Good Morning (As my toddlers run through my room with arts and crafts, big kisses and hugs, and jumping right into my arms in bed)! “Happy Mother’s Day” They are screaming in those adorable little voices. I slowly wake up with my new normal routine during chemotherapy. A big smile on my face, a big good morning greeting with the most energy I can belt out. Not sure, I can open my eyes this morning as they are now swollen half shut from my treatment. I keep the room dark so the kids think I am getting in “5 more minutes of peace” because it is Mother’s Day when the truth is I cannot even face the light.
Mr. Mom is up and at it again since 6am. He has made multiple trips to CVS to help me get through additional side effects that I will fail to mention today. He is making sure the girls have crafts to color for me; he has been baking muffins with the girls that I can hopefully eat, and keeping the house intact. Did I mention how incredible this man is?
My diagnosis has permanently changed my life forever, but today I am feeling more emotional about Mother’s Day than I would like to be. Being a mother is hands down the best gift I have ever been able to experience thus far. The hardest job, but the most rewarding. They say God gives you what you can handle and he sure gave me two priceless gifts. I guess God also thought I would be able to fight through cancer and raising two toddlers as well.
To my daughters this mother’s day
These past five months have been quite the change for you girls. Both daughters, age 3 and 5, so small yet filled with so much curiosity. You are not sure why mommy has boo boos on her body. You know that the medicine made her hair fall out, you have seen change the way you knew mommy went to work every day but instead to Doctor appointments. You watch as Daddy now takes you to most places, school, dance, gymnastics, soccer and everything in between. You get thrilled more than ever when Mommy can make it out of the house to one of your events. You have become kinder and more compassionate girls. You make me feel so proud when you say, “mommy don’t wear a wig or a scarf because being bald is what makes you beautiful.” Thank you for being so small but giving me more confidence that you even understand at such a young age.
More than all of this, you have become so strong and independent yourself. While mommy is here fighting for you both and my health, you have both taken on so much in such a short time. I want you to know I am so proud of both of you. You have been helping around the house, doing laundry, getting yourselves dressed, bringing mommy cups and cups of water next to her bed. For how much you both have taken on in such a short time, I want to thank you my little princesses. You keep Mommy so strong!
To you CANCER on this Mother’s Day
Congrats again, for pulling on my heart strings once again. You have left me with eye sockets that are in pain and eyes that will barely open. While Mr. Mom is out with the kids, you did not think that I would not be home shedding a tear or two, or what feels like millions. For every tear that streams down my eyes, I have to stop and wonder, “are you taking the few eyelashes I have left as well?” And if you are that’s okay too because I would give having no hair, I would live with swollen eyes, no eyelashes or eyebrows. I would live with all these side effects and pain if it meant being able to be a MOM for a lot longer and I mean years and many many years if I will be that lucky.
And through these life and monumental moments that my children and I will have together. I will be sure to spend every future moment with them making sure they know how beautiful they are, how beautiful life is and how they mean the absolute world to me. The day they made me a mother was the best thing that has ever happened to me.
Lastly, as I write this post in bed, listening to the rainstorm outside, with my beanie hat keeping my bald head warm I will share this passage that fits so appropriately this rainy Mother’s Day as I battle cancer.
A family that weathers a storm together stays close in the warmth of the protective hull of the boar even as the ocean rages.
Once in the clearing, this family will always remember the warmly lit faces of the ones they love as they huddled close to one another in the boat.
Whatever the outcome, the memory of these faces will forever remain strong.