Days after my diagnosis, before I learned to reign in my imagination and to view Dr.Google for what [...]]]> In the cold, dark, fear of 3 a.m., when the cancer patient is most alone, I found ToddlerPlanet, a blog written by cancer fighting princess warrior, awesome mommy, and astrophysicist, Susan Niebur (also known as @whymommy).

Days after my diagnosis, before I learned to reign in my imagination and to view Dr.Google for what it is, I found Susan’s blog. I read for hours: post after post, page after page. It seemed she was speaking directly to me, addressing my personal concerns about life, death, love, cancer, and most important to me at that moment, the well being of my child.  No sensationalism, just an honest look at life and parenting as impacted by cancer.

It would be difficult and frustrating, and at times, extremely painful, she seemed to say, but my days would still be full of love and joy, and I can still be an awesome mom, and my child can still be happy. I read those pages through tears; I was so relieved and hopeful. In the two years since then, we formed an internet friendship, tweeting and commenting on each other’s blog posts. The internet has made possible friendships between people who have never met.

Who will never meet.

Today I read her blog again through tears. Susan passed away today. She touched so many lives, her husband and little boys, her friends and family, the science community, the blogging community, the cancer and health advocacy community… and me, a girl at a computer Seattle, whose life was blessed by knowing her, even though we never met.

Is it just me, or does the moon seem to be a bit bigger and brighter tonight? I’m going to think of it as Susan’s moon.

Thank you, Susan, for the love and hope and strength you shared with all of us. Godspeed.

I didn’t mind the snowstorm much at all. It was a minor inconvenience, combined with a bevy of benefits. My husband at home for a few extra days. Family play time in the snow. A little girl’s first snowman. Soup with grilled sandwiches. Hot chocolate (Gem would be sure to verify that her’s [...]]]>

I didn’t mind the snowstorm much at all. It was a minor inconvenience, combined with a bevy of benefits. My husband at home for a few extra days. Family play time in the snow. A little girl’s first snowman. Soup with grilled sandwiches. Hot chocolate (Gem would be sure to verify that her’s was “warm”). Days packed with guilt-free snuggle time and togetherness.

Until my internet went out. Then it got personal.

Oddly, up until I noticed the outtage, I’d spent little time online. But in the hours, minutes, and seconds that have creeped by since that devastating discovery, I’ve thought of little else. We are all safe and well. We have electricity, heat, water, stockpiles of food, and an ever-deepening wonderland of snow and ice outside. It doesn’t matter.

I’m not connected.

I cannot share my every passing thought on facebook. I can’t pin pictures of food I will never cook, and clothes I will never wear. And since we dropped cable in favor of using the internet for tv, we might even have to break out the boxes of dvds that have been gathering dust in the closet. Even my phone is on Roam.

I’m quite certain I’ll weather this trauma just fine, and I’ll try not to spend my time counting the moments till I can post this message. In the meantime, I hope you are all safe and sound, warm and dry, that your problems are more frivolous than substantial, and that the storm leaves your homes and loved ones unscathed.

Her favorite toys laid out on a piece of pretty wrapping paper

Carefully wrapped

and topped with a pretty bow…

Berry Christmas, Mommy!

presented with both hands and a proud, beaming smile

It’s not just her toys. She’s used this one piece [...]]]> She still has the Christmas spirit.

Her favorite toys laid out on a piece of pretty wrapping paper

Carefully wrapped

and topped with a pretty bow…

Berry Christmas, Mommy!

presented with both hands and a proud, beaming smile

It’s not just her toys. She’s used this one piece of paper to gift me with a book, a deck of cards, a shoe, my cell phone, the remote, and a dirty fork. But she has discovered the joy of giving.

The other day, she started our day at 6 am, by saying “adventure makes me happy, and I have my shoes on.”

I’ve always known she was adaptable, and maybe even adventurous, and [...]]]> Every once in a while, my daughter says something that makes me look at her in a whole new light.

The other day, she started our day at 6 am, by saying “adventure makes me happy, and I have my shoes on.”

I’ve always known she was adaptable, and maybe even adventurous, and she’s happily rolled with the punches of every upheaval we’ve thrown at her, family illness, new home, road trip, frequent changes in routines…

But this time I saw another dimension. Not only is she adventurous, she’s a go-getter, she doesn’t wait for adventure. She’s got her shoes on, and she finds adventure everywhere we go.

The park is full of adventure, leaves, things to climb on, trails, squirrels to chase, and even in winter we can usually find a flower. The grocery story is full of colors, and signs with letters and numbers, balloons, magazines, apples, brownies, and the greeting card aisle can entertain us for hours.

Even the commute on those days we drive Aaron in to work is full of adventure, cars, trucks, signs, buildings, sometimes we can see an airplane take off or land as we drive by Boeing, and some of the trucks have letters and pictures on them!!!!

Life is just so full of adventure.  It’s wonderful to go somewhere new, but if you’re willing, you might even find a little adventure in your own back yard.

I saw a homeless woman with brown teeth grinning at my little girl.

*Stranger Danger* [Insert helicopter-mom posture here]

Seriously, what was I afraid of?  Their exchange was completely innocent, and grounded in sharing joy. There [...]]]> She saw a woman with kind eyes and a big smile who was happy to play peek-a-boo with her.

I saw a homeless woman with brown teeth grinning at my little girl.

*Stranger Danger* [Insert helicopter-mom posture here]

Seriously, what was I afraid of?  Their exchange was completely innocent, and grounded in sharing joy. There was a full table width between them. Why the fear? Why did all my red flags go up? Am I really that shallow?

When we talk about listening to our gut, how do we know the difference between intuition and prejudice? Bigotry can feel a lot like instinct.

I consider her again as my daughter continues to play peek-a-boo and talk to her. She’s warming her hands around a cup of tea in a Pioneer Square coffee shop. Her clothes were tattered, but appeared clean. The coat had seen better days, as had her shoes. The clothes in the bags around her feet were faded, but neatly folded…

Oh, good grief. Really, Judy? Is that the best you can do?

I had to look back a couple times before I saw not what, but whom my daughter saw: A woman with kind eyes and a big smile who was happy to play peek-a-boo with my little girl.

I’ve got a lot of learning to do.

You [...]]]> The weather turned since the last time I wrote one of these letters to you. In just a couple months we went from temperatures in the 80s to frosty mornings and piles of multicolored leaves on the ground. You’ve changed so much, grown up so much, in that little bit of time.

You notice the change in the trees. You notice the weather. You notice so many things that just a couple months ago would have slipped right past you. I have to be a little more careful now. And watch my tongue. Not that I am the kind of person who would thoughtlessly say things in your presence that I wouldn’t want you to repeat. ahem.

The past few months have been pretty busy. Especially October. I’ve taken to calling it Pinktober, because breast cancer awareness month takes over everything, no matter what else we’ve got going on.

As if I wasn’t already all too aware of breast cancer.

I have a feeling that this is going to be a part of a new pattern in our lives, that we will need to learn to just brace ourselves for Pinktober every year. We’ll learn to let the wave of pink wash over us without dredging up too much trauma, while embracing the opportunities that come in at the same time. We need to remember that Pinktober is a time of reunion with those who have become close friends in this breast cancer battle, it’s also a time to celebrate life, and raise some money to help all those who will be diagnosed in the year ahead.

When I see myself in your mannerisms, the things you say, the way you turn a phrase, it reminds me that one of my most important tasks as your mother is to be a role model. And that responsibility has become a critical part of my decision making process.

Some people pay lipservice to the old WWJD: What Would Jesus Do? I take a different approach. When faced with a difficult decision, I ask WWIWGTD: What Would I Want Gem To Do? But I’m asking that question for real. I consider this question in all different aspects of my life from brushing my teeth even if I’m staying in bed all day, to how I interact with friends and strangers, to how I research and take a position on an issue, to how I react when people are cruel to me.

I don’t want to give the impression that I’m letting you make my decisions.  I need to make choices that are healthy for me, and I want you to learn to make decisions that are healthy for you.

The net result of all this is that I am living my life more mindfully because of you. I’m making more thoughtful decisions. I’m taking better care of my body. I now respond differently when people try to walk all over me, and while some may not like that change, I know it’s a change that needed to be made.

You inspire me to be a better person.

Thank you

I love you so much

Mommy

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, this [...]]]> I like to joke that no one really knows what I look like without a camera in front of my face. I’m THAT girl at parties: the one who hides behind the camera, capturing moments more than participating. The one who rarely actually appears in photographs…

When I was first diagnosed with cancer, this really bothered me. For the first time ever, it was REALLY important to me that I have photos of myself, and photos of myself with my husband and daughter. I wanted my family to have them – not just in case I died, but also to mark who I am right now, because I’m evolving. My looks are changing daily as my hair grows back. My outlook is changing daily as well; each new day brings a new challenge, and something else at which to marvel.

I’m trying to teach myself photography, and in that process, I spend a lot of time studying the work of some of my favorite photographers. Each has their own unique and identifiable style. What I’m learning is that a picture doesn’t just tell you about the subject matter in the frame, it tells you a whole lot about the photographer. You can see moods, attitude, approach… you can see respect, affection, and love.

That realization eased my mind a bit about my absence from the photographs. I understand now, that I am in all those photographs that I have taken. The photograph is a record of the world as I see it. It’s an opportunity to look at life through my eyes, to see what I see. My hope is that someday in the future – when my daughter is 13/16/18/whatever, and mad at me because I wouldn’t let her stay up late/take the car/have my credit card/whatever – that she will, every once in a while, glance at one of the millions of photos I’ve taken of her, and see that the person behind the camera loves her with everything she has to give.

I can see my attitudes in the photos I’ve taken. I can see the difference between the photos taken to simply to document a place, thing, or an occasion, and those that seek out the magic of the moment. Mood, attitude, and approach do make a difference.

Long before I had a real DSLR camera, I had my eye on a camera bag.  Not just any camera bag, a beautiful camera bag from Epiphanie Bags.  After I was finally able to get my good camera this summer (with some help from my mom – THANKS MOM!), I bookmarked my dream bag, and revisited regularly. But purchasing the bag was out of the question. The price was prohibitive. Not to long ago, I even posted the link on facebook with the words, “sigh… someday.”

A couple weeks later that bag appeared at my door. But here’s the thing: I didn’t order it.  I don’t know who sent it to me.  It was delivered by the UPS guy with no note attached. I laughed, I cried, I jumped up and down and squealed, even scaring my baby a bit till I convinced her it was a happy dance. I am completely in awe of this bag, and the kind, anonymous, generosity that caused it to become mine.

I tear up every time I look at the bag, I also stand a little taller with that beautiful braided strap over my shoulder. That kindness now travels with me everywhere. Each time I reach for my camera, I am reminded of this generosity, and as I look through my lens at the world, I do so with a sense of gratitude and magic, and I hope that will show in my photographs.

Thank you my friend, whoever you are. You have given me so much more than a gorgeous bag to cradle my camera. Bless you.

I am so ready to get on with my life, but first I want to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who helped get me through the past 16 months since my [...]]]> If you haven’t already heard, we have some pretty awesome news: I just completed my treatment for breast cancer!

I am so ready to get on with my life, but first I want to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who helped get me through the past 16 months since my diagnosis.

1. Gem

Look at that face. She is such a powerful motivator. And sweet, too.

No matter how rough things got, she was enough to get me out of bed – Even if that meant just going to the living room, and cuddling up with her on the floor.

It’s amazing how much she has grown up through this ordeal. Here she is just a week before I was diagnosed:

2. My Husband, Aaron

Aaron is my biggest cheerleader, the one who kept telling me that I CAN do this. He was the one who held me when I cried, and told me he would still love me no matter what, and made me feel sexy even missing a boob.

He wouldn’t let me get depressed, and he fills my life with music.

3. Mom

My mom was the one I could count on to drop everything, and come running at a moment’s notice

4. Friends who formed a little army of volunteers

Kristen, Mary Jane, Diane, Sommer, Carrie, Candice, Tim, Mel, Sharon, and Perry – I can’t begin to describe how much you helped me. From bringing meals, to babysitting Gem, to washing dishes, to just sitting with me or taking me outside for a walk, you really helped to carry me through.

5. The young women of the Young Survival Coalition

It’s one thing to experience sympathy and empathy, but nothing helps like meeting others who understand because they’ve been there. I have written about the Young Survival Coalition before, and I’m sure I will do so again and again and again going forward. These girls are my confidants, my hand-holders, my glass of wine with a side of giggles, and my sneaking out from a vegetarian retreat to bring back a side of bacon.

5. Debbie Cantwell and The Pink Daisy Project

A breast cancer survivor herself, Debbie started The Pink Daisy Project to help other young women deal with the overwhelming facts of everyday life that pile up while battling this disease. She came to my rescue by sending grocery cards so I could buy diapers, and hired a cleaning crew when I was too sick to deal with housekeeping. Debbie is truly a hero. Stay tuned: I’ll have more to say about Debbie in future posts.

6. Delia

Dee is one of my oldest friends, and she’s been there for me through thick and thin. When I was diagnosed, she flew out to be here with me during my mastectomy. She helped whip my house into shape while I was recovering, and watched the baby, and helped in too many ways to list in one post. She’s another one of those people that I can count on no matter what.

7. Old and New Friends; Some I’ve Never Met

Social media is an amazing phenomenon, and it has had a profound effect on my life. It’s brought me back into contact with old friends I haven’t seen in more than two decades, and it has introduced me to new friends, some I speak with every day, but have yet to meet face to face.  These friends have followed me through the ups and downs, provided encouragement, hope, sometimes a little gift or cash, an ear, a shoulder – and often at 3 in the morning, when normal people aren’t available.

…

So now I’m done with treatment. I’m still contending with some of the side effects. I have some neuropathy, the fatigue is still slowing me down, and I’m typing with one hand because my arm is bound up to treat the lymphedema. But these are little, non-life-threatening issues, and we can deal with that.

Right now, my heart is just full of gratitude.

Now, we are looking forward. We are looking forward to Aaron getting a job. We are looking forward to me finishing my degree. We are looking forward to Gem being potty trained, and learning to read, and getting ready for pre-school. We are looking forward to a long, happy, and healthy life together.

Love to you all.

People who have known me for a long time may not realize how shy I can be. But the truth is, especially in cocktail hour, conference-type settings, I’m awkward silence girl.  These events stir up all kinds of [...]]]> Yes, I’m the shy girl. You, in the back, that just snorted – I heard that.

People who have known me for a long time may not realize how shy I can be. But the truth is, especially in cocktail hour, conference-type settings, I’m awkward silence girl.  These events stir up all kinds of anxieties in me. I sit there and rack my brain trying to think of something to say – and the harder I think, the longer and more awkward the silence gets, which makes it even harder to think of something to say. It’s a deep, and endless spiral.  And that’s if I manage NOT to blurt out something stupid, or nonsensical, or inappropriate, or offensive.

Conversing is so different from writing. There’s no opportunity to edit while you are speaking. Time delays are built in to written conversations, and expected, even when chatting or tweeting. But when you’re in a live, real world conversation, all bets are off. You’re out there, on your own, flying without a net.

Wine helps. A little.

More wine helps a little more.

Even more wine helps me nap right where I’m standing.

Unfortunately, most conferences start before the cocktail hour. But seriously, I do need to learn how to participate in a conversation without that kind of lubricant.

How do you do it?  How do you keep a conversation going? Even if it’s with someone you’ve been dying to meet for years. Especially if it’s with someone you’ve been dying to meet for years.

How do you bridge the gap between standing alone in the center of a packed room, and walking up to someone, or a group of someones, and saying “hi” – and then what do you say next?

My pulse is racing while I write this. It’s a terrifying prospect for me.

I spent the day Saturday at Bloggy Boot Camp Seattle, which was, in a word, Awesome. But it was also, among other things, a networking event: talking required. I learned a lot – but of course, one of the biggest benefits of such an event is the opportunity to meet other bloggers.  That meant sticking my hand out, and walking up to someone to introduce myself. And I did it! Most of the time without tripping over my own feet, or getting too terribly tongue tied.

There were still those moments where I stood in the middle of the room and surveyed groupings of people deep in conversation. What were they talking about? Could I easily join this conversation? Was anyone else also looking for someone to talk to? Or were they, like me, pretending to look busy so they didn’t look pathetic in the middle of the room silently trying to figure out who to talk to and how to start a conversation?

One of the brilliant bits of planning on the parts of the amazing ladies who organized this conference, was assigned seating that changed with each presentation.  This meant that every couple hours or so, I was at a different table with a different group of bloggers, and it made it so much easier to make introductions, start conversations, and meet a larger number of people.

And the people who attended this event were just wonderful. From the moment I showed up to check in, an hour late (another story for another time), I was overwhelmed by just how amazing and, more importantly for me, approachable, everyone was. Superstar-blogger MamaKat has been one of my blogging heroes for years, and she got up and gave me a giant hug when we finally met at the conference. JennyOnTheSpot sat down next to me at lunch, and actually got me to talk a bit about myself to the table.

So many amazing people, and I’m still a little start struck and in awe of the entire event.

I learned a lot, too.  Not that I have actually applied anything I learned yet. For instance, Danae Handy and MamaKat led an amazing breakout session on writing. They didn’t just tell us to apply the narrative arc to everything we write; they actually showed us how to apply it to a blog post. For instance, this infernal post that you have been reading forever because it just wont end (thank you for sticking with me, by the way) would fit beautifully into a hero’s journey format.

I would be the hero (I like the sound of that), and my quest would be to summon the courage to make more connections (and maybe even friends) at a networking event, the antagonist would be my shyness and insecurities, my allies would be the other amazing people at the blog conference and the speakers who all seemed to do a great job of building my confidence as well.

I would build the story in ever increasing waves of tension as you follow along through my attempts to initiate and navigate through conversations, and triumph with me as I leave the conference with a head full of great ideas, a belly full of wonderful wines,  fists full of schwag and the business cards of other bloggers, and most importantly, my confidence through the roof.  In the end my anxiety would be vanquished, and I would be the queen of the bloggers (or at least the queen of CoffeeJitters.Net) and then my allies would be rewarded with loads of link love (which I’ll try to do anyway). Those things happened, I just didn’t write the post that way. But I can totally see now how that structure would improve this monstrosity.

See, I get it Danae. I really do. But, I also know myself well enough to know that any thoughts of rewriting this 1000+ word post are little puffs of nothingness that will never happen – especially while I”m in the middle of this 4000 mile road trip. So the post goes up as is.

The conference was worth every penny, and worth every moment of awkwardness. I feel a little more confident in what I’m doing as a blogger, no one bit me or gave me a why-the-hell-are-you-talking-to-me look while I was at the conference, I made some new friends, and now it’s time to put this post to bed and get some sleep. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us tomorrow. The next post will come from 600 to 900 miles away, and maybe from a different country. Not sure yet. We’re flying by the seat of our pants.