A letter to my little girl...

Hey there Kiddo,

So now that you are old enough to read this I hope that you are enjoying learning about the journey we endured together as you entered into this world.  You truly are a miracle!  From your perfect little fingers to your perfect little toes that I got to see today.  I can’t wait to meet you, to touch you, to hold your little fingers in mine.  You are my strong fighter…even before you took your first breath here on earth you were tough.  You keep me strong!

We found out today that you are a GIRL!!!, although you made it hard for us to see.  You had the hiccups and were quite the mover.  You must like the spotlight because you wouldn’t turn your head for a profile shot.  You wanted to stare right at the camera.  I get it…that’s not my best side either.  The doctor told us that you look perfectly healthy!  I was so thrilled to hear that and as soon as the words left her lips I had tears in my eyes.  I know without a doubt what your movements feel like now and they seem so much more apparent to me.  In fact, I’m finding it hard to focus at work….you really like to kick.  I’m completely ok with this because I feel like it’s your way of telling me you’re alright…despite it all.

Your dad had quite the twinkle in his eye when he saw you today.   You are going to have an amazing father (wait, you already know this).  He’s endearing and protective and wants so much to care for us.  He is the emotional one.  I wish I was more like that.  I’m sure you will melt his heart and have him wrapped around your finger.  He tells me you are going to be the next Danica Patrick.  I’m sorry your toy room is decorated with cars.  Your dad and your grandpa are what we call “Motor-heads”… they will probably push this on you.  It’s not that bad.  Some day when your tire is flat on the side of the road you will be thankful.

You are oh so special…please never forget that.  I know you must have such an important purpose to contribute to this world given our circumstances.  I cannot wait to see you grow up (and of course once you are, I will wish that you didn’t do it so fast).  Your dad thinks you will someday find the cure for cancer.  I hope you don’t, only because I wish there to be one by then….so you won't have to worry about it, ever again. 

We spent tonight poking at you.  Your dad likes to talk to you through my belly button, like he is on a megaphone.  I wish you could see it.  I’ll try to catch it on camera.  It cracks me up. 

I’m sure there will be times when you don’t like me as you grow up.  I remember…same happened with my mom and me.  But if at any time you wonder how much you mean to me please remember… you are my miracle and I fell in love with you as soon as I knew you were here with us.  You helped save me in more ways than one and for that I feel so blessed to have you call me your mom. 

Love, Mom

 

 

 

I pulled a Britney Spears!

Many cancer survivors say that losing their hair is one of the hardest parts of the fight.   While anticipating it I was obviously not excited for it to happen but I wondered, can it really be that bad?  I would be lying if I said that I don’t care about my looks…and anyone who knows me would call me out on that one.  But really “it’s a small price to pay”. 

The phrase “it’s a small price to pay” can resonate poorly with us Cancer Folks when used too loosely.  I believe I would be speaking for all of us when I say… yes these are small prices to pay to stay alive…we get it…but we are sick of hearing it.  If I were to tell any “normal” pregnant woman that she won’t ever get to breastfeed or that for the first 2-3 months of her newborn’s life she will be unable to care for her baby herself or that this may in fact be the last child she ever will conceive…these would be hard things for her to swallow.  Now add the fact that you have to walk around bald for a good 6 months to a year and you get your boobs cut off and you may go into early menopause AND it’s very likely you will have a hard time with weight gain for the next 10 years…whew! No big deal right?  And really these things are not big deals to me anymore.  There are many people who are going through much more than I am.  Lesson learned.  I can’t believe I used to complain about my hair being too thin or about how easy it was to gain a pound in my 30s.  

The thing is these concerns should be small prices to pay whether you are living with cancer or not.  I wish I could go back in time and tell myself that I shouldn’t have made such a fuss about the little things and that when things weren’t perfect, when I wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t the end of the world.  The great news is that God has given me a second chance to live my life the way I should.  To focus on the small things in life that do matter.  I know, this concept seems so cliché.  You hear it every time someone has a life changing event.  But it never really seems to sink in does it.  You might be touched by someone’s story and remember to stop and smell the roses for a week or two but then you go on with your life, freaking out about the same small insignificant things.  I’m speaking from experience.  This time I’ve got it.  It hit me smack between the eyes thank you very much.  I need to change my
perspective in life.  And I have.

For the last 3 weeks I have been preparing to lose my hair.  Knowing that this is what they say, “going to be one of the hardest parts of the fight”.  I got the wig.  I made it fun by incorporating shopping because that always makes me feel better!  I bought head wraps and beanies and fake eyelashes!  I would tuck my hair into one of the beanies and walk around the house looking at my reflection. But, when my hair started falling out I found myself not prepared at all.  For me, losing my hair was not about appearance and vanity.  It was not about my diminishing looks or not feeling pretty.  For me, losing my hair was about the reality.  The reality that I am sick.  I have cancer.  It’s the difference of showing up to read lines versus having a dress rehearsal.  Now I’m dressed to play the part.  Now Cancer stares back at me every time I look in the mirror.  It’s a constant reminder. 

But it’s true, once you shave it there is a huge feeling of relief.  You come to terms, you move on.  By the time I had what I will call my “Shaving Party” I already had come to terms with the reality.  I just wanted to move on and stop going through the daily routine of pulling handfuls of hair out of my head and picking it off my clothes and counter tops.  And therefore, my party was quite a success!  I couldn’t be more thankful for my wonderful life-long friends that hold me up high and support me through these tough times.  I am so blessed with girlfriends of 20+ years that can make me laugh at what could have been a really crappy experience.  If you come to a point where you find yourself needing to say good-bye to your hair I suggest you do what we did and make it a fun event.  Go extravagant!  Have it slightly resemble your wedding even!  Prepare your wig (don’t let your husband see you in it) and invite all of your bridesmaids over.  Drink wine (or pretend wine if you are pregnant) and cut your hair into a ton of different fun styles because this is the one and only time you can.  Shave some lightning bolts and steps on the side of your head if you can and then get ‘er done.  And of course don’t forget to take lots of pictures!

 

Because I still have not figured out what I am doing I gave up on formatting and sizing pictures and made a video.  It’s a little long and quite amateur but I hope you enjoy it!  A big thank you to my wonderfully talented girlfriends, Shannon Jo and Hilary!  As a stylist, Shannon is crazy-good at short-dos.  Hilary offered up her professional photography skills to capture the moment.  Also thank you to my other life-long girlfriends, my father-in-law, and my hubby... who all came along for the ride. Love you guys!