by Aly Taylor
—ALY—
Josh and I literally said nothing the entire time. We just sat there with our mouths open and minds swimming. We kept looking at each other and squeezing each other’s hands as if to say, I’m freaking out! What do you think is happening? Finally, as I tried (and failed) to silence the dance party that had broken out in my head, my phone buzzed in my purse. I held Lydia with one arm and reached into my purse with the other. Pulling my phone up to my face, I saw that it was a text from Karen. We hadn’t heard from her since we’d left the hospital a few days earlier except for one short thank-you text she sent in reply to one of my messages checking on her. The text I was looking at now, though, wasn’t a simple “thank you.” It was long. And miraculous.
Karen explained that she had thought long and hard over the past several days about what was best for Lydia. As much as she wanted to keep Lydia, she had come to realize that Josh and I were the best thing for her. She told us how difficult the decision was, but she also knew it was the right thing. She was certain. In fact, she was texting us from the attorney’s office—and she said she was in the process of signing the adoption papers.
Just like that, Lydia was ours.
Josh and I burst into tears. Another couple in the nursery room with us offered to take a picture, capturing the moment we learned Lydia would be our daughter forever. I was a wreck, praising God and thinking over and over, Did this really just happen? There are no words for what I felt in that moment. What we knew and sensed from the beginning had come to pass. Lydia was worth the fight, the tears, the confusion, the surrender, the hard tile floor, the devastating discussions. She was worth it. Our lost little sheep was coming home.
They asked us to bring the car seat upstairs so they could strap her in, but we didn’t have her car seat with us. It was still in our Kentucky home where we’d left it that morning. When we came to the hospital, we never dreamed we’d actually be able to bring her home with us. Genevieve’s car seat was in the car, though, so Josh ran down to check it. Fortunately, it was rated for babies down to five pounds, and Lydia was five pounds and four ounces. Perfect! We also didn’t have any clothes for her. Again, why would we? Lydia was dressed in a little white hospital shirt and a tiny white hospital hat with a crooked bow on it. I so badly wanted to put her in one of the cute newborn outfits we had, but we had nothing. No outfit, no hat, no newborn car seat—but we had her. We figured we would be walking out of the hospital empty-handed; instead, I was triumphantly escorted out in a wheelchair holding Lydia just as I had been two weeks earlier with Vera. I was a mommy—again!
—JOSH—
God did it again.
I don’t know why He has continued to work in our lives in such big ways, but we are so incredibly thankful He has. I also find it no coincidence that we had finally surrendered the situation fully into God’s hand just the night before. We knew He would take care of Lydia, and we were beyond thrilled to now know for sure that we were part of His plan for her. The beauty and miracle of adoption will never cease to amaze me!
THE MAGIC OF TELEVISION
It’s weird to think that television crews were still hanging around for all this drama. Once we knew the adoption wasn’t happening, the network pulled most of the cameramen and producers, mostly for privacy’s sake. Fortunately, they decided to leave a few people with us in Kentucky to capture our final few days there and to interview us about having to say goodbye to Lydia. They weren’t with us at the hospital, but we knew they were at the house to film us returning home without the baby we’d hoped to adopt.
When we left the hospital, Aly and I made one of the best decisions of our lives: we called the camera crew to tell them what happened. Stunned by the turn of events and knowing they had TV gold, they made one request: “Can you keep it from your parents until you get home? We’d love to get their genuine surprise when you walk in with the baby.” Of course we said yes. Our family had walked with us through so much heartache over the years and especially this past week; the idea of giving them one shocking moment of pure joy was thrilling. We knew we would catch them completely off guard. The car seat and all Lydia’s clothes were still with them at the house, and we had been given every indication that it was all over.
The camera crew had our parents sitting at the kitchen table with Genevieve and Vera when we drove up. They wanted to make sure no one saw us get Lydia out of the car. The crew told our family that we would be coming in to talk to them about how our “final” visit with Lydia went and how it felt to say goodbye. When everything was ready, Aly and I made our way to the kitchen with Lydia in our arms. Our hearts were pounding a million beats a minute as we walked around the corner and said, “Surprise!”
Our parents lost it. My dad was the first to see us and let out a big, “Oh my gracious!” Aly’s mom jumped up from her seat and stood there covering her face in shock. My mom was holding Vera and she stood up shaking. No one could believe it. They all rushed over to check out the beautiful baby in Aly’s arms. Genevieve, who had been over the moon for Vera over the past two weeks, was able to meet her new little sister. Everyone was chattering and praising God, and Aly just kept saying, “I know! I know! I know!” Then I got to see the most important women in my life—my incredible wife, her mother, my mom, and my three beautiful little girls—all together for the first time. It was one of the most amazing moments of our lives, and I can relive it on video any time I want!
As crazy as life under the reality TV microscope had been at times, this moment made it all worth it.
CHAPTER 13
CELEBRATE THE MIRACLES
—ALY—
I can’t believe this is my life! When we got home with Vera and Lydia, I had to pinch myself. To go from not knowing if I would live, to being declared cancer-free, then to being home with my three miracle girls is just too much to take at times. When people hear our story, they are always blown away by what God has done in our family. I don’t blame them. I’ve lived this whole adventure, and I’m still blown away by it! However, it’s important to remember that our story isn’t perfect and it isn’t over yet. It’s easy for people to hear everything we’ve been through and assume that all our problems are over, that we’ve conquered every obstacle and fought every battle. We haven’t. The Taylor Five has had quite an adventure, but we’re not fading away into the happily ever after quite yet.
We still have to deal with issues from having gone through cancer, infertility, and adoption. We never let our struggles overpower our blessings, but we want to be real with others about not only the battles we’ve won but also the ones we’re still fighting. That kind of honesty and vulnerability is so important, even for a private person like me. We have so many tools and opportunities these days for living authentic lives in public, but too often we hide behind our highlight reels. We use social media to show the very best parts of our lives and try to hide the mess. Social media rarely shows the difficult, ugly moments of life. But that’s real life for all of us.
Reality TV has an especially bad reputation for painting fake pictures of people’s lives. Some shows make people look really, really good, and other shows make people look really, really bad. That’s one of the things that made me so nervous about going on Rattled. I didn’t want to show the world an unrealistic view of our lives; I wanted to show people the real thing. Fortunately, TLC felt the same way. Josh and I originally thought the show would just film us in Kentucky and stop when we brought the girls home. However, they were interested in seeing our whole life, warts and all.
After they filmed us a couple of times once we got Vera and Lydia home, the producers asked what else we had coming up in our regular life. We mentioned that we were coming up on the five-year mark of my cancer diagnosis and explained how significant that was. My chance of a recurrence dropped dramatically at the two-year mark, and those chances would fall down to the basement at year five. They asked if they could hang out with us a while longer and film that doctor visit. We were honestly su
rprised that TLC was so interested in this, but I immediately said, “Oh my, yes! Of course!” I loved the idea of having this appointment on video. I knew it would be something my kids could look back on for years to come. I was also excited about putting an encouraging message of hope on national television for viewers who were struggling through their own cancer battles. That was one of the reasons Josh and I had agreed to do the show in the first place, so there was no way I was going to pass up an opportunity to document my five-year cancer-free celebration for all to see.
GRADUATING FROM CANCER
When I was first diagnosed, I talked to several cancer patients. I needed wisdom and insight, and I needed some idea of what I was up against. One of the first people I talked to was a breast cancer survivor who was a few years past her diagnosis. She stressed over and over how much she couldn’t wait to hit the five-year mark. She said she felt like she was holding her breath until she got there. Soon after, I talked to a woman who was only a few months into her cancer journey. She told me she was already planning the huge celebration she would have after her five-year milestone. Then I talked to another survivor who was fifteen years past her diagnosis, and she said one of the happiest days of her life was the day she hit the five-year mark. You can see the theme here, right? In the cancer world, few days are more significant than the fifth anniversary from your diagnosis. Even in those first days of my journey, before I even knew what type and stage of cancer I had, I started focusing on that five-year mark. I knew it would be a big deal and something I would definitely celebrate.
When I first got to MD Anderson and learned how serious my cancer was and how it had already spread to my lymph nodes, I tried to keep my eyes on that five-year goal. We avoided statistics as much as possible, but that was one marker we held on to. If I can make it to five years, I realized, I’ll trust I have beaten this thing for good. Then came the chemo, surgery, radiation, and reconstruction nightmare.
I was diagnosed on October 17, 2011. Once I realized how important the five-year mark was, I joked that I wished there was a five-year sleeping pill. Little did I know how many wonderful things would happen in my life in those five years! But if I could have been knocked out cold at the start of my journey and woken up on October 17, 2016, I probably would have done it. It was hard to imagine back then what the next five years would look like. It was all so scary, like I was stepping into a dark cloud. I knew I was starting a long race, and the five-year mark was the finish line. I just didn’t know how I’d have the strength to make it there.
Now, on the other side of the journey looking back, I know there’s only one way I made it: Jesus. Josh was an incredible partner, and my family was amazing. However, I would not have gotten through it without my Comforter and Healer, Jesus Christ.
My five-year appointment was originally scheduled for Halloween, but my doctor had to reschedule. Can you guess what day they moved the appointment to? October 17. That’s the day my life changed forever in 2011, and that was going to be the day I’d know for sure that the cancer was gone in 2016. I felt like God had given me a gift when they changed my appointment. I had a great sense that He wanted to frame this whole thing in the little five-year box I’d imagined in my head. Thank God I didn’t sleep through the previous five years. He saw me through to the end, and it was time to get the official word on my cancer status.
Josh and I left the girls with our parents and friends, and we set off for Houston the same way we started this journey—just the two of us. It was a great opportunity for us to spend some quality (and quiet) time together without three babies demanding our attention. We spent a lot of time thinking, talking, and praying about all that had happened over the previous five years. We slept a lot (no kids!), and we cried a lot. I trusted that I was healed, but I still had a flood of anxiety pour over me in Houston. There were so many memories there. So many bad doctor reports, test results, surgeries, and treatments. It felt overwhelming to be back there having tests run and waiting for my oncologist to deliver what I knew would be life-changing news—one way or another.
When my oncologist came into the exam room, she was almost in tears as she went over the significance of this appointment. I love her so much; she and I had walked such a long journey together, and I couldn’t have asked for a better guide. She examined me, asked a ton of questions, wrote a lot of notes, and ran a few tests. Finally, with the biggest smile on her face, she said, “Aly, I’m happy to tell you that you have graduated to the survivorship section of the hospital!” Survivorship! She went on to explain that she no longer needed to see me. It was weird to think of not seeing her again, but there was no reason for her to see me. She sees cancer patients, and, praise God, that wasn’t me anymore. And it will never be me again, in Jesus’s name.
TIME TO CELEBRATE
I had graduated from college three times by that point, first with my bachelor’s, then my master’s, then my PhD. But none of those can hold a candle to the fourth graduation of my adult life—graduating from cancer. I wasn’t sure what to do. I’d dreamt of this day for so long, and here it was. The only thing I knew to do was celebrate. We had a big party when I hit the two-year mark, and we all agreed we’d have an even bigger one when I got to five years. Well, here we were!
It was impossible not to think back to our little celebration on Josh’s twenty-seventh birthday when we first got to Houston five years earlier. I remembered my shock and joy when my mom and I walked up and saw confetti all over our table. We took that as a miracle back then, as God giving us a clear reminder that He was there with us during those dark days.
Now I truly believe that was a prophetic moment where God told me there would be many celebrations to come. I also believe it was His way of reminding me to celebrate every moment. I remember thinking, praying, and hoping that there would be lots of celebrating in my future—even though it felt like we had no reason to celebrate then. Well, we had reason to celebrate now. Josh and I had made it through the dark cloud. Our faith was stronger, our relationship was closer, our family was bigger, and I had beaten cancer. Time to party!
—JOSH—
That five-year “cancerversary” party was surreal. It was the perfect bookend to the prayer-filled send-off gathering our friends had for us the night before we left for our first appointment in Houston. Almost everyone from that send-off came back to celebrate Aly’s five-year mark with us. Looking across the crowd of people and remembering how important each of them had been along the way was priceless. Our friends Amy and Ron had sung songs of praise at the send-off five years earlier, and now they were singing songs of praise to honor what God had done in our lives. Everything had come full circle.
We were also glad that TLC asked to film the party. This is another blessing, to have these key moments captured professionally on film. This footage will be a treasure for our family for the rest of our lives. TLC used the party in the season finale of Rattled, ending the season by celebrating all four of my miracle girls. A few years before, when we had Aly’s two-year party, a friend commented that she was praying we’d have a little Taylor baby running around by the time we had the five-year party. Who could have imagined that, three years later, we’d have not one but three perfect Taylor babies?
—ALY—
There’s one thing for certain about the Taylor family: we will celebrate like no other. God has given us so many reasons to celebrate, and we want to be faithful in remembering both the good and bad. We honor the valleys He has walked us through, and we rejoice in the victories. I don’t care who you are or what is going on in your life; you can find some reason to celebrate.
Like I said earlier, this doesn’t mean our story is over. The five-year celebration capped off one major phase of our life, but we still have plenty of living left to do. And, to be honest, we’re still healing from what happened during those five years. They were hard, hard times. Years have passed, but the wounds are still fresh. There are days when I think I’m good, but something will happe
n that sends me back in time to a deeply emotional, painful place. I’ll get a new pain in my body and a flash of fear will come over me that the cancer has returned. I’ll get a whiff of “chemo smell” (you know what I mean if you’ve been through it), and I’ll get physically ill. Someone will make a flippant statement about cancer or death, and I’ll feel myself get angry. I’ll hear of a friend’s or acquaintance’s new cancer diagnosis, and my heart will break for that person. Yes, I’m healed… but that healing doesn’t mean I’m not also still broken. I’m both.
Josh reminds me that it’s all part of the continual cycle of brokenness and healing. I have full faith that God has healed me, but I also know I need to walk in that healing every day. There are days when I feel broken and plenty of days when I am broken. But God is always there to put those broken pieces back together again, continually remaking me into something new. In those times I can hear Him whisper, “You are healed, My child. But you are still healing. Depend on Me. Hide My Word in your heart. Speak it out loud. Abide in Me. I offer healing—over and over and over again.”
—JOSH—
We are all so incredibly blessed, but we must not get lost in our bliss and think we don’t need God anymore. Instead, we must continually live lives of desperation—desperate for Him and dependent on Him each and every day. We were desperate for God during our cancer battle. We were desperate for God during our infertility and adoption struggles. And now, as the parents of three little girls, we are desperate for Him in an entirely different way. We are desperate for Him to empower us to raise three warriors for His kingdom. If that doesn’t bring you to your knees in desperation, praying for guidance on how to raise little souls, I don’t know what will.
Our prayer is that we always remember what God has done for us, that we continually celebrate His goodness, that we are honest with our shortcomings and struggles, and that we give our testimony as often as we can. Our pain has not been in vain, and we strive to give other people the hope that we have experienced in Christ Jesus. Psalm 78:1-8 declares: