One of the local schools has a sign on the gate that says “NO PETS ALLOWED ON SCHOOL GROUNDS.” The sign goes on to specify that the pets not allowed on school grounds are cats, dogs, and pot bellied pigs. Does that mean ferrets are allowed?
I always wonder about signs like this, with something oddly specific included in the rules. I wonder if there was at one time a pot bellied pig problem. I’d love to hear that story.
Tell me about your week and show me some pictures.
Type of Cancer: Breast cancer – poorly differentiated invasive ductile
carcinoma. stage I category III
Stage at Diagnosis: Stage 1
Treatment Plan: Bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction, Chemo 20
weeks followed by 42 add’l weeks with herceptin every 3 weeks
How did you tell your kids about the cancer diagnosis?
Explained that we have millions of cells in our bodies and that sometimes some of them go bad. When they stick together they create a tumor. That tumor is cancer. Docs don’t know how we get cancer but they know how to get rid of it. Told them it’s no one’s fault and that it wasn’t contagious. Asked them what questions they had, and we’ve been talking regularly (not scheduled).
How did your kids respond?
11 year old twins. Son had several spot on questions (How do you know it’s even there?) and my daughter shut down. Couldn’t stop crying but wouldn’t talk. I told her that when she wanted to ask anything that I’d answer as best as I could. I told her I loved her. By the end of the day she was her normal self.
What are some things you did that worked really well for your family with regards to dealing with the cancer, and treatment, while raising children?
I’m divorced but asked my ex to be there to tell the kids. That was a big support mechanism in the sense of “we’re fighting this as a family.” Humor works really well with my kids. It opens them up. Eg, at dinner, daughter asks, “Dad, can I have another chicken breast?” shortly after my surgery. Then she turned to me and said, “Sorry, mom.” And I said, “That’s ok. I’ll have two!” Laughter all around.
Do you have concerns about the long term impact of your cancer on your children?
I do. This is a lot for them to withstand, but if I make it through, which I fully intend, they will have matured in a hard but positive way.
What advice would you give to other parents who are diagnosed with cancer?
Be as straight as you can to you kids in the conversation. Tell them what you know them capable of handling. Line up support and tell them you all have backup whenever you need it. Make sure their lives go on as normally as possible through treatment. Don’t let them skip ballet or a music lesson. And tell them as much as they can stand to hear it that you love them.
What concerns or fears troubled you the most?
How my kids would react. And chemo without a partner to help me, and the need to protect my kids from the hard stuff.
How did you deal with those fears?
I continue to see a therapist weekly. Hugely helpful.
Have those fears and concerns changed over time?
Still working on it
What was your darkest moment?
Haven’t had it yet. If I did, it must not have been that bad.
Did you have an online resource that helped you through this experience?
There have been times, oh so many times, when the thought of compiling a list of things for which to be grateful was a little more than I could bear. Those are moments when gratitude is difficult.
Life can be difficult. Excruciating, even.
Sometimes, getting through one hour after another, means holding your breath till you remember that you are supposed to inhale and exhale. Then, those repeated steps become your occupation until you think of something else to get you through the next block of time. I’ll just hold on till the end of this show, or till Mom gets here, or till Aaron gets home, or till the baby wakes up. Then you make another deal to get through the next time span.
What is your touchpoint?
I remember those days during chemotherapy, when my stomach churned and my head spun, but the worst part was the unbelievable pain from the bone marrow stimulating shots that I had to give myself the day after each chemo. My shins ached and burned; they felt like the bone would split open, and no pain reliever would touch it.
My husband would place one of his palms on each shin and somehow found just the right amount of pressure. The combination of the heat of his hand and the pressure lifted the pain just enough. The first time he did that, I let out a sob. He stopped and quickly pulled his hands away, afraid that he had hurt me. I struggled to find the words to tell him that the sob was relief. Please, please, put your hands back.
As long as he held his hands there, the pain was held at bay, but it returned when he pulled them away. So we sat like that; his hands on my shins, my hands holding them there. Sometimes we talked, and sometimes we just sat there holding each other. These were the moments I could let my guard down.
Those hands. I am so grateful for my husband’s hands.
Start with just one thing
Even in those worst moments, you can look around and find that one thing that is getting you through to the next moment. What is your touchstone right now? Find something, anything, that you can focus on, that you can appreciate. Is it the chair you’re sitting in? Your favorite pillow? The grain pattern running through your wood floor? A quiet moment? A distraction? A cup of coffee?
Now, really appreciate it.
Focus on it.
Embrace it.
Allow yourself to lean on it.
Vulnerability isn’t easy
I felt so guilty about not having the strength to take care of my baby, unassisted. I’d just had a mastectomy and was going through chemotherapy, and later, radiation, yet I managed to heap guilt on myself for being an inadequate mother to my 1-year-old daughter.
It took me a while to see how blessed I was to have my mother and my friends there to help me care for my daughter. I could not bring myself to ask for help, but they showed up anyway. They sat with me and the baby, keeping us both company, just there to help with the heavy lifting, especially in those days when I was not even allowed to pick her up.
My baby was happy, and healthy, and well cared for, whether it was me lifting her out of the crib, or one of my helpers. I felt relief immediately, but it took a bit to fully embrace the feelings of gratitude. It took an attitude shift to appreciate the fact accepting that help was not a signal that I was failing as a mother, but just the opposite. I was doing what my child needed most for her own safety. With my helpers there, I was free to nap as needed and regain my strength, so I could stay awake to watch her another day.
I will forever be grateful to those amazing women who not only showed up without being asked, but gracefully and tactfully allowed me to work through my depression and feelings of guilt without taking it personally.
Sometimes gratitude requires an attitude shift
That change from thinking I am supposed to be super-mom, to acknowledging that I’m only human was difficult.
I had to redefine for myself what it meant to be a mom. I’ve always been a proponent of the idea that it takes a village to raise a child, and I had to accept my own hypocrisy, and then allow my village to participate in raising my child.
Ultimately, I also had a learn to have a little compassion for myself. By asking what I would want my daughter to do in this situation, the answer became easy. It was easier to be compassionate with myself, after experiencing a little compassion for my daughter in a hypothetically similar situation.
The process of shifting my attitude towards gratitude allowed me to have a little more compassion for myself and ultimately, it made me a better mother, because I was able to fully embrace putting my daughter’s well-being ahead of any feelings of guilt.
I am so thankful that I was challenged in that way, because I am a better mom now as a result, and I am much more likely to remember that I need to take care of my own needs in order to have the strength to take care my daughter’s needs.
I also understand, even more as she gets older, that I don’t need to be, nor should I be, her everything.
Sometimes, gratitude is difficult because it means accepting that we have weaknesses.
Sometimes, gratitude is difficult simply because we lack the creativity, or the will, to think up a list.
It’s easier to hold on to what’s wrong, because there’s more energy in that.
There are times, especially when I’m really enjoying wallowing in a good funk, that I don’t want to do the whole gratitude thing because I know it will mess up my funk, and I’m quite comfortable there.
The power of repetition
This emotional morass we experience through life doesn’t always adhere to logic.
It does, however, respond to repetition.
Thought patterns become habitual.
Emotional patterns become habitual.
So, whether the habit is wallowing in a funk or in gratitude, that becomes the default. But, that default is pretty easy to change, in either direction.
Gratitude Journal
I’ve maintained a gratitude journal for a little while now. It’s nothing complicated, I just try to think of 5 specific and timely things for which I am grateful and write them down at the end of the day. It takes less than 5 minutes.
One day, a particularly bad day, I opened my journal with the intent of unloading everything that was wrong with the world. But while I was thinking through my plans of everything I was going to whine about, my hand, completely out of habit, wrote the word “Gratitude” at the top of the page. So, I decided to go ahead and do the gratitude list first, and whine later. By the time I finished the short list of five items, my mood had completely changed and I lost the desire to whine.
It’s not always that simple and easy and straightforward, but it usually is.
Over time, I have come to realize that gratitude is not just a means of cheering myself up, or engaging in the socially acceptable practice of being thankful.
Gratitude is a coping mechanism, and on those bad days, it’s one of the things that helps me get from one time span to the next.
I’ll admit to being annoyed by the 20-mile per hour speed limit in school zones… in the past. Funny how things change now that I have a 5-year-old walking to school every day. And now, every day, I give those fast drivers a mama bear glare.
The neighborhood in which we now live has well marked school zone signs, but there are a few school zones around Seattle that I suspect have become quite the source of income for city hall. School zone signs that are hidden behind trees or tucked in around a corner, placed where a driver wouldn’t notice if they were watching the road – those are a problem. Those not only put the driver at risk of being ticketed, they put our children at risk, too.
Last year, I contacted the city about one hidden sign, and since the sign is now much more easily seen, I suspect the overgrown bushes and trees were trimmed back.
If you see signs that are poorly placed, or where shrubbery has obscured the sign, please contact your city and ask to have it fixed.
And please, respect the reduced speed limit in school zones. A child’s life is worth so much more than the couple extra seconds it takes to get through that part of the road.
Type of Cancer: Breast cancer – DCIS with microinvasion
Stage at Diagnosis: Stage 1
Treatment Plan: Bilateral mastectomy
Current Status: cancer-free (I pray)!
How did you tell your kids about the cancer diagnosis?
Shared very limited details but just told them that mommy would have a surgery to get rid of some disease growing inside my body. My baby was only 3 months old.
How did your kids respond?
They didn’t seem to care but were VERY good at giving gentle hugs after surgery.
What are some things you did that worked really well for your family with regards to dealing with the cancer, and treatment, while raising children?
Lots of outside support.
Is there anything you wish you’d done differently?
Nope
How did the impact of cancer change as time passed, and your children grew? Did it change?
they don’t really know much still.
Do you have concerns about the long term impact of your cancer on your children?
Yes. I’m most concerned for my daughter and how she’ll associate her own body when looking at mine. She’ll understand when she’s older
What advice would you give to other moms who are diagnosed with cancer?
Take time, breathe, and find ways to smile and laugh.
What concerns or fears troubled you the most?
recurrence
How did you deal with those fears?
Deal every day. It’s a very scary world.
Have those fears and concerns changed over time?
No
What was your darkest moment?
No super dark moments per se.
What was your best moment?
Post surgery to find out that no nodes were involved.
Did you decide to add more children to your family after your diagnosis? How did cancer figure into your decision?
No more children were planned but had nothing to do with cancer. We wanted 3 and we have them. I’m grateful.
What did you do to take care of you? How did you splurge on yourself?
I’m not sure I have.
Were you able to get help from friends and family members while you were going through treatment?
Yes. A lot. I am surrounded by amazing people.
Was it difficult to ask for help? Do you have any suggestions around the topic of asking for help?
People will offer. When they do, say yes. And be sure to pay it forward.
Did you have an online resource that helped you through this experience?
YSC! While I’m not very active in the group, reading the site and the FB page is a huge, huge help.
Did cancer/treatment impact your relationship with your spouse/partner?
Not in a huge way.
Do you have any relationship advice for young moms dealing with cancer?
Laugh. Remember to connect with each other. Laugh some more.
What is something you wish your friends and family members understood about your cancer and its impact on your life? What would you tell the friends and family members of other mom’s diagnosed with cancer? What would you want them to know about what she’s about to go through, and how best they can support her?
Recurrence is a real fear and something that comes up a lot. Help to keep me smiling and laughing and I’ll do the same for you!
Were there any cancer-related activities or events in which you participated that you think were especially helpful to you or members of your family?
No.. not really. I do Race for the Cure each year. It’s taken on a new meaning.
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