This month you made your international television debut on CNN!
This story was about Debbie Cantwell, another woman who survived breast cancer. She went on to build an organization to help other young women with breast cancer. She helped us by hiring someone to come clean our home when I was tired and weak from the treatments. Now she is being honored as a CNN Hero, and I jumped at the opportunity to thank her, and tell the world how critical her help was. [Full Story]
You were so cute, but I wish I’d made you sit still before-hand, so I could get a better part in your hair.
Then, a few days later, they came out with another video, this time it was longer, and showed even more of you…
The whole production was so much fun, and the team that came out to interview us was really nice, and set us all at ease right off the bat. Anytime you get a chance to stand up and say thank you – grab it!
We’ve had other big developments this month as well. We moved into a new apartment. It’s quite a bit smaller than our old place, but you love it. For one thing, you get quite a bit more freedom to run around the house than I allowed you in the old place, and you get to spend more time playing unsupervised in your bedroom. Some of that is out of necessity.
For instance, you graduated from a crib to a big-girl toddler bed.
I love listening to your non-stop chatter over the baby monitor. One day I heard: “keep trying, keep trying” and “try it again.” When I became a Mommy, I was granted eyes in the back of my head, and the ability to see through walls; I knew exactly what you were doing. I went into your room and sure enough, there you were perched on top of the crib railing making your escape. No more crib for you.
Unfortunately, you are also quite skilled at opening doors, and know exactly what to do with a deadbolt. I’m sure our attempts to keep you from wandering away would fail the fire marshal’s standards for ease of egress, but a mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do. I’m certain a fire marshal with a 2 year old would understand.
Your happy place here in our new home seems to be mommy and daddy’s bed. Whenever you get quiet and disappear, that’s the first place I look. There you are, perched in the middle of our bed surrounded with your books and babies. And a couple times a day you will take me by the hand and lead me in there and ask to “sluggle.” How can I say no to that? When I go to bed at night, the first step is emptying our bed of your playthings so there is room for me to lie down.
You sing all the time. You make up little songs, but most of the time you just sing a running report of what you happen to be doing at the moment. I have often heard you singing: “sitting in a chair, sitting in a chair…”
Your language skills are really blossoming, but sometimes it takes a little time to figure out what you mean. The other day you came to me and asked me to: “rescue it, the pie cake?” I could not for the life of me figure that one out, until eventually, like Lassie leading Timmy to the well, you brought me to your bedroom and looked hard at the register under the window. So I looked too.
Sure enough, there was a pancake (pie cake) stuck in the register, along with a few crayons. Maybe we need to rethink the unsupervised playtime in your bedroom. Also, we need to figure out how to childproof that register, because it get’s really hot. I know it gets really hot because the thermostat is within your reach. Maybe we need to rethink those ease of egress issues, too.
I don’t image this post is going to garner me any mom of the year awards, but that’s not the point anyway.
I’m just doing the best I can, just like most of the other parents out there.
Someday you might find yourself in the same boat. Parenting isn’t full of easy, one-size-fits-all answers. It’s hard, and sometimes you feel like there is no right answer. Parenting is trial by fire, learn on the job, and there is no way to know if you’re doing the right thing. It’s also the most fun I’ve ever had.
Today is the one year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis. This is actually a big day for me. It’s the anniversary of the day my life was turned inside out, and it has put me on a wild emotional roller coaster ride. Thinking about this cancerversary has eaten up all my energy and focus lately – right in the middle of midterms for my school and due dates for my other writing projects, as well as finals for daddy’s school, and his preparation for teaching classes next quarter, and all the other urgencies and emergencies we tackle day after day. Here we are less than two weeks away from your second birthday, and I’m just now getting around to writing this letter for your 23rd month. I haven’t even started planning your birthday party.
Don’t go thinking you are being neglected. You are by far the best part of my day – the one I will drop everything for, no matter what.
But it’s important to know that there are times when life is like this. There are times when everything seems to be coming at you from all different directions, right while you’re dealing with an emotionally heavy load, and you just can’t seem to get anything done. Forget everything, it’s hard to accomplish even one thing. It’s hard to focus; when you react to one urgency, 3 more show up right away from other arenas. You bounce from crisis to crisis, putting out fires without ever touching those all important items on your to do list…
Yup, everybody has days like that. It’s part of the human condition.
That is the most important thing to know about this situation. That when you are overwhelmed like this, you are not alone. Everyone else has been there, they know what it feels like. The details may differ, but the everything-all-at-once-ness of it is universal.
Lately, you’ve taken to holding your little hand up, palm out, and telling me to “Stop” when things aren’t going quite the way you think they should. I’m not quite sure where you got that from, it’s not something that I do, but that idea might be right where you need to start in order to get through a situation like this. Well, without the hand gesture. Most grownups don’t respond very well to that particular gesture. But take a minute. Stop everything. You might even need to tell people that unless someone is bleeding or on fire, you need 5, or 10, or 50 uninterrupted minutes to sort things out. Lock yourself in a closet if you have to, and take some time for yourself.
Taking a long walk is also a great option, if you’re in a place where you can do that. An outdoors walk is best. Yoga is also a great option for releasing nervous energy and helping you regain focus.
Then once you’ve expended a good bit of that nervous energy, come back and pull out a notepad and start writing. Write whatever. Anything and everything that comes into your head. Just dump it all. Let it all out. I call this the brain dump. I got the idea from the Artist’s Way, where you start each day with writing time. The idea is that all these little stressful bits and pieces of everything that you’re carrying around with you are keeping you from connecting with your creativity. While I don’t necessarily do pages every day in the morning, I do agree with the general idea. I find that all that crap floating around in my brain gets in the way of my productivity as well. So just empty your brain onto the page. Shred the pages when you’re done if you like, this is for you and no one else. You’re just clearing your head of all the noise and static.
Now you can start writing your to do list and prioritizing items. This whole process could be done in half an hour or less, but would likely be more effective if you invested a little more time.
Of course this wont make all those emergencies go away. But it will help you dodge, parry, duck, or deal with all the crap that comes flying at you.
I went through that process myself today, and as a result, I’ve decided that your birthday party is not going to happen in March. And since I have a conference and finals in April, it might even be later. I suppose we could just cancel the party altogether, but I do love getting all our friends and family together, and it doesn’t happen very often. I have also been looking forward to using your birthday party as an opportunity to say thank you to all the people who have been so supportive of us through this entire cancer ordeal (and I can’t bear the thought of missing one of your birthday parties). I still don’t know what I’m going to do as far as that is concerned. I just know I’m not going to put the time and energy into a party for this month.
I have already started rounding up and just telling people you are two years old. There’s a part of me that resists this still, but you are behaving like a two year old. Yes, the temper tantrums, and the back arching, and the constant testing of boundaries, but also a more sophisticated sense of humor, you can count to ten, know all of the letters, and draw these amazing little smiley faces.
We’ve had a rough, and very busy month. You even had your first Emergency Room visit with a significant fever and cold. But we got through it all, and we had a lot of laughs, too.
You bring so much joy to our lives. I’ve had a very difficult year, but there has not been one day since you were born where you did not brighten and improve my day.
This morning I heard the story of Aleisha Hunter, who was diagnosed with Breast Cancer when she was three years old. I had to rush right home to hug my baby.
When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I understood that my daughter’s risk for developing cancer was increased, but it didn’t occur to me that she could develop it as a toddler.
That’s an odd thing for me to say; since my diagnosis, I have been drumming in to my friends and neighbors, and everyone with whom I interact online, that no one is too young to get breast cancer. I tell people not to let a doctor, or anyone else, be dismissive of a breast lump or discomfort, or suggest it couldn’t be cancer because of your age. It was easy for me to say a 20-year-old is not too young to get breast cancer, but my mind did not allow me to extend that caution to toddlers.
I spend a lot of time thinking about this diagnosis and how to manage the fear, particularly in reference to my daughter. How do I teach her to live her life at full speed, while still teaching her to take care. I don’t want to teach her to be fearful; I don’t want her to live a life of timidity and fear. On the other hand, I don’t want her to be dismissive of danger. Where do you find that balance? I have thought about teaching her to do breast exams, but the time frame I had in mind was a whole lot closer to puberty. Actually, that probably still wont change. But I want to find ways of discussing breast cancer and breast exams, not as a way of looking for a monster that is to be feared, but just a part of self care, like putting on a seat belt when you get in the car, not an anxious event, but one you wouldn’t overlook either.
But, as in other aspects of parenting, I think the best way to teach her to not let fear take control, to teach her to balance boldness with prudence, is to be a good example.
Hmmm….
I’m nearly done with treatment. I have two weeks left of radiation and then six months herceptin and then I just get on with my life, hoping the beast does not return. I can’t say it will be back to life as usual, because post-cancer life involves a bit of looking back over your shoulder. Post-cancer life means scans every six months to see if the cancer is regrouping for another attack. Post-cancer life means every ache and pain takes on a new meaning, it means asking “Am I being a hypochondriac, or would ignoring this ache be irresponsible?” It means paying extra attention to what lawmakers are doing – will their actions restrict my access to insurance or health care? Heightened awareness is a necessity. The trick, it seems, is to find a way to prevent that focus and attention from becoming a fixation and translating into fear.
And I’ve got to figure this out quick, because I have a little girl watching my every move.
My heart goes out to Aleisha, and her family. She underwent a full mastectomy, inluding lymph node disection, and is expected to make a full recovery. Thinking ahead to those awkward years of puberty and breast development, I hope she is able to develop and maintain a strong and healthy body image, and that she too finds a way to balance boldness with prudence.
I also hope that by spreading this story we can help save more lives. Breast cancer is not a disease of the aged, it can strike at any time. Please check your boobies.
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