I wanted to start off this post by saying "the toddler years are crazy!" But, I have NO idea what I'm in for. As soon as Adele turned 1, in my book she became a toddler. Yet, again, I have no idea about the toddler years, as I've heard we're in for a lot!
So I'll say: Toddler time is crazy. It's amazing to me how many things Adele can accomplish in such a short amount of time. Just as quickly as I hand her a banana, it is thrown on the floor and one of her socks is off. Just as quickly as I say "please don't do that," she is dipping her food in Campbell's water dish, stuffing it on her mouth and then another sock is off.
At 18 months old, Adele is amazing!!!!! She's always amazing, but now she knows so, so much. "Where's Dada?" and "What's this?" are the main questions, even when "Dada" is in the room. Also, "Mama" and "Dada" are interchangeable, as sometimes I'm "Dada" and Sean is "Mama."
When she's not picking out stories to read or building blocks, she is working on getting into the freezer because she knows that's where Mom keeps the fish sticks, or asking me to open the refrigerator because she knows her yogurt and applesauce are in there. Or she's running around the house chasing after Campbell, or "helping" me "rearrange" the Tupperware.
She knows the remote control turns on "Yo Gabba Gabba" and knows it's special time when it's Saturday morning and we watch TV in Mom and Dad's bed in our PJs. She knows it's special because she puts her head on my belly.
Many of the things I said I "would not do when I'm a mom" are definitely things I definitely do. TV is not always the answer, but when you need five seconds to create dinner in the kitchen without the toddler sticking her fingers into vents and spilling milk all over the floor, DVR'd Sesame Street is THE BEST. Or when the time it takes to recover from a full-blown temper tantrum (complete with flailing arms and legs) because she doesn't want to go in the high chair is more time than it actually takes her to eat dinner, YOU GIVE HER DINNER ON THE FLOOR, DINNER IN THE LIVING ROOM ... DINNER ANYWHERE BUT THE HIGH CHAIR. Because I've learned to pick my battles. Sometimes it's just me if Sean is out of town, and I've worked all day and I'm taking care of Adele and Campbell and the only peace comes when she gets to eat dinner on the floor ...... then the answer is clear.
Dinner on the floor.
It's crazy and unpredictable, but I enjoy it all. It's real, it's true, it's the best.
Since Tour de Pink, things have been hard. My friend and TdP sister Ishiuan (who has metastatic breast cancer) recently found out her cancer has spread even more: into the bones, with more tumors in the brain. My friend Kate (breast cancer/LFS) also found out her breast cancer is back after many clean scans.
I'm sick of BCA month. WE ARE ALL SO AWARE. WE DON'T NEED AWARENESS. We're aware. We're aware. I want to scream: WE ALREADY KNOW, BUT IT'S STILL KILLING PEOPLE!
With my breast MRI coming up next month and my NIH clinic in December I've been really anxious, having dreams I'm waiting for calls, etc. It's hard to learn of and know so many women with metastatic breast cancer. Because most of them, at one point, were cancer-free before it became mets. It just comes back. Quickly, and all over, and it's stage 4. And that's it. No cure. Years of clean, NED scans. And then, quickly, it's mets.
I'm just having trouble getting to the next thing. The next milestone. It's that fence again, popping up. Nothing; I can't move forward until these scans are over. I WAS counting down until April, because that's my five-year mark. But it's so hard to look at that with scans coming up. It's actually paralyzing. Quite paralyzing. I go and I do and I'm busy but it's hard. The anxiety is getting to me. I haven't been sleeping.
All of this, though, is normal, pre-scan nerves. Scanxiety, which I recently wrote about. It's all normal and to be expected and it's part of my life. All of it. Even the paralyzing fear. But maybe because this BCA month is different, and we just had Tour de Pink, and in April it will be five years. It's just hard. JUST PLAIN HARD.
You just go along and you just do. I never really thought it would get that much easier as I approached year 2, 3, 4. I thought it would get a LITTLE easier, and it has. But 4.5 years out feels almost like 1.5 years out, sans the endless surgeries. But then again, I'm in it, almost all the time.
Don't get me wrong: what I do is a blessing - my involvement with the PA Breast Cancer Coalition, PA Pink Zone, the YSC and other things. There are always events, speaking engagements. We just had Tour de Pink and we're in BCA month. And through this involvement, more and more of my friends are breast cancer patients/survivors. I wouldn't trade any of it for the world ; the women and families I've met are incredible, and having them as support is priceless. But it's a world I'm always in. Yes, I CHOOSE to be in it, to an extent. There is love and empowerment that comes from this world. There is rising up and overcoming obstacles. There are new revelations and exciting opportunities. There is love, again. So much love, so much connection. But there is also pain and devastation. Women you meet, women you relate to, women who could very well be YOU, are passing away. Women with families, with kids, who were "too young for breast cancer."
It's the world. I chose it. The breast cancer and LFS world. I am IN it. Surrounded by it. But I CHOOSE it, every day. This is the work I do. This is my personal passion. These events and fundraisers and bike rides and summits and conferences and sharing my story and the new research and always looking for connections. I choose it. What brings me great joy and reward also brings me much pain and anxiety.
It's not my whole world, but it is a part of my world. These women and these organizations become part of it. Without them, I don't know what I would do. There's no answer and there's no clear path for how to navigate. It's what I do, it's part of who I am. The love lifts me up more than it breaks my heart.
So, year 4 (almost 5) really doesn't feel like it. Five years out feels almost ... like, really?! I don't know what it's supposed to feel like. You're never out of the woods, in the clear. The fear is always on deck, scan to scan. The appointments won't ever end. The scans won't ever end. This thing, this fear, this big block of whatever -- it waits on deck. I don't want this post to be a depressing one, I just wish to convey the fear and anxiety is always there.
My breast MRI is on 11/11. As always, I have every ounce of faith it's going to be OK. And also, as always, I have every fear it's not. I just hope and I pray and I rattle. Shaky, rattling, shaky. Good, happy, calm, peaceful thoughts. Peace. Rattling.
It's hard to see past 11/11. But I know there is so much past 11/11. Every year it's the same. But this, completely, is out of my control. It doesn't make it less rattly.
This morning we had our parent-teacher conference for Adele's 18 month milestone. She is doing beautifully. Her teacher makes a slideshow of pictures, songs and inspirational quotes at every parent-teacher conference. This morning we see pictures of Adele smiling and playing and happy at school. The lyrics in the background are of a song about never wanting the child to grow up. Yes, it goes by fast. I can't believe how different she looks now compared to last April, when she turned 1. It goes by fast. As a mommy, part of me does want to keep her little forever. I cherish all our tiny precious moments. But I also want her to grow, become bigger and stronger. And she is. The most emotional part is the growing up - in a happy way, not a sad way.
I still can't believe this is my daughter. Those fluffy pigtails, those cheeks. She paints and runs around and plays and asks questions.
It goes by fast.
Seeing Adele grow up is my happy. My heart is so full it's scary. It's so scary. The feelings are so intense, so raw. I hold back tears. She is absolutely everything.
No comments:
Post a Comment