Today was one of those days that etches itself into your memory, where every moment feels both significant and overwhelmingly intense. It began with what we hoped would be a somewhat unremarkable series of tests to discover why Owen’s lymph-node was inflamed. There was a part of us, maybe it was hope or denial, that whispered everything would be fine.

We looked for reassurance in every exchange, every look from the doctors, hoping our fears of what the “worst case scenario” were just the result of an overactive imagination fueled by too much late-night Googling.                    

After the tests, we tried to make the day about more than the hospital visit — we were in our favorite city, Portland, Oregon afterall. Owen's first ride on the Max train felt like a small victory, a slice of normalcy and fun in what has been a sea of worry. His joy was infectious, his questions of “why” a reminder of the beautiful simplicity of childhood wonder. It felt good, necessary even, to have those moments of lightness.

Then an unexpected call came. The words "urgent" and "leukemia" shattered the fragile bubble we'd been living in. It felt like a cruel joke, considering just moments before, Owen had been a beacon of bravery and adventure in the Chick-fil-A. Telling him we had to go back to the doctors, his confused and heartbreakingly brave response, "No Daddy, but I feel better now," felt like a punch to the gut. How do you explain something like this to a 4-year old?

The rush back to the hospital, getting him admitted—it all feels like a blur now. Watching his condition worsen right before our eyes, with his stomach becoming hard and distended and his lymph nodes enlarging, was terrifying. It was a stark reminder of how quickly things can change, and how precious every moment is.

Sitting here now, knowing this is just the start of a long journey, is overwhelming. We're scared, angry, and so incredibly sad. Yet, there's also this underlying current of determination. We've seen Owen's resilience, his ability to find joy in the simplest things, even now. It's inspiring, and it's what will keep us going through whatever lies ahead.

Looking back on the visit before this all started, it's clear we were trying to read between the lines of what the doctors were telling us, clinging to hope while fearing the worst. We wanted so badly to believe we were overreacting, that our concerns were just the result of being overly cautious parents. But deep down, we knew something wasn't right. Now, faced with this reality, we're forced to confront those fears head-on.

This isn't a journey we would have chosen, but it's one we're on together. It's going to test us in ways we can't even imagine right now. But we'll face it as a family, drawing strength from each other and the incredible courage our son shows us every day. For Owen, we'll be strong, we'll be hopeful, and most importantly, we'll be together through it all.

— Owen’s Parents