2013 First Day of School

Lilly: Third Grade-Mrs. Kissell

 

Lilly set her alarm, was dressed and had a waffle in the toaster before I was out of the shower.  Where did my baby go?  She was jumping up and down as I forced her to eat her breakfast and could not wait to go to school.  The boy that we tease her about is in her class for the first time this year and we are having a riot teasing her about him:)  All smiles from big sis on her first day!

 Bus Crew 2013!  Camille can't wait until her staggered start day when she gets to join them!

 Keegan: Preschool Year 2-Mr. Swindel

 

Momma's boy!

 

Looking good with his new do!  

Last year Keegan didn't want to get on the bus.  I was worried he would be hesitant and teary since he didn't have Camille to sit with this year.

 

Instead, he didn't want to give me a hug and obviously didn't want me to snap his picture! And Miss Beth was loving it:P

 

 

Camille: Kindergarten-Mrs. Melter

 

She might have been chewing on the sign that Diane Thatcher made.  It might have bled allllll over her hands and mouth and I MIGHT have wanted to scream!  But, I might have held it together because Cami is EXTREMELY sensitive and she was in a good mood and I didn't want to ruin it! 

 

Preschool Year 2, Kindergarten, 3rd Grade: MOMSTER and monsters are very excited to be back in school this year.  Routine, early bed times and morning cuddles!

 

Cami got to get a new back pack this year even though she didn't really need one.  I said yes mostly because she wanted an OSU and because she needs the reassurance from her peers that things are cool and Carson has the same one:)

As you can see, the smiles are MUCH bigger when she's at home, in her comfort zone.  As we walked to the bus stop, her grip tightened and tears started to form. 

 

I took the picture of the full bus crew and gave her a hug.  She whispered that she wanted me to stay until the bus arrived, so I did.  Luckily, Olivia is one of the older kids that Camille adores and when I asked her to take Cami's hand, she did it with a smile.

 

AND at school she found one of her besties and she's safe and sound in her class.  WITH a smile:)

 

 

 Since my monsters all started on a different day, I didn't want to blow up everyone's newsfeed each morning and thought I'd share here instead.  I hope all of the teachers and students had a great first week!  Go Wildcats!

 

 

 

Two week countdown

Today is the first day that I haven't had something to plan AND my mind is somewhat recovered from the party.  I arrived at work and I attempted to catch up on as much of the administrative work as possible.  The rest of the week I will wrap up the few client files that I have active and make notes on how to do most of the tasks I normally handle.

Two more weeks. 

Since I'm wrapping up at work and slowing down to spend more time with the kids and Aaron at home, I only have the surgery to think about.  Not a big sleepover, not a retreat, not a party, just surgery.

Two more weeks.

My mind wanders there often.  I have to set mini goals throughout the day so that I can accomplish anything other than WORRY. 

How long until Keegan will be able to give me a giant bear hug again?  He thought that every other week was a long time not to be able to squeeze me after I would have chemo treatment.  Post-op no bear hug is going to seem like eternity to him. 

Lilly asked me this morning if she has any games before surgery and if I will be there to watch her at all after surgery.  They hear everyone asking me about it and they know it's coming sooner rather than later.  Lilly wants to know every detail of her day and she's used to my planning out every minute of every day.  She knows that I know how many games I will see before surgery and how many I think I'll make post-op, but I don't want to tell her.  A month seems like a long time to me; it seems even longer to a child. 

Camille woke up in the middle of the night last night.  She didn't wake me up or even crawl into bed with me.  She tiptoed into my room, kissed my cheek and went back to her bed.  And I cried myself back to sleep.

Two more weeks.

Thankfully, I received a handout at the (AWESOME) retreat that I attended this weekend and I started to work on it tonight.  It is full of ideas on how to deal with anxiety, stress, etc. I have reminders that I wear everyday with words like: Blessed, Believe, Hope.  Amazingly, I met a new friend exactly at the moment that I needed someone to talk to last night. I was able to speak candidly with her about some of our fears and insecurities.  She walked by and I could have waved and smiled, but instead I called her over and asked her about her day.  An hour later we both left the park feeling a little less alone. I am taking time to remind myself of ALL the many blessings that surround me each and every day, but in the back of my mind I'm always thinking...

Two more weeks.

Two more weeks until I turn 32.  Quite some time ago at a Bible Study, we read a story about how Jesus and his disciples went away to rest, but people found him and needed him.  Rather than turn them away and tell them that they needed to refill their own cup or take a moment to rest, he worked harder.  He taught them many things and he instructed his disciples to feed them. 

In my mind, this was validation for me overdoing it.  I joked with my friends at Bible study something to the tune of: See, Jesus never took a break.  He went to the boat in an attempt to rest, but when push came to shove, he acted with compassion for those eager to hear His word.  I'm just trying to do more, be more, love more, care more.

And a friend pointed out:  Well, you only have a couple more years if you're going to continue to emulate His life.

I knew what she meant.  Jesus was a young man when He died.  Many believe Him to be around 33.(I'm sure some would like to argue His exact age, but that's really not the point of this post).  You know, right around my age!

We all laughed about how my friend shut me up with ease and all agreed that I should probably slow down a bit;)

But in two more weeks I'll be 32 and the very next day I'm having a major surgery.  A surgery that has a big part in how long I'll be around to do and be more. I can't help but to think of our study that day.  When will my work here be done?

Two more weeks until surgery, staging, and checking the cells to see if chemo killed all of the active c-word cells. While I'm writing about surgery, I should answer the question most people have asked: how long is my vacation booked at the Cleveland Clinic?  Depending on the time of day that they start my surgery, I will be in the hospital one or two days.  I plan to stay at my brothers house for a day or two after they release me so that I'm closer in case of an emergency and because I'm not going to be able to do anything for/with my children anyways for a week or so.  Once I return home, I plan to hibernate for a while.

So, that's where I'm at in my thought process.  Smiles are being shared with my family and friends, love is being squeezed out of my monsters and filling my heart and I'm coping with the anxiety the best way I know how to fight it: prayer and meditation!

 Maegan and some fellow Princesses that were crowned at the Ripple Retreat 2013!

 

Continuing to be His hands and feet for as long as I am granted.  I am loved.  I am His princess.

Keep praying,


Mark 6:31-44

New International Version (NIV)

³¹ Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”
³² So they went away by themselves in a boat to a solitary place. ³³ But many who saw them leaving recognized them and ran on foot from all the towns and got there ahead of them. ³⁴ When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd. So he began teaching them many things.
³⁵ By this time it was late in the day, so his disciples came to him. “This is a remote place,” they said, “and it’s already very late. ³⁶ Send the people away so that they can go to the surrounding countryside and villages and buy themselves something to eat.”
³⁷ But he answered, “You give them something to eat.”
They said to him, “That would take more than half a year’s wages^[a]! Are we to go and spend that much on bread and give it to them to eat?”
³⁸ “How many loaves do you have?” he asked. “Go and see.”
When they found out, they said, “Five—and two fish.”
³⁹ Then Jesus directed them to have all the people sit down in groups on the green grass. ⁴⁰ So they sat down in groups of hundreds and fifties. ⁴¹ Taking the five loaves and the two fish and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the loaves. Then he gave them to his disciples to distribute to the people. He also divided the two fish among them all. ⁴² They all ate and were satisfied, ⁴³ and the disciples picked up twelve basketfuls of broken pieces of bread and fish. ⁴⁴ The number of the men who had eaten was five thousand.

 

A Touchy Subject

Since most of the stuff that is going on in my head isn't my story to share, I'm going to attempt to write about how I feel about a touchy subject.  I'm not sure if I will hit the share button at the end because I am friends with my little cousins and a few kids from church on facebook and I certainly don't want them reading this.  I'm not sure if I'll even hit the publish button for the regular followers because even though I want to be open and honest in this breast cancer journey, I don't want people to feel sorry for me.  When I see people flash the pity look, I want to shake them and tell them not to feel sorry for me, I'm busy living and they should do the same.

But, surgery is quickly approaching.  I've been thinking about this "touchy subject" for a while.  I've been planning my days to make sure I am with the people most important to me.  I've been carving out time to spend with Aaron.  He's the one that's been chosen to have a sick wife and he's the one that will have the most constant reminder when treatment is complete.  I have a few weird friends that want to see and I'm sure my mom and Heid will check it out, but Aaron's the one that will have to see my body post-operation on a daily basis.  A body that will be drastically different in a few short weeks. 

One of my girlfriends is 2 years post surgery and she still hides from her husband when she gets out of the shower.  She's a confident, beautiful woman and she hides.  Her husband helped change the dressings and drain tubes after surgery and still, she hides.

Am I going to hide?  Am I going to be able to mentally recover from the surgery in the bedroom?  Never mind that I will not have any feeling there at all (which is something that doesn't sound like much until you're the one dealing with it), but am I even going want my husband to see me?

Will I even be strong enough to look?  Will I hurry to cover myself from myself?

I've looked at the post-op pictures and they are scary.  I've viewed a ton of final result pictures that look pretty real and I've looked at even more final results pictures that suck.  I have a great plastics doctor, but a big part of the results is out of his hands.  How will my skin stretch? How will it hold up to radiation?  How bad will it scar?

Everyone jokes about how big I plan to get.  I just want them to look and feel like mine!  No bigger or smaller. Not perkier.  Not more symmetrical.   I want moles in the same place that they have always been and nipples that I can feel.

But, I want to live, so that simply isn't a possibility.

A touchy subject-I didn't want bigger boobs this bad.  Victoria Secret was doing just fine by me.


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One-third there

 

 

 

Since I'm one-third of the way done with treatment, I thought I'd take a look back.  I never posted most of the pictures from the photo shoot with Britt and eventually I plan to have my blog bound in a book form for the monsters and want these in it.  These pictures, the feeling of *normal, life BEFORE cancer; it all seems so very far away. I can't wait to start growing hair and use scarfs as accessories rather than head wraps!

We are all used to the new normal though and I'm going to squeeze in some *normal activities during the month off of treatment. I'm only working a part time schedule rather than full time schedule to squeeze in lots of fun.  Thank you to everyone that supported us financially, this is possible even with the anticipated time off after surgery!!  Sleepovers with way too many kids, trips to white star and the zoo, weekend of volleyball and fun with Daddy and friends, a spiritual retreat with some of His beautiful Princesses, a fun celebration party and afternoons on the glider are all planned and in the books.  I even get to have a pedicure again after next week!  YAY for *normal!

Surgery is also planned and in the books for September 11th.  The day after my 32nd birthday.  BUT, for now, we're celebrating the end of chemo. 

I'm also celebrating life AFTER a cancer diagnosis.  A life where you don't sweat the small stuff.  One that I rarely argue with my husband.  (My kids can still drive me CRAY CRAY, but I'm working on having more patience with them;)).  A life that is filled with less complaining and more being thankful. 

Speaking of thankful, I need to commend all of you again.  One of my bosses was asking about the support we have received.  I told him that the cards keep coming, the messages pile up, the treats are still in our fridge, etc.  He can't believe it.  He assumed it would die down after the initial shock of my diagnosis, but it hasn't.  It is truly amazing and I will never be able to thank you all enough for everything. 

One of the unique gifts that continues to give, but I'm pretty sure I haven't given a shout out for: E-ZPass for the turnpike.  After one trip to Cleveland, Shari and Mark Slates dropped off a turnpike pass and have been paying our tolls.  Like my mom says, you all think of EVERYTHING.

Blessed beyond words,

* I've never been NORMAL.  Not even close.   But it would be nice to feel normal by my standards;)

Cancer Sucks #2860321865

Side effects suck.  Getting treatment sucks.  No hair sucks.

But this week what sucks the most is not being able to cuddle my sick baby.  Lilly stayed the night at a friends house Sunday night.  She started feeling ill Monday during my workday.  Since my numbers are borderline, she's on quarantine.  I simply can't afford to catch it right now so my mini-me is suffering and all that she wants is her momma.

Watching her want/need me is terrible.  It tears at every last string that is holding my broken heart together right now.

She was crying out in pain on day two of being sick and I asked her what I could get for her.  She responded with tears in her eyes that all she wanted was for me to cuddle her. Heart breaking.

I asked her if she wanted Mimi instead and she agreed.  My mom came over and babied her, but in the middle of my mom casting a spell to make her feel better, she said it's just not the same as mommy.  And I was forced to sit and watch her need her Mommy.

As most parents understand, your children need you less and less as they age.  It's part of growing up.  Lilly is mature for her age in many ways (she still loves to play and sing and dance, but if she continues to act like her mother, that won't change even with age).  She doesn't demand my attention often.  She takes her cuddle time when she can and rarely complains that my lap is usually occupied by her brother and/or sister.  So when she really needed me and I couldn't hold her, it was awful.

After wanting to hug her up and kiss her sweet cheeks all week, she is finally better today and I can not WAIT to get home and love her up.  I hope someday she will understand how hard it was to see her in pain and not be able to hold her.

Cancer sucks.

Hold your babies tight. Always.

I'm leaving work early to get more cuddles in.  I have a whole week to make up for.

Anxiously waiting to have her in my loving arms,

Estate Planning 101

I work for an estate planning attorney.  I fully understand the importance of estate planning documents.  I do not want burden my loved ones with difficult decisions when avoidable.  I do not want them to wonder what I would have wanted if life sustaining procedures are discussed.  We don't have a ton of money, so the documents aren't really to protect our financial investments, but investments that are so much more important: our children, our integrity, our wishes and desires.

I knew that I should have had these documents typed and signed a long time ago, but when you have to type your name on this type of document, it's a tough pill to swallow.  I actually drafted them a while ago and then put them off to the side.

We're young and healthy.  I'll do it tomorrow.  Aaron knows what I would want and what are the chances of something happening to both of us?

You know, justifying your actions/inactions.  (I'm really good at that.)

Anyways, I'm already struggling to catch my breath these days and these documents simply make everything more real and now.  More, you need to get things in order today, not tomorrow.  The cumulative effect of treatment is wearing my body out.  One of my friends texted me last week something to the tune of: You're making this look too easy.

I suppose this is a common misconception.  Very few people know when I'm truly struggling and it probably goes back to FB vs. Real Life.  FB is a highlight film, full of the really great stuff that happens each day.  Real life is completely different.  Although I am generally a very positive and upbeat person in real life, I don't usually share the really craptastic stories on facebook or my blog until time has healed whatever wounds are associated with the craptastic story.

In real life, the unedited version of being "Strong" and unfazed even during brutal treatment isn't quite as sunshine-y and a lot less rainbow-y than I am able to cover with a pretty smile.

Many times during this treatment I have thought to myself, "Good God, how do people that aren't strong before this survive?"  Or today's thought, "It's a good thing I'm a confident person, because if this were some people I know, they'd just die from embarrassment!"

This morning I woke with a nose bleed, a head ache and all over body aches.  I popped an Aleve and drove into work as if everything was NORMAL.  This afternoon I was working on a project with one of my bosses and he made me giggle and I shot blood all over the papers we were working on.  We were able to laugh about it, but I'm sure he's going to report to my other bosses regarding the incident because it's scary and not normal.  I'm expecting a card from his wife by the weekend because she'll hear the story and want to send a bottle of whiskey, but will settle for a card.

(Yes, I have called my oncologist.  She thinks it's just due to dry air and chemo drying me out, not anything serious like low platelets.  Saline nose spray before bed and check in with them tomorrow.)

So, when you add up the things that I'm struggling with each day, finalizing documents that read: "Death is as much a reality as birth, growth, maturity and old age; it is the only certainty.  I do not fear death as much as I fear the indignity of deterioration, dependence and hopeless pain." it's quite simply just another pill that I don't want to swallow, but will.

Because I'm a planner. Because I AM strong. Because I want the best for my loved ones. Because in the big picture I need to do my best to protect my monsters in life or death.

But it's not easy.  It's not facebook.  It's not the edited version.  It's real life.

Love always,


 

My Grace is Sufficient for You

Every other week I have chemotherapy.  Every other Monday I start mentally and physically preparing for the treatment.  I pretend that I'm a camel and fill up my humps.  I hate water, but I force myself to drink tons and tons so that I'm hydrated and they can get a "clean stick" the first time.  (I'm over having an IV placed right now and when it takes two/three attempts I am not a nice patient!) By Monday I'm also feeling the strongest physically since my previous blasting, so I usually walk or jog. I also start mentally preparing.  I start coaching myself: You can do this.  You are stronger than cancer.  You have so much to live for. You have to give it your all.  Look at that precious little monster sleeping in your arms, she needs you.  Or who will tell Lilly how to stop the nightmares?  Or baby Keegan because he's such a flippin' cry baby?

Every other week I think about everything I'm fighting for so that I can make myself get in the car and drive to Cleveland for poison.  By the time they place my IV, I'm ready to get the show on the road.  One step closer to the end of treatment.  I thought to myself, "One more after today!"

And then the doctor walked in and told me that I was not able to have chemo because my numbers were too low.

Unfortunately, I know too much about cancer and numbers and risks and when she said I was neutropenic, I knew that I wasn't going to have treatment.  Even if I begged and pleaded.  Even if I cried...usually when I cry, I get my way. I have a really ugly cry face and it works on most people.  But not on doctors that are trying to save your life.

DEVASTATED. PISSED. CRUSHED. I HATE THIS! I WANT HAIR.  I WANT TO WORKOUT. I JUST WANT TO FEEL NORMAL.  WHY!?!?!?!?

"Just try to enjoy this week while you feel well!"  Ummm, eff off.  I just want to be done!

"We're in this to cure you, we don't want to risk putting you in the hospital." Ummm, eff off.  I've been around 90 little kids, wiping their nose for the last three days, I'm not sick.  Give me the poison.

Yet, I was able to compose myself. I thanked my wonderful oncologist and gave her a half-hearted smile when I told her I'd see her next week.

But I was in shut down mode when we left the clinic.  I shut myself in my room Wednesday night and read an entire book on Thursday.  I did only the things that needed to be done and not a single task more. Complete Disconnect.  My monsters must have picked up on my mood because bedtime Thursday night was rough; full of questions about cancer, treatment, treatable vs. non treatable diseases...death.  I went to bed knowing that I wasted the day, nearly drowning in my self pity and scaring my little ones in the process as they witnessed the shut down.

Friday morning I woke up and looked at the time on my phone.  It was 7am.  I cried knowing that Brenda was praying for me right that very moment.  She prays for me every. single. morning at 7.  Friday morning I joined her in prayer. 

I didn't pray for my numbers to go up.  I didn't pray for the cure to cancer.  Instead, I prayed for forgiveness.  Forgiveness for wasting an entire day.  A day that I could have spent loving; enjoying all of my blessings.

Right then, I decided to start climbing again and thought of these lyrics by Laura Story:

"My child, I love you.
And as long as you're seeking My face,
You'll walk in the power of My daily sufficient grace"

Last night when I went slogging, I listened to the song and decided I should probably share my blessings.  I'll be singing "Grace" by Laura Story during church August 4th at 10:30am, Woodville United Methodist Church.

2 Corinthians 12:9

New International Version (NIV)

⁹ But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

Seeking His face,