Introducing One of the World’s Smallest Cancer Survivors!

My sweet Amari,

Let me tell you the story of when you were born!

Never have I felt more anticipation, excitement, and fear all at the same time.  May 6th was finally here!  Time to meet you!  Before we entered the hospital your dad and I said a prayer together that everything would be ok- that we would all be in safe keeping. 

Dr. Wothe, the resident “Baby Whisperer” was called in to see if he could flip you around since you were breech but his Version Technique was no match for you.  You were right where you wanted to be and you weren’t moving.  So it was on to the C-section, something I didn’t want but I was quick to accept.  I felt maybe there was a reason….maybe you just knew that there would be more complications with a natural labor in the end. Yes, funny to think that an unborn infant has intuitions but from the beginning of this journey I’ve always felt that we were in this together and that you were always protecting me, as I promised to protect you.

Unfortunately we received some unanticipated news.   Since it was certain you’d be in the NICU and that today was the day, we were supposed to have a room reserved.  But, understandably they had ran out of rooms due to a rush of deliveries.  So we were sent home, worried, because in my situation every single day counts and we weren’t sure when a room would open.  I had already stopped my chemo for a little over a week and now that I needed a C-section I would require more down time to recuperate – leaving me unprotected.  Here we had emotionally prepared ourselves for what was about to happen and we were being sent home.  I felt devastated.  Our doctor did too.   She did everything she could to see if we could get in at that time. 

Everything seems to work out for a reason though.  It was only a short time until they called us back in again.  This gave us some time to go home and get some more things wrapped up before you came. Grandpa and Grandma Serbus already had arrived to help. It also allowed us some time to try to make this feel more normal.  We rushed back to the hospital, excited, just like we would have if my water had broken.

And so, at 9:05pm you entered this world…both of your parents, nervous as ever, but faithfully trusting that all would be ok.   You were 3 pounds and 13 ounces.  One of the most precious things that has ever graced my ears is hearing your cry for the first time.  The second most precious thing…hearing the words, “She has hair!”.   Hair meant the chemo hadn’t touched you.  Hair was something I was hoping for.  Just to reconfirm what I knew, that you were going to be ok.  We saw you for a brief moment and then you were wheeled away.  Oh how that hurt.  I barely saw your face.  I didn’t get to look at you and study every little inch; see if I could make out which features were from me and which were from your dad.  It was as if I got a glance of a celebrity surrounded by bodyguards getting hurried away. 

It took several hours to control my pain.   I don’t really remember but I believe it was close to 1 am before I finally got to really meet you….and that’s when my heart melted.  How perfect you were!  It was hard to see all of the wires.  We learned that your lungs were still underdeveloped so you were on a ventilator and receiving a drug to help your little lungs grow quicker.  The next couple days were emotionally hard as we waited to see you progress and get stronger.  When we came down to visit it was still so difficult to see your face with all the wires, tubes, and masks.  I felt terrible…that it was my fault that you had to endure this….if it wasn’t for my body failing me, if it wasn’t for my cancer.  I wanted to hold you.  I missed that closeness we shared when I was pregnant. 

The first time I got to hold you was three days after you were born.  They call it Kangaroo Care, skin to skin contact that is proven to help preemies progress.  It was such a production.  I believe there were four nurses there working quickly to remove you from the incubator to my chest.  Your dad looked on nervously; his protective nature was having a hard time with this.  I think the Kangaroo Care may have helped me as much as it helped you.  I cried as I finally got to hold you in my arms.  You were so tiny! The time was brief but it made such a difference. One day later I told the nurse that we barely had seen your face.  She was so nice; she decided we could move the phototherapy mask.  And at that moment we really saw you!  You were alert, your eyes open!  You just stared at each of us…. your dad, me, your Uncle Adam.  Our eyes locked and I felt that bond, it was magical!  Looking into your eyes I felt an unexplainable connection.  We had already been through so much together.  What you were enduring at that moment was a sacrifice for me; just as I had sacrificed for you…nothing more could define our love for each other. 

After that special moment things changed quickly.  The next day we got to hold you longer and following that they slowly removed each one of the wires.  And as true fighters do, you continued to surprise everyone with your spirit.  Within two and a half weeks we were heading home!  You were way ahead of the game, eating on your own and everything. 

As I type this, six weeks have passed since you’ve been born.  You sure do turn heads.  It’s hard to even go shopping as people constantly are stopping us to see how tiny you are.  So many people were excited to meet you.  Your grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, family and friends lined up! We even had people asking about you at the Chemo Lounge!  You’ve blessed our life and turned it upside down in so many ways.  Your dad and I used to have everything so under control and now we are flustered in everything we do!  We laugh at ourselves as we do everything everyone told us we would do as first time parents.   We laugh as we constantly fight over who gets to hold you!  I love when I catch the cutest pictures of you snuggling on your daddy’s chest.  You both look so peaceful.  There are moments that I wish I could just freeze in time….when all 4 of us are snuggling in bed on a Sunday afternoon or when I’m holding you and you are fighting to not fall asleep, making those cute faces.  Pumpkin, I love every minute of being your mommy!  There is nothing that makes me want to fight harder.

Love,
Mom

 

“Fearless”

I had a dream the other night.  My little girl was swinging in a park.  Ben was playing fetch with our dog, Miken, close by.  Everyone looked happy.  There was a woman pushing her on the swing….that woman was not me.

Here’s one thing I’ve learned, when you are pregnant you dream like crazy- this is common.  While I have lots of silly dreams that really make no sense I know where this one comes from.  It comes from fear.

A couple nights ago I lay in bed, feeling the tumor that hangs out in my left breast.  It’s gotten bigger in the last couple weeks.  Not as big as it was in the beginning – but it hasn’t continued to shrink.  I also can feel a second tumor in my lymph node which provides a constant aching pain.  My oncologist said it’s most likely due to the last stages of my pregnancy.  My estrogen is at an all-time high.  The cancer which resides in my milk duct and feeds off of estrogen has a direct line to it.  They say a pregnant woman will produce more estrogen during her pregnancy than in the rest of her entire lifetime as a whole and as you can imagine there’s a steady climb of it to the very end.  It’s because of this that our care counseling session offered news that came quite unexpected.  I will deliver much earlier than anticipated, May 6^th to be exact, at 32 weeks.  We had a team of doctors, specialists, and nurses in a room to discuss our situation.   They discussed the risks.   The risk of continuing my treatment which is limited with the baby in me versus the risk of taking the baby before she naturally wants to come.  We always expected it would be planned and earlier than term but because of this now slowed response to treatment the plan has been bumped up a month.  The Neonatologist went through the statistics with us.  We learned there is very little risk to take the baby at 32 weeks.  In fact, in most of their graphs they showed us there was nothing listed past 29 weeks because the risk was so minimal.  Of course, they were talking about major concerns. There are the little things.  For example, we officially have a room on reserve at the Special Care Unit.  She will most likely live there for her first month of life.  We had to tour the NICU, just in case.  They don’t expect her to go here but if she has problems breathing she may be there a couple nights.  I’m getting 2 steroid shots 48 and 24 hours before delivery to help her lungs prepare for this world.  She also will be small and need to catch up both physically and mentally but this usually takes place in the first year.  Let’s be honest, lots of babies are early and are just fine.  Once she’s out we can begin to fight this effectively by stopping the production of the estrogen that continues to make my body a happy environment for this crappy disease. 

In the beginning of this journey I was filled with fear.  Fear of the unknown.  Fear of dying.  Fear for my unborn child.  I believe through many prayers I was relieved of this.  I had the most astonishing peace and I was truly in my battle zone.  Admittedly, in the past couple weeks that fear has crept back in.  It’s to be expected.  All warriors have their moments of doubt.  Think of the great action movies you’ve seen.  It’s at that moment when the fighter feels like he can’t go on anymore that a surge of power and belief in oneself lifts him up and he finishes off the fight.  That’s what makes a good battle.  I think back to running.  When running long races there’s always “the hill”.  The point where you get tired and discouraged and you push through and persevere and a wave of energy comes back.  Once over “the hill” that energy carries you home to the finish line.   I wonder if that’s where I am.  This news…it brings on the climax of the story that’s coming.  The upcoming moment of delivering with a body that’s been beat up the last 5 months.  There’s more of the unknown as they plan to deliver our little girl 2 months early.  She’s still breech.   A C-section is the last thing we want; it halts my continuation of treatment after.  Hearing my cancer seems to be “chemo insensitive” at this time and thinking about a lapse in treatment on top of that is hard to swallow.  I continue to have chronic side and rib pain.  Originally the doctors felt it could be an ulcer so we treated it as such.  Then we checked for a blood clot which was a nothing.    The doctors are fairly certain that this is pregnancy related but there’s always the worry that it’s progressed cancer which has made its way to my bones.  We won’t know until I can do my PET scan….scheduled May 9^th, immediately after it’s safe because baby is out.  The accumulation of these recent events and news brings on fear and discouragement.

I finished a book not long ago, “Fearless” by Max Lucado.  I believe everyone facing a life threatening situation should read this book.  Scratch that, everyone…period… should read this book. 

Fear creeps in for me unexpectedly.  I’ll be going on with my daily routine and suddenly I’ll begin to think about Ben and what I would want for him if I’m gone.  Would I be ok if he remarried?  Of course, I would want him to be happy.  Would I want her to make him happier than I did?  Would we be together in the after-life?  While I’m painting our little girl’s nursery my mind wanders to a thought of my daughter waiting to walk down the aisle…wishing her mom was there to see her now. While organizing gift wrap, I think of my family having their first Christmas without me. 

Max Lucado says that fear is a natural emotion and we use it to help our bodies sense danger; but that does not mean that we need to let fear take control.  In the bible there is no other command that God urges more than to not be afraid or have fear.  And rightfully so, there is no reason to be afraid when we have God on our side.  Over Easter I realized this.  While sitting in church I listened to numerous stories of how Jesus healed people.  The Gospel is plump full of this among many other miraculous things He did.  And here’s the kicker….Jesus was real….let me rephrase…is real…He walked on this earth….there are accounts of this happening in history.  Yes, I am human and like many of you there have been times that I question my faith.  Trust me, you really start to think about those things when you’ve been told you have a diagnosis that many people have died from.  But it’s not hard to grasp that my God walked on this earth and healed people some 2000 years ago and for that same reason I can expect to be healed as well! 

The opening of the book talks about a story in Matthew where Jesus is on a boat with His disciples.  There is a terrible storm.  All of the disciples are freaking out and Jesus takes a nap.  And when they go to Him asking Him how He could be so calm and why He isn’t up and helping He asks, “Why are you fearful, O you of little faith?”.  Good question.  With a track record like His I really have nothing to worry about because regardless, in my situation, the end result will be good.  This big nightmare of a storm that I’m facing is of mere, little concern to God.  It’s not that He doesn’t care; He just doesn’t sweat the small stuff.  I don’t just got this…He’s got this!

And as I’ve said before, I am in no way super human.  Just because I’ve lain fear to bed once doesn’t mean it won’t hit me again.  Just a couple days ago I saw that a young lady my age passed away after battling my same diagnosis for only a year and a half.  I was shaken and didn’t know it until I couldn’t concentrate during a customer presentation I was giving.  Afterwards I prayed to God that I wouldn’t go to that place again in my head….and then, I received a call right at that moment. My pastor was calling because I was heavy on his heart.  I told him he had good timing.  He told me “God has good timing”. 

God has good timing…that struck a chord with me.  God does His finest work when He’s got your attention…and boy, does He got my attention now!  I’m in His care.  It’s not my plan, it’s His. To quote Mr. Lucado, “His call to courage is not a call to naïveté or ignorance.  We aren’t to be oblivious to the overwhelming challenges that life brings.  We’re to counterbalance them with long looks at God’s accomplishments.”  This lesson has brought me to a new place.  When I feel scared or discouraged I now know where to turn.  My focus shifts to those things that are true, honest, just, lovely, and of good report.   I look to those little things that I’ve seen along the way that help me remember I’m held in His balance and care….and then I feel safe.

Complete with pictures...

If there's one thing the doctor ordered it's a one-way ticket out of this frozen tundra of hell!  OK no, I'm kidding, I don't have enough guts to truly leave this place...only because I would miss my family and friends of course.  But, we settled for a fun filled vacation with great friends and tons of sun in Florida.  It truly did make me feel better.  The dryness of this state during the winter does a number on a chemo patient.  Florida's humidity was refreshing.  Here's a quick look at some much needed R&R...and yes, it took me over a month to post these.  


We miss you Greg (he was home cooking during this photo)



Time for an old fashioned airboat ride in the 'Glades!

I told him to hold it like a baby...I think he may need more practice



A little too close for comfort!

22 weeks!
 



This guy is my inspiration!  Our friend Gus has underwent 6 brain surgeries in the past year.  That's a lot of baldness in one pic!



Health Update

I’ve had a lot of people ask about my current health status considering I am almost halfway through my treatments.  Since cancer seems to be more of an emotional battle than a physical battle at times, I sometimes forget to provide these updates but I do know people care and want to know how I’m doing.

On March 10^th (a week and a half ago) I went in for my fourth and final AC treatment.  My mom and Aunt Vicky were there to support me.  This is somewhat of a crowning moment (if there is such a thing) during one’s breast cancer fight.  Having your last AC treatment means the worst is about to be over.  But first, you have to get through the next 2-3 weeks of the worst and that brings me to today.  My doctor explains it like this….”Say I give you 10 pounds for your first treatment.  At the end you give me 5 pounds back.  Then for your second I give you another 10 but you still have 5 left over.  At the end of your second you give me 5 pounds back but you have 10 left over….and so on”.   So I’m going into this last AC treatment with 15 pounds of cumulative garbage. 

I remember when I first started my treatment.  My blood counts looked great.  I was a healthy 32 year old despite the fact that I had a big tumor hanging out in my left breast.  Now I look at my counts and I have low and high markers riddled over the page.  For example, the reason my muscles ache immediately when I try to exercise is that my hemoglobin is low and that’s what carries the oxygen to them.   Chemo attacks my bad cells that are trying to overtake my body but it also kills off my good fast-growing cells.  That of course is why I lose my hair and as of recent, my eyelashes and eyebrows (something that I find even harder to deal with than the hair…my eyelashes used to be one of my favorite attributes).  

The lining of your stomach and intestines is also made up of fast reproducing cells and therefore, they are no fight for chemo…you lose a lot of the protective lining in your gut as well.  This is why patients have problems with constipation and nausea.  I’ve been lucky to not feel these effects but in the past 5 weeks my resulting symptom came on as a numbing ulcer.  This being the worst of my treatment, I’ve also had terrible heartburn which makes my ulcer flare up even worse.   The pain is constant, always nagging me on my upper left side.  Last week they wanted to rule out any other more severe causes of the pain before they provided a diagnosis.  They ran a D-dimer blood test to see if the culprit was a possible blood clot moving to my lung.  The test came back elevated and I ended up hanging out at the doctor’s office all day going through ultrasounds to ensure there were no clots in my legs.  Lucky me, it turned out to be a false positive and by process of elimination they ruled my pain as an ulcer.  In the past week this nagging pain has moved on to an excruciating, piercing pain moments after I eat.   Historically, days 7-14 of my treatment cycle have been the worst; I hold on to the fact that I am at day 10…this is almost over!

I’m still experiencing terrible dry mouth.  This may sound like nothing but it is actually quite annoying because when I try to sleep my mouth literally dries shut and my nose becomes very congested, making it hard to breath.  This results in a terrible sleeping pattern of constantly getting up to drink water and then waking up 30 minutes later to go to the bathroom.  I pray that God blesses me with a baby that sleeps well.  I think it would be quite a deserving consolation prize!

Understand now why my blog isn’t a focus of my health updates?  It would be rather depressing.  The good news is that I have yet to get “sick”.  Everyone I know, including my dog even, has had a cold this winter.  I, on the other hand, have managed to stay clear of the winter cold this year despite my compromised immune system.  Could this be a product of all your prayers? Also, I'm happy to report that my tumor has shrunk substantially.  It's about the size of a pencil eraser!

We’ve all heard of the mid-life crisis but could there be such a thing as the “mid-treatment crisis”?  If so, I think I had it this weekend.  Last Sunday I had a meltdown after I experienced a wig malfunction.  Of course, it was the wig that triggered what I believe was just a need to let all the bottled emotion out.  While trying to remain strong through all of this I have continually pushed the bad stuff deep down inside me.  That now 25 pound garbage bag finally became too heavy to carry and I lost it.  In the end, the wig problem worked itself out (they are replacing my defective one) and that moment of crisis played well into another chapter of my love story with my husband.  He was there to comfort me and worked on helping me untangle my wig for over an hour.  Where would I be without him through this?

While typing this post I’m reminded of a life lesson.  I sit here telling my stories of minor problems that I face today and in the background I listen to the news of a girl who was kidnapped, molested, and murdered and a women whose husband is missing because he was on Flight 370 and a lady with no face who was mauled by her pet chimpanzee.   Little girl:  I’m sure there will be a moment in your life when you feel the world is coming to an end.  Maybe your boyfriend has cheated on you with another more popular girl or one of your friends was talking behind your back or your team lost an important game…Life is filled with sad, difficult, and even tragic moments but remember somewhere out there, there is someone who is experiencing something even worse than you.  I believe God uses difficult moments in our lives to teach us, make us stronger, and draw us closer to Him.  Most importantly we need these moments to appreciate the beauty in life.  We say in Minnesota that we appreciate the summers more because we endure the harsh winters.  Would the sun be so great if we didn’t experience a cloudy day?  I look back to our honeymoon and remember feeling absolute bliss as we took a ferry to tour the French Riviera.  We ended up at one of the most beautiful white beaches in San Tropez where Ben and I wrestled each other in the water.  I remember walking the streets of Paris with our friends.  I cherish these moments even more now and I look forward to more moments like this in the future.  While at our Childbirth Prep class this weekend many were complaining about not receiving a voucher for parking.  Ben and I laughed as we talked about how we have to pay $10 for parking each time we come to the hospital- some weeks it’s been every day.  My sweet baby:  remember to keep your life in perspective.  And while I am not trying to downplay what you are experiencing or push away your emotions I want you to remember that in the end the good always outweighs the bad.  You will look back at these moments and laugh that you worried so much.

Pity Party

I’ve mentioned before that not every day is a great day… my positive hat falls off from time to time.  Some days I feel more at peace and full of joy than I even did before the diagnosis. Other days I get down and yes, even feel sorry for myself…call me a normal human being. 

One of my favorite parts of any normal day used to be after work when Ben and I would go to the gym and I’d have some “Athena time”.  Working out or running was my release, considering I office at home and need some time to separate work from life.  But lately, as you can imagine, the gym has been a tough place for me.  I will be honest, the first time I went to the gym without my hair was hard and honestly it hasn't gotten much easier.  My belly has been growing in rapid speed now and it shows clearly through my tight gym clothes.  I notice that everyone is looking at me out of the corner of their eyes.  That’s understandable. I would wonder what the heck was going on too.  A bald, pregnant woman?  I realize they are looking on with concern but still it’s tough to be the one that stands out as something that’s hard to understand.  Obviously pregnancy brings on quite a change to a woman’s body.  Couple that with the changes contributed from chemo and it’s a lot to take on when you look in the mirror.   I wish I could have every young woman/teenager experience this feeling.  You learn a lot about yourself when you are stripped of your physical attributes.  The gym no longer serves as a place to clear my thoughts but rather a place where they flood my brain and I have to deal with a lot of different emotions.  Again, this is a process of growth for me and some days it’s empowering and some days it’s hard. 

Chemo + Pregnancy = Muscle Fatigue…duh, no kidding.  It blows my mind how I can actually feel this drug cycle through my body.  The first couple days after an infusion my heart races from the steroids and I think I should go burn this off at the gym.  But as soon as I begin running it’s as if I did 100 squats right before.  My legs feel like jello within the first half mile even. I’ll do about 10 reps of free weights and it feels like I am at the tail end of a 3 hour workout.  I have 3 weeks between each treatment.  During my third week I gain my strength back and I actually feel quite sad when the “Sunday Before” comes around.  Then I know it starts all over again the next day.   About a month ago I was talking about how The Big C couldn’t keep me down and I was able to top off 5 miles still.  I knew it was only a matter of time where those miles would shorten and my run would come to a jog and even a walk.  After 4 infusions and 24 weeks of pregnancy I’ve had to set different goals that are more reachable.  But here’s the secret…I am still winning as long as my mind is in the right place.   When physical activity or a sport has a big part of your life it is tough to see these changes.  I’ve always correlated physical strength and endurance with inner strength and perseverance.  Now that inner strength needs to channel from elsewhere.   

You’ll find that inner strength is harder to come by when you’ve been stripped of many of the things that make you happy:  good health, energy, physical strength, looks.  And so Debbie Downer comes out to play for a day and she feels oh so sorry for herself.  “I’ve worked so hard to get where I am at.  Why do I have to go through this now?” “Ben and I are in the midst of starting a family, one of the happiest times of our life.  Why this dark cloud during what should be this sweet time?”  “This is not fair!  I lead a healthy lifestyle, why me?” “Why can’t I ever catch a break?  It’s one thing after another”….blah, blah blah… Debbie goes on and on. 

One of the hardest things to do during times of trial and tribulation is to count your blessings.  But, what I’ve found is that this is the most critical time to do so.  Otherwise you go down this path of self-pity and that gets you nowhere.  Then poof, inner strength diminishes and your fight becomes well…rough.  I’ve learned that concentrating on ways I’ve been blessed brings on healing- emotional and physical.

So here goes:

I am so blessed to have my friends and family beside me through this.  Even those that I don’t know well who have reached out, you touch my heart.  The visits, the thoughts, text messages, prayers, gifts, meals, chemo trips and outreach of help- they make me feel so so special. 

I am blessed to have the love of my family and in-laws.  They are always ready to help me take on anything.  They all call and visit me regularly, I feel spoiled.  My dad (who’s not a big phone talker) now calls me almost daily to check in.  I have to be honest, it’s quite the perk for this ordeal.   

I have been blessed with the best husband! Hey, if your relationship ever needs a pick-me-up you might want to try cancer!  Just kidding of course but there’s something that happens when a life-threatening illness interrupts your life and you realize that those little arguments were not worth it.  You stop taking each other for granted and make the most out of each moment you have with each other.  I feel like I’ve fallen in love again- only this time much harder.   The night of my first chemo treatment Ben (who is border-line narcoleptic) stayed up with me because I could not sleep and comforted me.  I will never forget that moment.  I cried myself to sleep that night and my tears were only a product of deep, abiding, overflowing love for him.  Thank you Cancer!  Without you, non-emotional old-me would have probably never felt that.  We now have a marriage that’s stronger than ever.  Just in time to welcome our new addition (I’d call that another blessing….and she’s healthy!  Need I say it?).

Certainly not last on the list….I’ve been blessed with life, this life on earth and eternal life from God.  I don’t have to live life in fear anymore…of those haunting statistics related to the grade of my tumor.   Constant worry of what might take place in the future is now changed to a focus of living each day like it may be my last.  If I live to be 100 years there is still not enough time to waste worrying about Cancer or whether I get everything done on my to-do list or if I’ll close a big deal or how the lady on the next treadmill keeps trying to sneak a look at me.  

And there we are!  See you later Debbie.  I feel much better…

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!