F U Anniversary

 Last year at this time I was sitting in a surgeons office thinking to myself: "I don't want her to do my surgery.  I wish she'd just stop talking!! I know what the paper says,  just freaking tell me so I can start looking for my team of doctors."

I knew it was bad, but the unexpected to a planner is brutal. SO MANY thoughts floating around in your head.

• *Who can I unload some of this mess on?*
•  What happens next?  
• Who can I trust with my life?  How do I decide what procedure should go first?  How do I know what is the best plan?
•  How am I going to tell my monsters? WHAT do I tell them? 
•  I wonder how my bosses are going to handle this? Who will do my work?  Will I have to quit? 
• Will my husband still be attracted to me?
•  ae;wo-NO!!-irehjt;oinhfa;gl-FUCK-kuewtproqu328570igai-WHY-h;oiugoi4uq23u (I had this type of thought A LOT.  I still do!)

But, here I am a year later. I (WE-this was totally a group effort) made it.

I'm different, but I'm still here.
 
I'm more in tune yet somehow more out of the loop.

Sometimes I get lost in my thoughts and have no idea what conversation is taking place in front of me.

Last night I played tickle torture right before bedtime.  I would have never done that a year ago!  Bedtime is supposed to be calm and relaxing.  {You know, GO THE F TO SLEEP!}  Now, I'll take the giggles whenever I can get them.

///////////////////////

So, this April 16th is different, but it's still difficult. I know the answer to all of the questions above now.  Now, really the only question relating to stupid, annoying, I-hate-you cancer is:

Will it come back?

And I think about this question A LOT.  More than I care to admit.

When my head hurts, I think it's spread to my brain.  When my arm feels heavy, I think it's the cancer coming back in my arm.  When my hips hurt because I'm old and I slept wrong, it just HAS to be spreading to my bone.  When I'm anxious and it feels heavy on my chest, I think it's gone to my sternum and most likely my lungs.  When I'm tired, it's taking over my body.  When I lose a couple pounds (I DO WANT TO LOSE A COUPLE (TEN!!) POUNDS...but not due to cancer;)), I eat more because I don't want to be losing weight because it scares me.

But I TRY and PRAY and SEEK ENCOURAGEMENT to concentrate on HOPE.

At Bible Study last week we talked about the notion that everything happens for a reason.  We talked about how much my fight has helped others with perspective or encouragement or even faith. Some were fighting right by my side, some followed from a distance, but ALL were able to see the light as I let my words spill out of my heart onto a blank sheet of paper for the world to read.

They reminded me that even though it has been a 'terrible, horrible, no good, very bad' YEAR, it has also been a wonderful, amazing, mess of a blessed year.

Thank you ALL for everything over the last year. I can never repay each of you for all you have done for my family, but I will be forever grateful.  I will concentrate my energy on hope and love with the intention of sharing it with all of you.  They are contagious you know?!  Cancer isn't contagious, but hope and love...they for sure are.  I know that in my heart.


All my hope and love,

** So-so-sooooooooo very fortunate to have so many survivors that double as my family and friends.  Some things/thoughts/feelings just can't be discussed with someone that hasn't been there. So unbelievably thankful for this bond we share.  I just wish it could have been over something more fun, like we all went streaking on a beach in Hawaii or something...maybe we should do that someday!?  We would frighten a lot of people!! :)



PS: I was going to list all of my survivor friends and ask ya'll to pray for them, but sadly there are TOO many to list without the risk of forgetting someone.  I have some that are in the WHAT IF stage that are freaking. Please pray for answers and more importantly peace.  I have some that recently started treatment, please pray for strength and the encouragement to start each day with the "blessed: even in the mess" attitude. For the warriors that are getting near the end of treatment, I ask that you pray for endurance and hope as they can taste that finish line it's so close!  For ALL of the survivors, please pray for peace and grace, love and hope.

Pray for a CURE.

These three monsters need one.

The Life of an Octopus-My Messy Beautiful

Hello new and old readers!  My name is Laura and I'm an octopus. I'm willing to bet you are too.


I'm also willing to bet you're thinking, "I wish I had 8 arms!!  Wouldn't that be amazing?" Multitasking at a whole new level! We could get SO much accomplished with 8 arms!!

But, really I'm an octopus because I feel like I have 3 hearts. Did you know that octopus have THREE hearts??  I didn't either until I took a road trip with my know-it-all monsters (aka children) this weekend by myself.  This revelation was BEFORE monster number three called out: "Mommy, I don't feel....BLEH"  Wouldn't it have been nice to have those extra six arms?  I probably could have grabbed a bag and caught the vomit!  Instead, monster #3 managed to get puke on not only him, but also the seat belt, the super annoying part of the car seat covered in fabric that takes 2 hours to disconnect and 4 hours to reassemble, inside the car seat cup holder and the little cubby on the side of the car seat, the pillow on the floor, his beloved stuffed animal that he HAD to bring, the floor, his shirt, his arm, AND his pants.

BUT, before the puking incident, I was lost in my thoughts about the octopus because of the three hearts, so back to the three hearts thing;)

I'm an octopus because I have three hearts.  They beat at different speeds and they demand my attention at different times, but they are always pumping.

One of my hearts finds its rhythm and feeds off of all of my negative emotions.  Honestly, sometimes I wish this heart would stop beating.  Yet, I know I wouldn't be the octopus-person that I am without this special heart beat. This heart beats faster when I hear of loss, sadness, illness, aching or struggle.  My sadness heart sometimes attempts to beat as the systematic heart (the one that feeds my entire body).  Sometimes I have to take a few steps back and catch my breath so that it doesn't take over as my most important organ. (It's not fun to fight depression, I promise!) When I see, and more importantly FEEL pain, this heart works harder.

This year, my sadness heart has been in overdrive.   Last April I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  When I found the cancer, it was already in my lymph nodes.  Since then, I've been through chemo, radiation and a couple surgeries. However, it wasn't any of the medical procedures that made my sadness heart hurt and scream in pain.

 

It was the delicate conversations with my three young monsters about cancer and hair loss and "are you going to die?"  It was carefully talking about "what-if" scenarios with my husband. It was calls from my baby brother where he didn't know what to say.  It was tears falling faster than anyone could catch from my mother who was just finding her stride again after losing my father to cancer after a long battle.  It was looking in the face of every.single.loved.one of mine and knowing that their sadness heart was ready to have a heart attack at any second-the pain in their eyes was palpable. It was finding the "new normal" with my friends that miss the more balanced octopus woman I used to be.  My sadness heart was taking over.

Still, my second heart was always, always present during the last year.  It's my favorite heart.  It doesn't bother me when this heart beats faster and I never wish that it would go into cardiac arrest.  My happy heart beats faster with each belly laugh and tickle torture, every smile and each hug, every occasion that the walls are brought down and truthful, loving conversations are enjoyed.  Or when I look at the card from my oldest monster: "Mom, You are very brave and I want to be like you when I grow up."  My happy heart pounds and causes my eyes to well with tears.  (Luckily, I'm an octopus and you can't see that I'm crying;)) It feels like my happy heart might simply burst when my little monsters tip-toe into my room and sneak into my bed oh so quietly so that the hubby doesn't catch them and return them to their bed.  They wiggle into my arms, so snug and sweet, and my happy heart aches with love.

Most importantly though is my HOPE heart.  This is the heart that I have to feed constantly, even resuscitate when necessary. It is the systematic heart and most important heart.  Without it beating, little pieces of my soul die off, one by one, never to be refueled with oxygen again.  When I hear of a friend that has just been delivered a craptastic diagnosis or worse when a precious child has to fight hard for their sweet life, I have to focus hard on my hope heart because my sadness heart tries so very hard to out pump it and steal the hope.  Sometimes, I think it would be so much easier to leave little pieces of my soul spread out over my tiny section of the world, but I know that all of the pieces together make me, me!

All of the hearts pumping in sync, my sadness and happy heart feeding my body and my hope heart feeding my soul, that's where the most love is.   It's the place where I feel content and full.  The place where I'm able to live each day, not worrying about the next. Happy and whole, able to sit back and enjoy both the smiles and the tears without allowing my heart(S) to harden.

It's where I can feel pain, but also joy.  Taking the time to feel the pain makes our joy that much more wonderful or as Glennon would say: Brutiful.  I'm learning to let go of the pain when it feels like I'm drowning and remember that I'm an octopus...I CAN SWIM! I'm letting my hope heart pump into each tentacle and forcing every suction cup to absorb the love.

This post can also be found at Momastery along with many other "Messy Beautiful" posts:
http://momastery.com/messy-beautiful-warrior-friends/

Let all three of your hearts beat in sync so that you're able to absorb all of the love. Feel it with all of your being and let go of the fear. Allow all three of your hearts a beat, but let your hope heart win.


Embrace your octopus,

Prayer Request for the Lowry Family

 So, there's this family that I know.  Nathan, the husband, is one of my forever friends.  His family was friends with my family so we were friends because we had to be at first.  You know, when our parents got together to play cards we were shoved into a basement and told to play nice. When we were older, we chose to be friends.  He has caught a lot of my tears and loves me despite knowing me.

When he got married to Jess after a SHORT courting period, I wondered if it would last.  They were so young. I justified my marriage at a young age with the fact that I had known Aaron my entire life (and because Lilly was growing in my belly oh, and because I loved him;)).

Despite my doubts, I bonded with Jess instantly.  I knew after a couple of times hanging out with her why Nathan fell so hard and fast.  She is honest and fun and caring and kind.  She is the type of person that makes you want to be a better mother, wife, friend, daughter, sister.  She is full of light.


After MANY infertility issues the couple faced, they were finally farther than the scary 12 week point with pregnancy. They were ELATED.  The two of them were both SO excited and couldn't wait to hold their sweet baby. At 23 weeks the doctor said she was a girl, a girl with Dandy Walker Syndrome with a 5% chance of survival. Her name was Ava. Ava had a nursery, little dresses and two parents who loved each other and loved her. Ava Violet was stillborn at 39 weeks and life changed.

They cried. They mourned.  They shouted to God.  But they didn't falter in their beliefs and they are now stronger than ever.

A couple of years ago, Jess sent me this message:

"While I was at the women's retreat this weekend I took a class on spiritual meditation. I pray, but don't spend much time in quiet contemplation and believe that it is important. So, I'm sitting in a room, listening to peaceful music & and imagery is being guided by the teacher. She says things like "god's light is a color, what color is it to you, focus on your color" etc and I'm there and listening but definitely not in that serious level of meditation. After about 10 minutes she says "choose a place in nature" and all of the sudden I saw a field with a waterfall behind it and a swarm of butterflies & I saw Ava. She was grown maybe 5 or 6 but wearing that little white dress with the pink flowers all over it that we buried her in. She was dancing in the butterflies with a man, I couldn't see his face, he was in a long white robe, he had long brown hair and she was smiling and laughing. It was like I was given a window to see through and just watch. Tears just kept pouring down my face, it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. When I wrote that letter to her about doing everything I could to be there with her in Heaven some day, it was like I was supposed to see that to remember the promise I made to her and get a glimpse of what that will be. I'm just hoping that I can store that image in my head, or maybe I'll be lucky enough to see it again, I haven't tried again because I'm nervous that I won't. I guess I wanted to share this with you because it was too special to keep to myself and I know how easy it is sometimes to look around and question things, especially at a time like this."

My friends have since been blessed with two handsome fellas, but still have so much light to offer.  They have applied to adopt a baby girl from Ethiopia to add to their beautiful family.  Below is a link to a fundraiser page and this is the one of the most beautiful lines from her request for support.

"God is taking great care of our daughter in heaven and now He is calling us to take care of one of His here."

Please pray for this family and the little girl they hope to care for as their own.  Donate if you're able.

She has shared a little of her story here:
https://www.purecharity.com/the-lowry-family-adoption?aff=138ba

So much love and so very proud to call them my friends,






Uploaded with ImageShack.us

Showing Up

Earlier this week I started a post titled: Busy Mom Against the World-Ship is Sinking.  I was going to write a post about the sinking ship.  It started like this: 

I started a series a two and a half years ago that gave some pointers that I use to juggle all of the balls that are always in the air without dropping too many of them.  I think I only wrote two/three posts on the subject, but either way I FELT pretty confident in my circus act.  All of the balls could be in the air simultaneously and rarely did I let any drop.

The balls vary during different seasons (of the year and of your life), but the most important ones never change: Family, Friends, Church, Work, Charity, Community Involvement, Exercise, Housework, Extra Curricular Activities, Etc.

I started that post a few days ago...before a couple friends voiced their concerns about me dropping their ball. I was already feeling stretched thin before they brought it to my attention, now I just feel like I'm close to dropping all of the balls. I'm tired of juggling them.  My head constantly aches and I'm tired, but I still have to show up.

If my children ask me what is important to maintain a good friendship, I tell them to show up (and be honest and caring and kind and...).  When your friend needs you, be there. Always.  One of my monsters has a friend that's dealing with some life issues right now.  I feel bad when I have to tell her no because I know she needs her friends right now.  I make every attempt to make time for her and my monster to play because I understand that the friendship bond is one of the strongest bonds people can share.

I thought I had this friendship thing down, but I hear that it's one of the balls that's close to dropping with my 'new normal'.  When someone calls and says they need me/miss me, I find time, but if nobody is facing a crisis, I'm just as content to lay on the couch and read while Aaron plays video games.  I used to have something scheduled every night of the week, but these days, I'm just as likely to be found in my pajamas by 6pm.  (I sent a few pairs to a friend having surgery and when Aaron brought them to his mother, he commented: What are you going to wear for the couple month/so?!?! He was only half joking...so I reminded him that I have 6 pair of pjs now and I'm only sending her 3!)

Anyways, back to the subject.  If you're going to be a good friend you have to show up. Not just when someone is in need, but always.  I'll probably get to the point where I thank them for the blunt reminder, but right now I'm just trying to digest the fact that they feel like the ball is falling through the air, deciding whether it will bounce back or slowly dribble to a stop.

When you're hurt, it's the hardest for passionate people to stay calm, it's more difficult to use grace and love, it's the hardest to show up.

This year I've fought/argued/disagreed/hurt feelers/had hurt feelers with my friends and family more than I have since I was 20ish. (Believe it or not, I used to be much MORE opinionated than I am now!! I know this is very hard to believe, but it's true!! ;)) I suppose it's because I needed to grow some more as a person. (I wish I could stop growing more physically, but I can't seem put down the girl scout cookies or the Lays Wavy OR pick up the remote and push start on the workout dvds!)  Anywho, I suppose I needed a few lessons on friendship. Growing through life is always a good thing.  Recognizing your mistakes, wrong turns, and failures is one of the best ways to grow.

I know that true friends disagree and the kinks work themselves out over time.  I spent some time with one of my friends that I had a disagreement with this year over the weekend and it was like we never missed a beat.  We laughed and hugged. She knows that I love her and I know she loves me.  Sometimes friendship is work, but you have to keep showing up.

How do you show up? Are you on time to catch and toss it back up or do you let the ball drop sometimes? 

Trying to juggle with grace,






This picture is only because I make fun of all my friends with gray hair and tell them that they need to color their hair!!  1 inch roots are the style...I'm making it a trend! (Really, I'm going today to get it done, but look how fast it's growing!! YAY!)

When something doesn't fit.

What do you do when something doesn't fit?

When my pants don't button, I tend to eat healthy and workout...or buy new pants;)

That's a pretty easy solution.

When I was diagnosed 10 months ago (wow, it seems like so much longer), there was a time period where I felt that I didn't fit. This was a new concept/feeling to me.  I have always "fit".  Honestly, I normally feel like I fit in with pretty much any crowd.

Please don't take this the wrong way, my friends and family didn't treat me any different.  They weren't mean.  They were sensitive to my needs and wishes.  They were not the problem.

First, it started with my lack of energy.  I couldn't keep up with the workouts I was used to completing.  I was used to working out with friends and that was three-five hours of girlfriend time.  When I could no longer complete a workout, I was missing out on this time. It was usually replaced by spending alone time laying down. *My friends ALWAYS offered to walk/modify the workout, but I didn't want to hold them up/slow them down.*


Then, I noticed myself staring off thinking about God-knows-what instead of conversing when I was with my friends or family.  I really had to concentrate to have a normal conversation about anything other than cancer.

Next, the part that was frightening to me, I thought maybe I no longer "fit".  At home, I would probe my bearded man with questions like:

Is it normal to want to stay home all the time when my whole life I have wanted action? 

Do you think I've changed?  Have my friends changed?  Why don't I want to go to X, Y, or Z?

Maybe I'm better off staying home.  If they want to stop by, they can.

Is it because I don't care about the little things anymore?  It's not exciting to go shopping for new clothes, they're just clothes.  I have no desire to talk about the weather or plans for next week or month because I don't know how I'll feel. I really don't care what my/anyone elses hair looks like at this point, but I know I'm supposed to notice and care that someone got highlights or a new do.

I'm nervous to go to this/that party.  I might have to talk to someone I don't know/want to talk to.

I thought they (my friends, most of whom I've known my ENTIRE life) were so different from me now. It was hard to have a good time when I did decide to go.  I was tired and distant and different.  I didn't fit.

And I REALLY struggled with it.  Why don't I fit in?! What is wrong with me?!

Now that I'm feeling better.  I'm back to working regular work hours.  I'm working out a few times a week.  I have a little more energy. My pants are much closer to buttoning again.

Now, I get it.

Depression.  I didn't know what depression was before my diagnosis. (No, that's a lie.  I've been depressed before, but I was aware that I was depressed...I mean, I sat in a room and watched a blank television screen for goodness sake.  This was different.  This time, I thought I just stopped fitting in and didn't understand what was wrong with me.)

I have witnessed depression.  The bearded man gets a small case of it every winter.  I have family and friends that deal with it.  But, I had never personally struggled with it over a long period of time.  The bearded man did say a couple times, "Maybe you should try the antidepressants".  (I shot laser beams out of my eyes into his skull each time he made that recommendation.)

Looking back, I am so very thankful that I had the monsters to keep me up and alive, forcing me to get off my *ever growing dumper and live.

When something doesn't fit, what do you do?

Just like pants, I guess you can work to make it fit or buy new.  I bought new. I worked to make the new life that consisted of more time at home and less running around fit.  I found great reward in cuddling more, reading more books, playing dumb board games (I hate board games...even before I was Dori I had an awful memory, now it's SHOT!), and drinking my tea while watching the kids fight over an ipod or book or one red crayon when we have 15 red crayons.

My old life of running around from one place to the next fit well before, but I don't want to return to it. I guess it's just always going to feel a little too tight to button comfortably.  

My goal is to end somewhere in the middle.  I think that place in the middle for me is called content and happy.   I'm really close right now.  I'm content at home and I feel confident and comfortable in social situations again.

Depression is most often a silent fight.  Like most of our battles, we usually fight them alone in the dark, behind closed doors.  But that doesn't make them any less real.

Hopefully, my friends and family are happy that I've returned from la-la land and can actually have a conversation without tuning out. Some of them might prefer that I stay there...I give my opinion A LOT less when I'm in la-la land;)

*SDD description of her @$$ when she was prego, but I think it accurately describes my @$$ over the course of this year.  It continued to grow and grow until very recently when I decided it was not healthy to let it continue to grow.

Keep fighting to make it fit,

This picture really has no reason to be on this post, but I love it, so I'm sharing with you.  If you're fighting, pray.  It's the best way to make things fit.

I can't breathe again...

I'm trying REALLY hard not to let Satan blow it out this week.

But.  I can't breathe.

I'm sore and tired and weak.  Barely strong enough to hold it together right now.  I was thinking hoping praying that I would start gaining strength each day.  Begging for less aches each night during the first week.  I didn't want to get used to them, I wanted them gone.

Week two and already I realize that's simply not in the cards.  I just need to get used to this 'new normal' that fellow survivors have told me about.

Well, new normal blows.  I will gain some strength back and I did get to play volleyball for two hours this weekend.  But the aches aren't going anywhere.

So, I'm coping with this realization.  I know that it will get easier as my body adjusts to the new normal.  Already, I know that I need to give my body time to wake up a bit before I hop out of bed...I USED to be one of those annoying people that popped right out of bed, showered and started the day with an annoying spring in my step.  Now, I stretch my arms and legs before I crawl to the sitting position and then stretch a little more before I stand up.  (Part of this could be because I'm an old 32 years of age now;))

Anyways, I'm coping with this the best way I know how: patience and rest.  I've started to work out a little bit and hopefully that will help...but that's not what has taken my breath away!

------------------------------------------------

"In my sexy mamo gown in honor of you!!" complete with a smiling photo.

Good girl!! Sexy;)

A few days pass...

Got the call...have to go back for another Mamo and appointment with the radiologists:/ 

Well fuck!!!! When are you going and where?  I'll come and keep you company if I can.

It's fine.  If I have to go for a biopsy or some other tests, you can come.  I can get another squish by myself.  Change from my mam last year..."Ill defined mass."

And our conversation continued like this the rest of the week.  I'm worrying for her.  She is convinced she just needs another squish.  Everything is fine.

But me, well, I wish I were that optimistic.  Instead, I think thoughts like:

There were 15 people at bunco...one in 8.

I can't watch one of my best friends go through this right now. 

I'm not strong enough to help her right now.  

I'm not brave enough to look at her babies and understand first hand what hell their mommy is going to have to endure and how their life is going to be flipped the fuck upside down.

And I start researching again.  And it makes that can't breathe feeling come back again.  And I'm distant and scared again.

There are hundreds of sites like this one:  http://www.breast-cancer.ca/screening/mammographic-mass-characteristics.htm ILL DEFINED MASS

------------------------------

Last week another one of my close friends came over and told me that his mother has it. I couldn't breathe.  I told him EXACTLY what I DESPISED hearing: She's going to be fine.  They don't even know what they're dealing with yet and it may NOT be fine.  Yet, it just rolled right off of my tongue.
 There isn't anything that can be said when you hear the news.

 ------------------------------

I wonder if it will get easier for me to hear?  I hate hearing that someone else has to endure treatments.  HATE it.  Like instantly it makes me want to vomit.

And it takes breathe away.  This week is moving at ultimate turtle speed.  What if my beautiful friend has it?

I can't breathe again.  I can't stop thinking about her and what if.  I know that worry does not help/change anything, but I'm begging and pleading with God in her name while this week slowly moves to the retest date.

I wish I could get off of the roller coaster ride.  Actually, I think it might be more difficult to stop my head from spinning now that the ride has slowed down?!

                                                         ------------------------------
Deep breath.  After lots of photos, squishes and an ultrasound, my friend received the clear!! Lots of prayer this week.  Big, loud, noisy prayers.

Dodged a great big bullet today.

With a great big sigh of relief for my friend, but continued prayer focus on healing for Rod's momma,


Laura

Happy Valentine's Day!

 I helped Cam make her box for Valentines day.  I told Keegs to ask Dad for help so they could make it more rough and tough, more boyish.

 Amused, loving, awesome, supportive wife: Ummmm, honey, you need to make the hole bigger!  Do you need me to help you make the hole bigger?

Bearded Man (with eye roll): Why? It's just for valentines, right?  How big does it need to be??

Cami: It needs to be longer AND wider, daddy.  People send treats and stuff, too.

(I must admit, I was laying on the couch doing NOTHING other than read on this particular night, so the BM was probably highly irritated with my lack of motivation and ready to strangle me at any minute.)

Amused, loving, awesome, supportive wife: You need to do more than just make the top white, sweetheart.  Draw the batman signal or something!

Bearded Man: I thought this was Keegan's project?

Amused, loving, awesome, supportive wife: Keegan's FAMILY project.  I do most of his FAMILY projects for with him.  You got this.  You can do it, honey.

Bearded Man: This is stupid.  I don't even believe in celebrating Valentine's Day!!

Amused, loving, awesome, supportive wife: You have three living creatures that would suggest otherwise!

BAHAHAHA.  I love Valentine's day!! Even more now that there is zero chance of an additional monster;)  (March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, NOVEMBER=9...Three monsters born in November;))