Aubree's Brain Tumor

Excerpts from my journal in 2006...

In November 1997 I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl that we named Aubree Nicole. I felt so much love that Heavenly Father entrusted me with this little angel. Aubree was born perfectly healthy and we were thrilled to have this baby girl in our home. One of the things that her daddy said in her baby blessing was, “You will overcome and endure hardships.” I didn’t think much of that at the time, as most of us in this life have hardships of one kind or another.

A few weeks before Aubree turned 2, we started noticing some strange things. Her walking became unsteady and she stopped running. Her strength in her arms seemed to be weaker, her speech became slightly slurred, and some of her small motor skills seemed to be lacking. We took her to the pediatrician wondering if she possibly had an inner-ear infection or some other ailment. When he couldn’t find anything wrong with her, he scheduled an MRI a few weeks after. I remember starting to worry that something was wrong.

On Aubree’s 2-year-old birthday, we were at a cabin with family. That day her pupil in one eye looked larger than the other and we decided we should take her to the ER at Primary Children's.

I clearly remember Aubree laying in the CT scan machine. After the scan, the doctor came in and told us that she had “an irregular mass growing in her brain.” My husband immediately began to cry and I just stood there, in shock.

They took us back to the ER room and we stayed there to wait for the neurosurgeon resident to come talk to us. Both of our parents came and even my pediatrician had heard about it and came at 11 p.m. that night to be with us. As the resident came in and talked to us, sweet Aubree was sitting on the floor singing “Happy Birthday” to herself, as the rest of us stood around bawling.

We were told that it would be a long night and they would need to do an MRI the next morning. They said Aubree could have something to eat only until midnight. (Looking back, I now realize that they were preparing her for a possible surgery the next day.) We took her in a wagon down to the cafeteria and she had a grilled cheese sandwich at quarter to midnight.

The next morning they did an MRI. The neurosurgeon took us into his office and showed us her scan on his computer. He told us that she had a brain tumor. He showed us the image of her brain and how smack in the center was a large, olive-sized tumor. My heart sank. I thought, there would be no way to remove a tumor embedded in the center of her brain like that, but the neurosurgeon said they could still operate. Because of her pupil dilation, and her severe hydrocephalus, the doctor was worried that her life was in grave danger. He operated on her that afternoon.

I clearly remember saying goodbye to what I thought would possibly be the last time I would be with my baby in this life. We cried so much that I started getting dehydrated. The neurosurgeon had us sign a paper that said we understood that Aubree could be blind, deaf, paralyzed or even die from this surgery. We sat in the surgery waiting room waiting for the anesthesiologist to come and get Aubree. As we sat there, another family was in the room with their pre-teen daughter. The girl cried and groaned, “Why me??” We felt sorry for them until we realized she was going in to get her tonsils out. Then I got kind of mad. That was a new experience for me and something I have since learned a lot from. Everyone in this life deals with different levels and different kinds of challenges. To one parent who is sending a child in for a tonsillectomy, the fear and sadness may be the worst they’ve ever known. It is not our place to judge whether or not they have the right to be sad or scared, compared to our own experiences and trials.

I know all of us are constantly blessed by the tender mercies of the Lord. One of ours that day was that the anesthesiologist happened to be my Aunt Leslie’s brother-in-law. It gave me such comfort to know the person who was taking my little girl and watching over her during this surgery. I found out later that he had called my Aunt Leslie and told her that things were not good, and that Aubree’s was a very serious situation.

Sitting in the inpatient surgery waiting room seemed like an eternity. We had many family and friends who popped in to be with us. I remember the look of horror on my mother-in-law’s face when I said, “I know it will be okay. Whether she lives or dies, it’s going to be okay.” (Truthfully, it is amazing what the body does in a shocked state. Looking back, sometimes I am still amazed that we got through this whole ordeal.)

The doctor came in and told us that the surgery seemed successful. They had removed what they thought was the whole tumor. We were relieved and thrilled, only to later be completely devastated and disappointed. The MRI showed that only 25 percent of the tumor was removed. After her recovery, we had been home only one week when we had to go back to the ER. This time the MRI showed that the hydrocephalus was still existent and the tumor had now filled in the entire space again. Although it was supposedly a slow-growing tumor, the hospital social worker explained that it was still considered cancerous because of its dangerous location on the brain stem. That is also why the surgeries were so risky.

The night we were admitted to the hospital again was probably the darkest hour of my life. I had no hope. We thought everything had gone okay, but now we were starting over again. It was emotionally exhausting. At this point, I learned how thankful I am for my dear husband. I lay on the hospital couch in Aubree’s room and just wanted to go to sleep. The doctor’s needed to put the shunt back in Aubree’s head to relieve the hydrocephalus pressure. It was 2 or 3 in the morning when they could finally do it, and I could no longer cope. Matt, my husband, completely took over and was with Aubree through that night. I feel so grateful to have such a wonderful husband. There have been times we’ve had our differences in our marriage, but there is nothing like a major trial to bring you closer together. That is one of the greatest blessings we received by going through this life trial.

We were in the hospital in December, in the heart of the Christmas season. Matt and I would go home each night around 10 or 11, and go back the next morning to be with Aubree. We were blessed that his boss allowed him to do some of his work on a laptop in the hospital so he could be with us. Because we were not home much, and when we got home we were so exhausted, we never got around to putting up Christmas decorations. It looked like we may be spending Christmas in the hospital, which is where we also had spent Thanksgiving. A nice friend went to our home one day and got out our Christmas lights and hung them for us. Another night we came home and a beautifully decorated Christmas tree was plugged in on our front porch. To this day we do not know who left that precious tree on our porch. Each year we use the same bows and decorations that were given to us as a reminder of how important quiet, Christ-like service is. That was another great lesson I learned from this ordeal. I learned how to serve others because of the many acts of service that were given to us. (One day while we were at the hospital, my sweet Aunt Karen went to my house and cleaned it from top to bottom.)

We “hung out” in the hospital for a week while we waited for Aubree to get on the surgery schedule. The doctor’s determined that she needed another tumor resection and a third ventriculostomy. (Putting a hole in a ventricle to improve drainage, and thus help with the hydrocephalus.) The day before her second surgery we took a lot of pictures of Aubree with her brother and with us. We knew this surgery would have to be much more aggressive, increasing the risk of disabilities or death.

Although 90 percent of the tumor was removed that time, Aubree was left with several disabilities. In my heart, I always thought she would live, but that we would possibly have a handicapped child. It made me so sad to think of the prospects of that, as my daughter loved to run and dance. She could no longer sit without support. She could not walk or stand. She had cranial nerve palsy which left her right eye sitting higher than her left.







One vivid memory I have from the hospital was seeing Aubree laying in her hospital bed. Ever since she was 18 months old, she had learned to sing, “I am a Child of God.” As she laid there, she began to sing,

I am a Child of God, and He has sent me here,
Has given me an earthly home, with parents kind and dear,
Lead me, guide me, walk beside me, help me find the way,
Teach me all that I must do, to live with Him someday.

Aubree didn’t know it, but she helped to comfort me. As I felt the Holy Ghost, it was almost too much to bear and I cried and cried. I knew that she knew God. I knew that if she could not be healed by these doctors, that Jesus could heal her. Whenever I read in 3 Nephi about Jesus blessing the little children in the Americas, I think that maybe someday he will lay his hands on Aubree’s head and heal her.

We knew we had years of therapy to help Aubree. We also never knew if that tumor would start to grow again. Some days it was daunting. There was a sign at the hospital that said, “Some parents wonder if their child will make it to college. Others wonder if their child will make it to kindergarten.” Sometimes I would wonder if I would ever see her marry, have children, or live a normal life. I learned that I had to just take one day at a time. It was amazing to me how Heavenly Father helped us through each day. We were going through a mourning process in a way. We were mourning the life that she would’ve had.

One of my favorite scriptures is one I discovered shortly after the surgeries. I would read it often as it helped me to realize that the Lord was aware of us. It is in Mosiah 24:14, “And I will also ease the burdens which are put upon your shoulders, that even you cannot feel them upon your backs, even while you are in bondage; and this will I do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.”

I love this scripture because I know that the Lord is with us throughout challenges that we face. He is aware of us and loves us. I learned so much about the Atonement during this time. There were times when I felt so alone. Other than my husband, I felt that no one could possibly understand or feel what we were going through. Then it hit me that Jesus did. Not only did He suffer for our sins, but he suffered all that we were going to go through in this life, even the pain and heartache that challenges bring.

Aubree had to relearn how to sit, then crawl, then stand, then walk, all over again. Her therapists were amazed at her progress and her determination and will. She had an eye patch that we put on her eye so the brain would not turn off the other eye. I have vivid memories of Aubree using her rear-assist walker and almost running down the hall at church with her one eye patched. I think if anyone would’ve gotten in her way, she would’ve knocked them right over.



For six years Aubree had a lot of physical therapy. In that time she also had four or five eye muscle surgeries. Our family was constantly praying that her tumor would shrink. As a mom, I was almost obsessed with trying to find any medical treatments that would help her. One of the happiest days of my life was a day that we took Aubree in for an annual MRI in the summer of 2002. It was 2 ½ years after her brain surgeries. The radiologists got to know us pretty well and would usually just give me the report while I was still there that the tumor looked the same and there was no change. On that particular day, the radiologist came out and told us that the tumor had shrunk and was no more than just a small trace. I was so excited! Later on the neurosurgeon told us that this type of tumor doesn’t just shrink on its own. He told us that he uses Aubree’s MRI’s in his studies with other medical students and doctors because it is so rare. We were elated!! How grateful we were to Heavenly Father for this wonderful blessing. Although we still sometimes worry if the tumor will start to grow again, this has been a huge burden lifted from our shoulders.

Seven years after the brain surgeries Aubree is doing so well. Her mental capacity was not affected by the surgeries, and for that we are so grateful. In fact, she is consistently in the high reading and math groups each year. She learned to ride a bike without training wheels this past spring. That was such a huge accomplishment since her balance was so affected. She continues to have a head tilt, and some slight small motor and balance issues, but that doesn’t stop her from dancing or playing the violin.



Although we still have sorrow because of this challenge, I am grateful for the things I learned. I learned what true service is. I learned that Heavenly Father is there for us and tries to teach us through life’s challenges. I learned how important my relationship with my husband was and how grateful I am to have him. I learned much about Jesus Christ and His Atonement for me and all of us.

I know that the gospel of Jesus Christ is on the earth again. We have knowledge that helps to give us perspective on life. I know that the Lord knows each and every one of us by name. He knows our struggles, our weaknesses, and he also knows our talents and strengths and what we are capable of. I am thankful that families are eternal and that the Lord gives us challenges to help us grow.

Aubree age 10


Aubree - age 16


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