As the summer of 2013 progressed, I took to my bike for some stress relief and to clear my head.  It felt good to get fresh air and pour my frustration and sadness into something physical.  I was also conducting research on CF and in my finds I learned of a Cycle for Life Fundraiser which benefitted the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation.  This gave me an awesome opportunity to actually DO something to help my son.  So I started biking regularly and talking to our family and friends about how they could get involved too. 

July 17, 2013: About a week after Vacation Bible School finished, a terrible tragedy was unfolding in our little community of Western Wisconsin.  A little 2 year old boy went missing from his home and searchers were asked to come and help look for him.  This family was only a few miles from our house, and although I didn’t know them, I felt compelled to help in the search. 

Early Summer 2013:  Our summer continued on with more testing for Anders, along with the rest of our family.  Because Cystic Fibrosis is genetic, it was important to figure out what mutations came from which parent, and also find out if our other children carried the CF genes.  More trips to the hospital, more waiting, more dreaded phone calls expected.  Because it wasn’t completely confirmed that Anders had CF.  Just incredibly likely. A good distraction for us that summer was Vacation Bible School at our church. 

The day I was released from the hospital felt like a glorious taste of freedom!  However I was shocked at how little energy I had.  My mother-in-law helped me get settled and then I was alone.  And that’s when I received the dreaded phone call from the lab at Children's Hospital...  “Mrs. Waterworth, your son’s sweat test numbers are telling us it’s very likely he has Cystic Fibrosis.  We’d like you to make an appointment with our genetics office…”  After those words I don’t really remember what else was said.

Spring 2013:  Finally the last signs of the dreaded winter were gone.  The snow had melted, leaves were popping and the grass was slowly turning from a dull brown to a pretty green.  And my beloved garden beckoned me!  I couldn't wait to help the earth produce colorful flowers, fruit and vegetables.  Any free time I had was spent on my knees, gettin’ dirty with a small rake in hand, working the soil and cultivating it.  And I was smiling because this was my happy place! 

However, I was soon reminded that true joy does NOT come from our circumstances, but from our hope in the Lord.  Because it was from this very place- my beloved garden that came an enemy.

Winter 2012-‘13: Anders’ health was at the forefront of our minds. His chronic coughing had us seeking various doctors for reasons as to why he wasn’t getting better- only worse. He fell into a cycle of catching a slight cold which would then explode into a serious, croupy, seal barking type cough. The kind that, if he was in public, I got stares that said, "What is wrong with your kid?"  He wheezed, burned with fever and coughed so hard that at times he would vomit. The sound of it- day and night- made my stomach twist in knots. We’d put him on steroids and an antibiotic and he’d recover for about 2 weeks.  I called this his honeymoon period.  And then he’d get sick again.