the BMT?

Well, we met with the BMT folks on Monday. The doctor wanted to see Parrish's foot, and we were supposed to receive the transplant schedule (with things to get started this week). Note: "supposed to." The doctor was concerned about the infection in Parrish's foot not being completely healed. So, he ordered another week of antibiotics. That means the BMT protocol gets pushed back a week. This wouldn't be that big of a deal, but it also means that Parrish has to have an additional round of chemotherapy. Typically, a transplant candidate has a pre-transplant dose of chemotherapy (in addition to the high-dose transplant chemotherapy). Parrish's third round of treatment was going to count as his pre-transplant chemotherapy. But, now, too much time will have passed between his third round and the start of the transplant process. So, he has to endure another round of chemo. Ugh. The doctors are hoping that they will be able to do this extra round out-patient, but we won't know for sure until tomorrow. In addition, Parrish will have to repeat all the pre-transplant tests, because he will have had more chemo. This just draws out the process even more. Not really the news we wanted to hear.

But, we have taken a lot of deep breaths since Monday afternoon, and are both in a little better place about things. Given the setbacks, Parrish likely won't go in-patient until mid-June, but the start date for all of the pre-transplant items will be mid-May. On May 13th, he will go in to have a special transplant IV placed in his chest (on the opposite side of his current port). The BMT folks use an IV line that runs outside the skin, not under the skin like his current medi-port. With transplants, you have to minimize all risks for infection, and under the skin ports can in small cases cause infection. He will have some light sedation for that placement, but it is done as an out-patient procedure. On May 14th, Parrish will have a follow-up appointment with the BMT doctor, and then on May 15th, he will have his pre-transplant chemo dose. On May 16th, he should start the seven days of Neupogen shots which will cause his body to produce a large amount of stem cells. These shots are given at home (by "Nurse Molly"). Then, on May 23rd and 24th, the doctors will collect the stem cells. Again, this is an out-patient procedure done in the BMT unit. Parrish will be hooked up to a special machine that will take his blood out, filter the stem cells for collection, and then return the blood to his body. They attempt to collect a minimum of four million stem cells, so depending on how many are collected at a time, it can take 1-3 days.

After that, there is just a waiting period (you must have a minimum of four weeks between the pre-transplant and transplant chemo doses). So, the doctors will let Parrish recover from the pre-transplant chemotherapy and the collection process. Then, mid-June, Parrish will begin the transplant chemotherapy regimen and will likely go in-patient around that time. This part of the calendar has not yet been determined, so I don't have actual dates. He will spend three to four weeks in-patient on the BMT floor. With the delay in the schedule, it means that Parrish will definitely be in the hospital for  our 10 year anniversary and likely for both the boys' birthdays. Of course it isn't anyone's fault, and it is just the nature of the beast, but on top of everything else, that realization is a hard one to stomach. Most of our friends have celebrated their ten year anniversaries with a fabulous vacation...Parrish gets an all-expense paid trip to the BMT unit. Not exactly what he (or I) had in mind. But who knows, maybe Highlands will do carry-out dinner for two on the transplant floor!

Whew. A lot for one post. But hopefully that catches everyone up. As we head into the next few weeks, we would ask for prayers for Parrish's infection--that it will heal more quickly and completely so that the BMT protocol can begin, for a rental house to work out--so that we can have some clarity on where we will be living for the next year, and for peace and strength for us and our sweet boys.

Much love,
Molly


**A few beach highlights...as you can see, this change in scenery brought a lot of much needed smiles and laughter. (Thank you, thank you, thank you to my Mom for helping with and making happen all the (crazy exhausting!) fun.)

Campbell LOVES the beach!

Ivey loves just about anything related to the sea and its creatures.

 

Best buds.

Sunset on the beach.

My digger men!

Thank goodness for a heated pool!



What a change in scenery!

Blonde-y!

Either going in for a hug or a bite...not sure which.

 

My two boys. This photo will help get me through the next few months!

 

 

 

 

Random Acts of Kindness

As I have said before, Parrish and I have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support that we have felt over the last few months. At times, such love and support can come at the least expected times, from the least expected person. 

On Wednesday, I stopped at our local Starbucks for a much needed misto on my way to work. (My co-workers will tell you that I am rarely seen sans Starbucks cup these days. It might be a problem.) I will admit, I love my Starbucks. Sure, it might be over-priced caffeine, but stopping at Starbucks is about way more than coffee for me. Case in point was Wednesday.

As I waited for my misto at the counter, one of the baristas (who always calls me by name) asked me how I was doing. He went on to ask how my family was doing. "And your husband," he asked "how is he?" I wasn't quite sure if he was just asking to make conversation, so I replied that he was fine, doing good. Something sort of flippant. The barista said, "I guess as good as can be expected considering what he is going through. Just know that all of us here are thinking about him and praying for him and your family."

Few things (besides my children) can literally take my breath away. But, there, in the middle of my Starbucks, I was speechless (and sort of worried that I was about to start sobbing). I have no idea how the barista (whose name I won't use because I don't have permission) even knows about what is going on with Parrish. Parrish isn't a coffee drinker and rarely goes to Starbucks. So, I don't think anyone there has seen him. And, I definitely haven't told anyone there what is going on. My only guess is that they have overheard someone ask me how things are going. And, maybe they followed up with that customer. I have no idea. How they know is relatively irrelevant. 

What is so powerful to me is that the folks who work at my Starbucks are praying for Parrish. People who don't know him. People who I interact with for seconds. They take the time to care about and pray for us. That barista had no idea just how much I needed his kindness that morning. It was a random, unexpected gift, and it has fueled me for the rest of the week. 

See, my Starbucks serves way more than just coffee. 



**I know most of you are waiting for more of a medical update...and I will post more later today. Life has gotten in the way of blogging!

What I Haven't Told You...

There is a part of this crazy story that I haven't yet shared on the blog. I've kept thinking that it wasn't going to happen, but turns out that it is. What's the story? Oh, we sold our house. And before you ask, no, it wasn't on the market.

About three weeks ago, Parrish and I got a letter in our mailbox. It was from a real estate agent, and it said that she had a couple looking to buy a house in our neighborhood. They hadn't been able to find anything they wanted, but they liked the look of our house. Would we be willing to show it to them? Now keep in mind, I am married to a commercial real estate guy. In his world, everything is for sale...for the right price. Still thinking this might just be a joke, we called the real estate agent. Oh, it was for real. She made an appointment for her clients to come see the house. We sort of laughed and thought, this will never actually happen, but at least someone thinks the outside of our house is cute.

The couple and their agent came by on a Sunday afternoon. Not twenty minutes after they left, the agent called and said that they would like to make us an offer. Even at this point, Parrish and I thought that there was no way that they would offer us enough to entice us to unexpectedly move...and in the middle of cancer. We got the contract on Monday (that same night, Parrish went into the hospital to receive the second round of chemo). The offer price was good, but not really enough to make us move. So, Parrish (using his keen negotiating skills), just said he thought we were too far apart. I mean, we didn't even counter, sort of thinking that would be the end of it. Nope. They came back with a new price. And, it was one we couldn't turn down. So, from the ninth floor of the hospital, Parrish and I signed the contract (witnessed by the nurse no less).

Of course, we still thought this wasn't really going to happen. There would be something in the inspection, or the house wouldn't appraise. Something. Nope. The inspection came back virtually clean, and the house appraised. So, we are set to close April 30...you know, four days after Parrish has his battery of pre-transplant tests. A couple weeks before the transplant starts. Perfect timing, huh?

It is crazy. Crazy. (Yes, I have used that word too many times for one blog post, but there is just no other way to describe it). The truth is, though, that if someone had made us this offer six months ago, we would have jumped at it. With two little kids, we have outgrown our house. We have toyed with the idea of moving, but couldn't find the time to actually get it ready to put on the market. So, even in the midst of cancer, we just couldn't turn down the opportunity to sell our house without even listing it for a price that was almost too good to be true.

So where are we moving? Good question. Sure wish I knew the answer. We think the smartest plan is for us to find something to rent for the next year. I just don't have time right now to look for a house to buy, and I definitely don't have time to do any work on a house. Plus, I don't think buying a new house when your husband has cancer is really the smartest thing to do. We need to take the next year to regroup...work on getting Parrish healthy and take time to look for the best house for our needs. In the meantime, I am frantically looking for a house to rent. If you are in this area and have any leads, please email me. I am getting a little panicked. Thankfully, the precious couple buying our house will let us rent it back from them for a little while if we need to. But, ideally, we would like to get into a rental sooner rather than later.

I am writing this blog post as if I don't have any worry or hesitation about moving. That really isn't true. I am very, very torn. We have the most perfect, Mayberry-esque neighborhood (which is why things tend to sell off-market), and our dear friends live a stone's throw away. This is the house that I brought my babies home to...where they took their first steps...where we became a family. Neighbors have rallied around us during the last couple months in ways that I never could have imagined. All of that is very hard to give up. But, at the end of the day, our house selling feels like divine intervention...and I don't write that flippantly. It does. We are trusting that this is the right thing to do. Putting our faith into action and hoping (and praying) that this isn't a terrible mistake.

Now, let the packing begin! 

What Lies Ahead

Thank you to everyone for their excitement, celebration and joy over the clean PET scan. We agree that it is truly an answer to prayers. And, while we are thrilled that the clean scan came earlier than expected, we are also very overwhelmed at the bone marrow transplant that lies ahead.

Yesterday, the director of the transplant team and the coordinator of the transplant unit came by to meet with us and go over the details and schedule for the bone marrow transplant (BMT). As previously discussed, all of the doctors are treating Parrish's Hodgkin's as a recurrence. Once Hodgkin's returns, there is an overwhelmingly high chance of it returning again, if a patient does not have a BMT. As one doctor put it, "without a BMT, I can tell you Hodgkin's will come back, I just can't tell you when." But, with a BMT, there is a much higher likelihood for a long term cure. Nationally, the statistics are 70% of patients have a life long cure. UAB has a slightly higher rate than that. So, all signs really point to a BMT, and the transplant team confirmed that view.

Despite realizing that this is what needs to happen, the reality of it actually happening is hard to comprehend. It is a big deal. And despite an autologous BMT being a rather "routine" procedure in the world of transplants, there is nothing routine about this in our world. We had an okay meeting with UAB's transplant team yesterday, but additional meetings today went much, much better. I toured the BMT unit (where Parrish will spend a lot of quality time), and tried my best to make nice with all the powers that be. I want to make sure Parrish is the favorite patient well before he gets there! (It helps to flash pictures of cute kids...and I am so not above pulling out the I-phone slide show.)

I know everyone has a lot of questions about the BMT, so I will try to answer some of them now. The most common question I get is how are they using his own stem cells, since he is the one with cancer. The cancer had not spread to his bone marrow (this time or back in1995), which is why they can use his own stem cells. And, using a person's own stem cells is much preferred to using a donor's because of there is no risk of rejection and no risk of graft versus host disease.

So what actually happens with a BMT? Before the BMT occurs, Parrish will have several procedures and treatments. First, he will have blood tests to screen for infectious disease, pulmonary function tests, chest x-rays, echocardiogram, and more. After all those tests are done, the doctors will place a central venous catheter in the left side of his chest--it is called a double lumen apheresis catheter. It will be used to collect the stem cells. (Parrish's other port, that is already in place, will be used for labs, chemotherapy, fluids and such.) After the line placement, the actual stem cell collection process will begin. Parrish will take neupogen shots at home for four to five days. The neupogen will stimulate his body to produce stem cells (technically called "neupogen mobilization of stem cells"). At the end of those four or five days, the doctors will collect Parrish's stem cells (called "apheresis").

Apheresis is done outpatient. Parrish will go to the BMT outpatient clinic where he will be hooked up to a machine that takes out his blood, separates out the stem cells for collection and then returns the rest of the blood cells back into his body. The doctors will harvest enough stem cells for two bone marrow transplants, keeping the extra amount frozen in the event additional stem cells are needed at a later date. The collection process takes 4 to 6 hours. The goal is to harvest enough stem cells over that time period that an additional day is not needed, but in some cases, a second day of collection is required.

About four weeks after harvest, Parrish will receive high dose chemotherapy. This high dose chemotherapy includes five doses of busulfan, all given outpatient over the course of a week. After the fifth dose of the busulfan, Parrish will be admitted to the BMT in-patient unit where he will receive two more days of chemotherapy (cytoxan and etoposide). Just how high a dose of chemo is it? Well, his hematologist said that it is 100 times stronger than the ICE treatment he is getting now. The BMT director said 20 times stronger. Regardless, it is waaaayyyyy stronger. Both of the doctors said that the high dose chemo is designed to kill everything bad and everything good in Parrish's body. It pretty much takes him to the brink.

After the second day of the cytoxan and etoposide, Parrish has a day of rest. Transplant day occurs the next day and is referred to as "Day 0." The transplanted stem cells will enter the marrow cavities of the bones through Parrish's lungs and spleen. The stem cells will divide and produce red cells, white cells and platelets (called "engraftment"). This process takes several weeks (3 to 4 weeks), and during this time, Parrish will remain in-patient in the BMT unit at UAB. He will have side effects like any chemotherapy treatment--nausea, loss of appetite, fatigue, mouth sores, low blood counts, and such (these side effects tend to peak five days after transplant). The doctors and nurses will manage the side effects with the same medications and/or transfusions like do here on the ninth floor.

During these three to four weeks, Parrish will be at a high risk of infection as his body rebuilds itself. Because of this, Parrish will be on a strict neutropenic diet (in a nutshell, nothing raw, including salads for 30 days...nothing that was made and then frozen....nothing packaged with an insanely ridiculous shelf life...nothing from restaurants with below 90 health rating). If you want more info on his diet restrictions during this time, I have lots of literature! In addition, Parrish will only be able to drink water that is filtered or bottled, no tap water of any kind. The BMT unit also is highly regulated--you have to have a passcode to enter, all rooms have a special air filtration system unique to that room to keep germs from spreading, no live plants or flowers are allowed anywhere in the unit, all electronic devices used by patients must be screened, visitors are restricted to a certain number, and no one under the age of four is permitted in the unit. So, that means Ivey and Campbell won't be able to visit. Ugh. A month without seeing Daddy...can't even go there right now.

After being discharged from the hospital, Parrish will have daily check ups for about a week, and then weekly visits until day 100. At day 100, Parrish will be released back to the hematology folks where he will proceed with the normal post-cancer treatment follow-up (blood tests, scans, etc.). In addition, Parrish will continue to be monitored by the transplant team for the next year or so.

So, when is this all supposed to start? The plan now is for Parrish to have pre-transplant tests starting on April 26th. Then, we would just go from there. From the pre-transplant tests to discharge date after transplant, it is about 6 to 8 weeks (only 3 to 4 of those are actually in-patient though). We can hope that Parrish will be out of the hospital in time to celebrate the boys' birthdays in early July...and with a little luck, maybe we can even celebrate our ten year wedding anniversary (on June 21st) outside the four walls of the hospital.

Again, the doctors are extremely optimistic about the BMT and have said to try and think of an autologous BMT as a way in which to administer extremely high doses of chemotherapy, rather than an actual transplant. The risks associated with an autologous BMT are minor...not anything like an allogenic (donor) BMT. So, we feel confident about the procedure. That doesn't change just how overwhelmed we (and especially I) feel about all of this. It is hard for me to dance a jig to celebrate a clean scan when I know what is up next. Honestly, those of us in the trenches are all tired from the last 9 weeks...and the next several months look to be even more physically and emotionally grueling. So, please keep those prayers coming (prayers for peace, for strength, and for some quality family time pre-BMT).

Parrish is finishing up the last round of treatment today and should get out of the hospital tonight. Just in time for the weekend! We will keep everyone posted as things progress with the BMT.


Love,
Molly

This is no joke...

Parrish's doctor called tonight with some unbelievable news. Parrish's PET scan today was completely clean...in the doctor's words, Parrish is in "complete remission." And yes, it might be April Fools Day, but this is seriously no joke.

I am not sure what exactly I said to the doctor, but he clearly realized I needed more confirmation, because he said "you do not even know, his scan was absolutely beautiful. It is really amazing. I can't wait to show it to you." Trust me, we can't wait to see it.

So, what does this mean? Well, we don't know all the details, and we won't until after Parrish's appointment on Wednesday morning. But, for starters, Parrish will still have at least one more treatment (the next one to begin this week like we thought). And, he still has a very long road ahead of him with the bone marrow transplant (the doctor wants us to meet with the transplant team as soon as possible). We just couldn't wait to share this good news though.

Thanks to all of you for your prayers and support in this cancer journey...there is a long way to go, but tonight, we are celebrating this huge milestone with all of you.

Much love,
Molly