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,






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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

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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;))

Disease free, but not free of disease...

When I started this blog, it was my release.  My own space to bitch and complain if that's what I wanted to do. Now that it has followers, I rarely use it as a release these days. 

I hope this doesn't turn into a complaining post, but I want to be honest as I continue on this survivor journey. I want to talk about how I feel like I'm cancer free, but I'm not free of cancer.

FATIGUE.  So you hear about fatigue as a side effect, but you think to yourself, yeah, I've been tired before too. FOR ME (maybe some people actually feel fatigue without a disease) I had never experienced fatigue.  Tired? Yes.  Multiple sleepless nights with children, caregiver to a cancer patient, up too late with too many drinks?  You bet ya.  Fatigue is a completely different ball game.

I can handle the joint pain.  It's more annoying than painful. A little reminder when I stand up too fast that my body went through hell this year and fought cancer.  Pain, I can handle.  Shooting, phantom pains in my armpits where the nerves are trying to send signals to the boobs, but my foobs don't have nerve endings to shoot to-yeah, I can handle those, too. The constant dull headache I have had since I started this maintenance drug, I'm sure I'll get used to that, too. Even the night sweats and hot flashes are manageable.

BUT THIS FATIGUE. Well plainly stated, it sucks. I just want to have energy again and not feel tired all of the time.  SO, even though it is the VERY.LAST.THING that I want to do tonight, I'm going to start working out with the hopes that I can combat this fatigue with endorphins.  I'm going to start slow with a yoga video and some lifting tonight.

Hopefully in a week/two I can report that I feel a little more free of disease!  For those of you that will worry that I'm still tired.  My oncologist and radiologist said that it is TOTALLY normal to suffer from fatigue for a year.  It is not uncommon to battle fatigue FoReVeR after cancer treatment.

Cancer Sucks, Post 123205982309670948365-09831249873209874

Disease free, but not free of disease.

Still energy enough for lots of love,

Put your Faith in Big Hands

 For the nonfacebook crew: Ovaries and stomach fluid tested was clear and cancer free! Strict medical instructions: Get busy living!! Thank you all from the very bottom of my heart for all the love and prayers this year.

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One of the reasons that I LOVE my oncologist is because over and over and over again she tells me: "We are in this to cure you!"  Her hands are not that big, but the hands of her Creator are.

I feel like He put her in my journey because He knew that I needed her.  See, when Mary Jo pulled some strings to get us in with a world renowned surgeon, we really had no plans of making the Clinic the place for all of my treatment.  I agreed (reluctantly and with my normal itchy-bay attitude) to meet with a specialist in each area that I would need treatment.  I would listen to their opinion, but I had every intention of coming back to Toledo and having treatment at UTMC.

But then we met Holly and it was love at first sight. When I told her that I was going to check my options back home and get back to her, she offered to assist in any way she could if we decided on a different oncologist.  When I told her we decided that she was worth the drive, she hugged me and told me she will fight right alongside me every step of the way.  When I wasn't 100% sold on the surgeon or his recommended course of action, my oncologist said to keep researching and find the one that I liked best.

When I had the double mastectomy she stalked my charts waiting for the reports.  She was prepared for each of my questions. (Once again, for anyone that is or may be diagnosed, I can't stress enough how important it is to advocate for yourself.  Understand how things work and ask questions! They will work with you to find the best plan of action if you communicate with them.  If I would have just went with the flow, my plan would have been wait a few weeks/month so that they could schedule a surgeon and plastics team.  Most likely they would have only chopped off one boob immediately and I would have had to have the other chopped off later. My genetics testing wouldn't have been confirmed and the first surgeon did not want to unnecessarily remove a healthy boobie.  Because I was not confident with the surgeon and I knew immediately that I want BOTH boobies chopped off, I was firm and decisive when I told them what I wanted.  We were able to come up with a plan that everyone was comfortable with.  Chemo first, confirm genetic results, surgery and then radiation. Ok, done ranting about patient advocating now;))

After my ovary removal surgery, she couldn't wait to tell me the good pathology report.  She provided information on the new drug that I started and will continue to take for at least five years.  Studies are in progress that will most likely prove the benefit of taking them for ten plus years.  I asked her about side effects and how to manage them.  She patiently answered, but more importantly reassured me that she was not abandoning me and I should call anytime that I have questions.  Rarely do admit that I need support from others, but I needed her during this journey.   It was like God sent her to me at the moment I was ready to break apart into a million pieces and she hugged them back together again.

This is totally not where I was planning to go with this post.  Back to the subject: Put you Faith in Big Hands.

As you can tell from my rambling, from the very beginning, I haven't been following MY plan.  I've been following HIS.  I've been listening with my heart.  Absorbing the thousands and thousands of prayers that have been shouted in my name. Putting all of my faith in big hands.  The only hands big enough to hold me when I'm so fragile.  His hands and heart.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you for everything.  For the prayers, cards, goodies, cleaning, donations, shoveling, tea parties, jewelry, tshirts, scarves, wishing well, beer, gift cards, turnpike pass, just everything.  I can never repay all of you for the endless love and support.

Even though I can never repay all of you personally, I can tell you that I'll give back what I can.  My love, prayers, and personal experience is where I'm starting.  I can tell you that my first attempt, the teeny tiny start to giving back...it felt amazing.  BOTH of my favorite nurses came to visit and said that they have never been broken up with before.  Hugs and smiles and "I can't wait to hear about the kids in three months!"   When I told Holly about the blanket and how I wanted her to pick the next young mother that lands in her office, she agreed.  She said that every day she sits down and tells AT LEAST one woman EVERY DAY that they have breast cancer. On her two days a week at the Breast Care Clinic that number increases significantly.  She will have no problem picking the right person, I'm sure.  She remembers our first appointment vividly (Heidi was there) so I'm guessing she will pick the next patient that is loud and obnoxious;)

 Doctors and nurses are such a HUGE part of your life during treatment.  I saw them more than most of my friends and family.  I know where they vacationed and which ones wife has fake boobs done by my plastic surgeon and which ones ride a motorcycle...I will miss them and they are appreciated.

 You're terrified.  Who beats this!? What should I expect? 

This is the gift I left for the next survivor. My oncologist will give it to her when she is thinking these emotions plus a million trillion more.  Complete with blog address and which date/title to start with.

I really never stopped living, but I don't plan to stop now, so I'll follow this medical order with pride.

Put your faith in big hands,