Mom wins and kidney beans: more thoughts on motherhood

Lately Adele has been saying things that have me cracking up, like, while looking at a family photo album last night, I pointed to a picture of my cousin Matthew (when he was a baby), and asked: "who is this?" not really expecting her to know. But quickly she shot back her answer: 

"George," she said, which is a boy in her class, who looks similar to how Matthew looked when he was a baby. I laughed so hard I couldn't contain myself. 

And when she asked for a boo-boo pop (which is a teether stored in the freezer used at school and at home for injuries and low grade fevers) after bopping herself repeatedly in the head with her xylophone mallet.

{Bops self on the head 2-3 times with xylophone mallet}

Me: "Adele, please don't do that. You'll hurt yourself."

{continues to bopp her head}

Adele: "I want a boo-boo pop." (for her injury, which was self-inflicted)

They say being a parent requires patience. 

It also requires letting go of most of your expectations of how a certain task will go, such as dinner, or bath time, or a play date. Since becoming a mom I have cultivated these highly desired skills that I thought were only found in mythical creatures I read about or watched on TV: patience and letting go of expectations. 

I know most people who know me assume I can't fly by the seat of my pants. Things require careful planning. Itineraries are great. I love Google calendars. I book my travel, my babysitters, my plans with friends, months in advance. I like everything to be just so. Sometimes that kind of planning is necessary. And sometimes it's nice. And sometimes I enjoy it. 

But then: toddler.

Now don't get me wrong, we are great with our routines. Routines are an important part of childrearing. But do we always, always stick with them? No. Because that's just life. 

Adele usually goes to bed at 7 p.m. But sometimes we're at a friend's house past 7 p.m. Adele usually eats at the table. But sometimes Mommy needs to keep her sanity after a long day at work, and Adele won't - just won't - sit in her booster seat and there is thrashing and screaming - and eating in the living room in front of the TV provides that sanity. 

Adele usually eats balanced meals. But sometimes she just eats two bananas. Or an apple. And sometimes she just eats Goldfish.

Adele usually listens to us. "One more book and then it's bedtime." 

"We don't throw balls in the house."

"Make gentle to Campbell."

"Please use your words, and say 'please' and 'thank you'"

But sometimes, toddler. Just toddler.

Photo by Lloyd Wolf

I'm completely fine with letting go of some expectations, especially about plans and timing. Because there are naps and dirty diapers and runny noses. With a toddler, things come up. I let myself enjoy this. Because if I didn't, I wouldn't get by. 

There are non-negotiables, of course. Safety and health, first and foremost. But when it comes to everything else, as long as she's HAPPY, SAFE AND HEALTHY I am OK. I enjoy the craziness. I really do. I know you may not believe me, but I do. I love it. It adds (more) color to my world. It causes my heart to flourish. It's rewarding. In ways I couldn't even begin to describe. If I were to explain it as it were an illustration, it is a large, forever growing picture of a flower, long, flowy petals, twirling round and round, bursting with color. Curly and growing. All the time. Filling up the page, expanding beyond the page. That is also motherhood to me. A continuously flourishing flower. My heart and soul on a piece of paper, always growing, always surprised, new colors added every day. Colors I had never seen before. That is motherhood, and everything that comes with it: new colors, swirling petals. 

And we are so lucky and blessed. Adele is a happy and healthy baby. And boy, is she smart! She sings, she "reads", she plays with her dollies, she builds with her blocks, she can brush her teeth and use the potty, she shares with her friends, she giggles uncontrollably. She is a joy. A squishy, joyous joy. 

She knows how much she is loved. As long as there is love, other things can slide. And now a few thoughts on toddlerhood lately, as Adele is now 21 months! 

On getting out the door in the morning:

Adele has to go through every single item in the pantry to pick out a snack for the three-minute car ride, even if she just finished breakfast, or is still eating breakfast. Some items she's chosen are a jar of jam, Hanukkah candles, and margarita mix. We finally settle on graham crackers or Cheerios or a Kashi bar, something that can be transported. 

On taking care of Mama:

Adele makes sure I have my water during dinner, shares her dinner and snacks, and nighttime bottles, with me. When I tell her something is mine, she will grab it and hand it to me. 

On helping:

Adele wants to do everything herself and/or everything like Mama does, from cutting the food on her plate and emptying out her potty (don't touch that!) to pouring the Cheerios from the container into the plastic bowl. It's incredibly endearing. She wants to help with everything. Every.THING. I love it, but it also creates a lot of effort where effort otherwise would not exist. 

My bad for giving her an egg to help with breakfast. I told her, "Here, hold this egg, very carefully and do not let it drop. Mommy will use it for making breakfast."

Even before I could finish my sentence, she dropped the egg.

So I gave her the very important task of sorting uncooked kidney beans in Tupperware containers. I gave her a few containers, a few beans, and some large mixing spoons. She got to work, moving the beans from container to container, and handed me the spoons to "help" with breakfast. That lasted about 10 minutes (enough for me to make scrambled eggs), until she started putting the beans in Campbell's water dish, or all over the floor, and I had to clean them up. However, even the tiniest victory of creating an on-the-spot task for a toddler, in which I actually had time to make something using the stove, was considered a mom win. 

On mom wins:

I do have a lot of mom wins. I do. Getting through the hardest tasks are considered mom wins for me. Just like getting her shoes and socks on each day, getting her into the car after school, getting her to wash her hands upon entering and leaving the classroom, and getting her to actually sit in her booster seat at the table for a meal.

Getting on the shoes and socks: I show her that Mommy gets on her own shoes and socks, and asks if she wants to do it herself or have Mommy do it. 

Getting her into the car: food. 

Getting her to wash hands at school: almost impossible. Because first we have to roll her sleeves. And then she can't decide if she wants to use the pink princess foam soap or the blue liquid soap. And then we decide. And then once it's on her hands it's the wrong soap. And then there is crying and wiping said soap all over Mommy's work pants. Then we use the other soap. And then there may be some more crying. Eventually we get the soapy hands under the faucet, after, of course, Adele adjusts the temperature exactly to her liking. And then at first she doesn't want to dry her hands. Mommy gets some paper towels. But Adele wants to do it herself, so those paper towels go to waste. And now it's been 35 minutes. 

Other mom wins include having her ACTUALLY HELP me with housework, and I don't mean sorting kidney beans. I mean, she helps mop up messes on the kitchen floor, she helps transport laundry from the washer to the dryer. She brings Campbell his bones and closes his crate door when he's in there and it's time for us to go.

Photo by Lloyd Wolf

And other times, I am just completely and utterly depleted and defeated. When every attempt at peace and cooperation is met with absolute chaos - screaming, throwing items on the floor (most notably food, and most notably breakfast 60 percent of mornings.)

Like any mom (I suppose), I try out many different options. When Adele was first introduced to the world of breakfast (and of all meals, for that matter), my food never failed her. Anything I handed to her, she ate. And she ate all of it, to the point I was running from table to fridge to freezer to microwave, trying to find additional food to fill her plate with. 

And then toddler happened. Breakfast used to go rather smoothly, with Adele and I quietly sharing our oatmeal, giggling, trading spoons. 

And then oatmeal wasn't welcome at the table. So I found solace with other items she would eat: applesauce and yogurt. We did that for a few weeks. 

And somehow along the way, breakfast turned into flinging food all over the kitchen, or eating upstairs in the Pack N' Play while watching "TD."

Finally, today, I was sick of the battle.

I sat her down in her booster seat at the kitchen table. I gave her sliced plums (which she loves), her toddler organic yogurt (which at one point she loved because there is a baby on the package), a graham cracker, a "big girl cup" with a little bit of milk, and her water sippy cup. There were going to be no more negotiations. No more "I'll literally give you anything you will put in your mouth, even if it's just Goldfish."

No more.

I put the food in front of her. 

"This is breakfast," I said. "This is what we're eating today."

(Keep in mind it's clear my child doesn't starve - as you can see from her juicy cheeks and thighs which I like to kiss incessantly.)

My plan was met with pure and utter chaos.

I normally keep my cool as the food flies. I remind myself that she is a toddler. That food can be picked up. That it is OK. That if I remain calm, then she will be calm. That I CAN DEAL WITH THIS.

But today, Friday morning, Sean had been away since Wednesday, and all this past weekend, so I'd been balancing work and Adele and Campbell by myself. At this point in the game I was barely hanging on by a thread.

First she threw the plums.

And then the yogurt spoon. And what little bit of milk I had given her (in case of a spill), was all over the table.

Everything was thrown all over the kitchen, including the graham cracker, which I didn't even find until like 10 minutes later.

I took all the food away, and explained, calmly but sternly, that food that is thrown on the floor is taken away. That it is NOT acceptable to throw food on the floor.

I reiterated that we use words instead of screaming and crying, and that if we want something, to ask Mommy nicely. 

After the food was off the table she proceeded to cry for probably five minutes, but it felt like 30 to me.

I stepped away from the scene. I had to calm myself down. I proceeded to make my coffee and clean up while she screamed at the top of her lungs. 

*Deep breaths*

After letting her wallow for a little bit, I went over to her, spoke calmly and explained if we are to eat breakfast, we keep breakfast on the table.

I asked her if she wanted a spoon for her yogurt.

Yes.

The situation eventually evened itself out, and Adele placed the plum skins that she didn't want to eat on her plate instead of the floor, so that was a mini mom win. She ate her yogurt. 

By the end of this session, I was depleted of all energy and sanity. I still had to get myself dressed and feed Campbell breakfast, and I still had to get Adele out the door, which is another 20-minute battle.

However, with a full tummy, getting her into the car (with her Elmo book) wasn't too hard a task. But by the time I drop her off at school (have her wash her hands, get her signed in, say "goodbye"), I head to my office. By 8 a.m. I am depleted. Defeated.

And without Sean, I do it all over again at 5 p.m.

I said in my most recent post that motherhood is a million decisions every day. 

It's also a million little battles every day. Some we win. Some we lose. Some we choose not to fight at all. (Dinner last night was pizza I ordered, and we ate it in the living room while coloring and watching TV.)

But some battles are worth fighting, like making sure this little firecracker of mine actually EATS her breakfast every morning.

Motherhood: battles, choices, mom wins and mom fails. All wrapped up into one hour. 

potty training and paci wars: a few thoughts on motherhood

Oh my goodness does it go by fast! Since my post in late November, we've had a swirl of fun events and Adele has been hitting developmental milestones faster than corn popping on the stove. (I couldn't think of a better metaphor for something really quick and surprising, but not completely unexpected.)

Out of nowhere, or so it seems, she has started to go on the potty, speaks in full sentences, calls Sean "Sean" (it's "Daddy" to you, by the way, Adele), and so on. 

She had been saying "I want to go potty" for a few weeks now, and has been going with me when I go to the bathroom both at home and in public places, so she knows how to use the toilet paper, flush the toilet and wash her hands. A few days into winter break (which started for us on Dec. 24), Adele's plastic pink potty came in the mail (thank you, Amazon!). The first and second day she used it for both pee and poo! She told me she had to go, so I took her into the bathroom. I asked her if she wanted her clothes off.

"Yes."

"Do you want your diaper off?"

"Yes."

And she sat on the potty and went! Cleaning up afterwards was a whole different story, as she wanted to clean the potty herself and I told her that Mommy does that part. 

I know we have a road ahead of us when it comes to potty training, but I am excited to say we've at least started! We ordered some Pull-Ups in the mail, and told her teachers at school today. We'll see how it goes, letting her lead the way, and telling us when she's ready. 

More amazing developments:

Adele hands me my shoes when I say it's time to go, says "thank you mommy" and "thank you daddy." She brushes her teeth, cleans up her blocks, asks for more juice, water or milk (in her words, anyway), can differentiate between which "TD" (TV) shows she wants to watch: Elmo (Sesame Street) or Mickey (Mickey Mouse Clubhouse). She sings amazingly recognizable songs in the car, so on key and on point I can tell when she is singing the chorus of "Wheels on the Bus" or the "Mommy and Daddy Song," which I made up one day to try to keep her spirits up on the ride home from school.

Sip and Paint for my birthday!

She is 20 months old! This little person. I just can't.

(the pictures throughout this post are some moments from the end of 2015, including our family outing to Discovery Space, Hanukkah, my birthday celebrations, play dates with friends, and spending Christmas with friends!)

St. Augustine, Florida December 2015

Jacksonville, Florida December 2015

It's hard to not blog as much as I used to. When I started this blog I was dealing with a lot of raw emotions and no place to put them. Writing helped me sort out my feelings while giving me a place to vent, while also informing friends and family members of my surgery results or next step in my breast cancer journey. It's not to say that now I have less to say. Because I have a TON to say. I just have ZERO time to say it, it seems. So this post is just some random thoughts I have now.

Adele's first haircut

True, I'm (thank g-d) not dealing with breast cancer. Instead my days are busy with Adele and her latest thing (right now it's coloring books and stickers and Doc McStuffins), and her activities: setting up play dates nearly every weekend, trips to Discovery Space and story time at the library, and finding other age-appropriate activities now that our days of going to the park with friends has come to an end. (thank you Pennsylvania winter.)

I turned 31 on Dec. 22! We celebrated with a cocktail party on Dec. 19.

My birthday cocktail party with Branyan and Nicole

Then comes work and our social plans and family life. These days I prefer laundry and TV nights to martinis with girlfriends, and I bask in the glory of getting into bed before 9 p.m. on a Friday night. But Sean, Adele and I are busy as ever! In between our dinner plans with friends and Penn State sports, we're traveling (Virginia in December for Hanukkah, and Florida for this past winter break). Sean and I have our own upcoming travel in March for the YSC Summit and then back to Austin, TX in April for another wedding!

And yes, I still have my girls nights! In fact, I still have my me-time party nights, like for my 31st birthday, I threw myself a Sip and Paint party and a cocktail party. (pics above)

So since my last post we've had my birthday celebrations, Adele's first haircut, my clinic at NIH (NED; follow up in 1 year!!!), winter break, which was filled with many days of relaxing family time followed by a trip to Jacksonville, FL on Dec. 24-Jan. 3 for the Penn State bowl game.

Decorating cookies Christmas morning with the Markowski family

And just because I'm busy doesn't mean I don't have my thoughts. Being a mom is the hardest thing I've ever done, and continue to do. Just this morning, Adele was screaming at the top of her lungs because I wouldn't give her her paci (pacifier with a little stuffed monkey attached, of which we have many) in the middle of breakfast. I held my ground.

"Paci is taking a nap. You can see it later."

"You're a big girl. You don't need paci during breakfast."

And the power of distraction and changing the subject, which are KEY for toddlers: "Do you want some more oatmeal? How about some more juice? Would you like to use your big girl cup and straw? That's right, two hands. What are you going to do in school today?"

"Where's Mickey?"

"Mickey Mouse? He's at home with his family. You can see him after school." (on the 'TD')

That's the gist of most of our conversations. But back to the paci: I wouldn't let her have it during breakfast. She screamed, she cried. She thrashed ferociously around in her booster seat. But I didn't budge. I remained calm. I drank my coffee. I spoke to her in a calm voice. Eventually, we settled on more granola and some more juice, which I let her pour herself into her "big girl" cup (a cup without a lid). Most of the juice ended up on the floor, and she had maybe 0.1 oz of granola for breakfast, BUT she didn't get that paci.

A little of the back story: right now we're using the paci for afternoon naps AT HOME on the weekends. We take it with us in the diaper bag for travel in case of a sudden meltdown. We used it a lot for travel this past week to Florida. We use it when she's sick.

She doesn't use it at school and she doesn't use it in bed at night UNLESS she's sick/has a fever. Because in the world of paci wars, sleep wins. Anything to get to sleep. Paci, Mickey, anything. Anything to soothe a sick child. A gold paci, if that's what it takes. A solid gold paci.

We're not trying to completely get rid of the paci. Not yet, anyway. We're trying to reduce it back down to just when necessary. We let it slide over the break, like I said, because I needed to keep my sanity and also because airplanes.

But she got in the habit of always having paci during our trip to Florida. So this morning at breakfast when she didn't get it, it was meltdown time.

Fun at Discovery Space

This is just a teensy morsel of what makes mothering hard. OF COURSE I WANT TO GIVE HER EVERYTHING SHE WANTS. OF COURSE I WANT TO HAVE A SCREAM-FREE BREAKFAST MOST DAYS OF THE WEEK. But sometimes we have to do the hard thing.

99.9 percent of the decisions I make with Adele -- just speaking about when it's me alone with her; Sean and I agree on most of our co-parenting techniques ;) -- are gut-based, from the heart. I JUST KNOW what the right thing is. Or I THINK I know, and I try and I learn.

Fun at Discovery Space

For me, this morning, it was no paci at breakfast. A simple, tiny decision. I make a million gazillion parenting decisions every day with Adele. This one time, it was no paci during breakfast.

Tonight it will be something else. And then something else.

It's the way to cut her nails. The way to brush her hair. The way to rock her to sleep. The way to not rock her to sleep. The reaction I give when she runs toward the toilet in the public restroom like she's about to dive in. Am I calm? "Adele please don't stick your hands in the toilet." Or am I crazy? "NOOO!!"? It's both.

It's what to feed her and when. It's if she decides when she's done eating, or if I decide when she's done eating. It's what shoes to wear, what socks to wear (are these too big or too small?), what pants to wear, if she wears an undershirt (will she be warm in this fleece at school?). It's every single second of every single day that I make a decision. Some days it's easy. Some days I just KNOW. Some days I guess. Some days I completely surprise myself.

Like when I remained calm, speaking to the nurse on the phone, one time Adele had a fever. Or I see her, in the split second my eyes blink, put the Hanukkah window decal in her mouth and there's no thought, just a reaction: "NOOO! YUCKY! VERY, VERY DANGEROUS."

Or when I watch from the other side of the room, in slow motion, as she gets up and down from the couch. Is she going to fall? Will she make it up? I'm on the edge of my seat, waiting to jump up to catch her. But I have to let her do this on her own.

Or without thinking, I cup the side of the glass table with my hand as to protect her head from under it. Or I catch the cup of milk before it falls. Or I don't catch it, and I have to change her pants before school starts.

Christmas Eve with Brandon, Brody and Miles

If I could describe it, and trust me, I can't, but being a mother is just like all of those things: waiting on the edge of your seat to jump up to catch your child every second of every day. Sometimes you get there in time. Sometimes you don't. Sometimes you didn't need to. Sometimes you did need to and you didn't.

There are no answers. Just decisions. A million decisions all the time. That's what makes motherhood hard. But it's also what makes it literally the best thing in the world I've ever done.

Playtime with Sara

Playtime with Brody and Miles

I look forward to filling her plastic bowl with Goldfish, taking them into the living room for her, and helping her with her farm animal puzzle or Mega Blocks. I love when she wraps her arms around my legs. Or when she says "mommy's water" or points out other things around the house. Or when she shares her snacks with me. Or when she laughs hysterically when I pretend I can't see her hiding behind me.

Or how she concentrates SO hard when she's coloring or eating.

Opening Hanukkah presents with Daddy

There is nothing I've experienced quite as heart wrenching and heart opening as motherhood. It's not just the love so deep it hurts. It's those decisions, millions of them, every day, BECAUSE of the love so deep it hurts.

I can't explain the joy I felt when she just, all of a sudden, went to the potty. Like decisions, I get these feelings a million times a day. The sheer joy of witnessing a new milestone, big or small. When she points out an "owl" in a book (how did she know that?) or can name people in our wedding pictures. When she points to our guest room and says "Bubby" because that's where Becky stays when she visits.

There's no possible way to end this post with one single thought that captures these many, many feelings. So I'll just end here. Here are my thoughts on motherhood: the best.

Normal is boring, boring is fabulous

I still remember us holding our breaths, my mom and me, as we waited for the oncologist to enter the room. We knew he or she (I had a team of 4-5 child oncologists at any given moment throughout my Leukemia treatment, whom I saw every day for nearly three years) was carrying the "receipt." The receipt was the quick recap of my blood draw from minutes ago. Every day during my intensive treatment (weekly chemos) I got pricked on the tip of my finger to get my blood drawn. The receipt told us the basics: white blood count, red blood count (hemoglobin) and platelets. If those basics looked OK, or the numbers were where they were supposed to be, I was probably OK. The treatment was working, or I hadn't relapsed. These receipts were what we waited for. The doctor would come in, our hearts pounding, breaths held, until .. "looks good." And then we'd breathe a sigh of relief and continue on.

Celebrating Mike and Denise in Austin, TX! Holly and Paul (top two on the left) are next, also getting married in Austin next April! 

We did this every day for three years together. And then every week. And then every month through high school. And then every year through college. And now, at 30 years old, as a mom and wife with a full-time job, I do it on my own, or with Sean. I get my blood drawn at the lab a few months before seeing my oncologist. And I wait for the "looks good." Or I call. And I wait to hear "looks normal." And I continue on.

The quarterly blood draws now don't have as much weight as those day-to-day receipts did. Do I still hold my breath? Of course. But being 18 years out and having had a blood cancer, I know my body. I don't know everything and I'm not a doctor, but I like to believe I don't put all my weight on these draws, that I put most of it on knowing my body and keeping up with my doctor's appointments. These draws aren't so scary when I'm seeing docs every few months and getting MRIs. They're not so scary when, as a full-time working mother of a toddler, I would be able to recognize if I wasn't OK. Or as a runner or cyclist or yogi, I'd be able to recognize if I couldn't get through my workout.
But I still hold my breath. That will never change.

Denise and Mike's wedding, 11/21 in Austin, TX

Today I made the call to get results from my latest draw. All normal. And Nov. 11's MRI was also normal. I held my breath. And then I thanked G-d and continued to breathe.
Next month I head to the NIH for my annual clinic: full body MRI, brain MRI, physical exam and blood draw. 

I know, right? ;)

For now I'm breathing. At the risk of sounding too cliche as Thanksgiving approaches, I am so thankful for a normal breast MRI and normal blood work.
Normal, my friends, may be boring, but in some cases, we want boring. We want it so badly. And when we get it, it's glorious!

Playing Noah's Ark with Adele before bedtime. This was the evening after my breast MRI. Hours earlier I'd called to get the report, which was "normal." :) I celebrated by snuggling with my pumpkin that night.

Toddler time and 11/11

I started and re-started this post a bunch of times, mostly because I either ran out of time to write or couldn't adequately capture my feelings. It's still choppy and messy, but that's what Pink and Pearls is all about. Here we go:

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.

Tour de Pink 2015!

Just a quick update: Team Pink and Pearls completed Tour de Pink 2015 and raised nearly $28,000 for the Young Survival Coalition! My personal total as of today (more donations will be coming in from the fundraisers) is $6,155!!!! (More than I raised in 2013).

AND! I completed my first century (100 miles!) on day 2. I took it easy the rest of the weekend, riding only the first 20 (hilly) miles on day 1, and about 30 on day 3. Team Pink and Pearls crossed the finish line together at Rehoboth Beach, DE, early in the day this past Sunday. We were greeted by both sets of parents (Mom Ruth + Lloyd, Becky + Jeff) and little Adele, who wore a tutu and cheered and danced when we rode in!

I will update more later, as it's been a whirlwind (as usual), but I want to say I am so very grateful to have completed this ride a second time, and I am so blessed to have ridden with Team Pink and Pearls - Sean, Dan, Julie, Rob, Sarah, Maddi and Bob - you guys are all amazing and rock stars and I love you!

Tour de Pink 2015 was so rewarding in so many ways. I got to ride with so many of my friends I rode with in 2013 (Evan, Lauren, Ishiuan, Laurie, Team Why We Ride, Team I Ride 4 Her) and met SO many new friends, like the lovely ladies of Team Unicorn, Barbie, Erin, etc. We got to meet the Nickerson twins, whom I had fallen in love with via Facebook. (pics below). It was such an incredible weekend to be surrounded by so many friends and family. The YSC community is so big but so small. The inspiration, the passion, it was all there, exactly how I remember from 2013. People cheering us on, lots of hugs and kisses and crying and smiles. Lots of "you're doing great" and "keep up the good work" and lots of high-fives and "whoop whoops!" I wish I could write more, but for now I'll just post some pics. AGAIN, I AM SO GRATEFUL I COULD ACCOMPLISH THIS CHALLENGE AGAIN.

I also want to recognize one woman who rode last year but who was not with us this year. We miss you, Kara. And also all the women (Ish, Tiffany) who rode this year and are living with metastatic breast cancer. YOU are my inspiration. I ride for YOU.

I wish I could put into words what the Tour de Pink and YSC community means to me. I really wish I could. There is just such a strong love there, that forms in the very beginning, based on absolutely nothing except we're all there together. In 2013 I didn't know anyone I rode with. But within minutes those people changed my life and continue to change my life today. We became a family. Sharing baby pictures, updating each other on our lives, counting down til the next YSC summit or Tour de Pink. That love forms so quickly. There is something unspoken. It can't be explained, only felt. It's crazy to say I feel so much love and connection for so many people (200!) at the same time, in different ways, yet in all the same ways. I really wish I could put it into words what this community and organization has done for me. The men and women who ride. I wish I could. Just, for now, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. For touching my life. For being in my life. For loving me, for loving Adele, for loving Team Pink and Pearls. And to Team Pink and Pearls: thank you for riding with me. That sentence has more depth than it seems. You rode with me and you rode for me. Thank you. (Finish line/beach photos by Lloyd Wolf)

Photo by Lloyd Wolf: Adele at the finish in Rehoboth Beach!

Photo by Lloyd Wolf

Adele with her grandmas!

Friday night dinner: all the survivors who received Liv/Giant bikes!

Crossing the finish line! (Does this pic look familiar to 2013? Yep, same wings and same jersey!)

I did it! Rehoboth Beach for the win!

Lauren and I, and pickles. 

Crossing the finish line with Team Pink and Pearls! That's Maddi up front in the yellow.

Lauren! This woman encouraged me to ride 90 miles in 2013 and 100 in 2015. I love you, Lauren! 

Team Pink and Pearls! From left, Rob, Sarah, Bob, Maddi, Sean, myself, Dan and Julie

Tour de Pink babies! Adele meeting Tessa and Gracie, Jamie and Kevin's gorgeous twin daughters!

FLYING! Picture by Christine Malloy's GoPro!

oh my gosh this moment --- finishing 100 miles on day 2 with Evan, who rode with me pretty much the whole day! He stopped when I wanted to stop and encouraged me to keep it up. This man is amazing. There are no words for Evan!!!!! 

Day 2, first rest stop. Showing off my Tour de Pink tattoo as I mentally prepared myself to ride a century

Final day outfit! Same wings I was given on day 3 in 2013 by Sue, who encouraged me to "fly" and I did! Also my 2013 jersey. Bringing it back, full circle. Wings in 2013 and wings in 2015 to cross the finish line. 

My ID for the weekend. I love it because it has our team name!

"It's yours to take"

"It's yours to take"

Those were the words my instructor Chuck spoke during last night's cycling class, my last class before Tour de Pink. We leave Thursday for Philly, and the ride begins on Friday outside of Frazer, PA. We end, on Sunday, in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware. (YOU CAN DONATE TO MY RIDE HERE!) As many of you know, in my first ride in 2013 I did every single mile. Last year, Julie, Dan, Sean and Daniel formed Team Pink and Pearls, named after this very blog, and rode in my honor and in the honor of all other young women fighting, and those who have lost their battles. I didn't ride last year. I decided I need to care for Adele that weekend, then only 4 months old.

Brandon and Adele at the park!

This year I'm riding. For many reasons. First, Adele is older and she'll be watched after by Becky and Jeff throughout the weekend. Secondly, I'll be, for the first time, riding with Sean. A wife-husband opportunity that doesn't come along too often. Thirdly, I'll be riding with a team of 7 other of my close family and friends. Fourthly, I don't plan to ride the whole 250+ miles. I did it once. I proved to myself what I needed to. And now, this year, this coming weekend, I'll do my best, I'll have fun, I'll see my YSC friends and sisters, and I'll SAG out if and when I need to. I'll ENJOY it. It doesn't mean I'm not nervous and it doesn't mean I am not highly anticipating every single thing. I've personally raised more than $6,000 which is more than I raised in 2013. 

If you've been following (pretty religiously) this blog, you'll know much of it focuses (ok, maybe MOST of it) focuses on healing after breast cancer. life after breast cancer. living, LIVING life as a breast cancer survivor, and navigating life as a LFS patient, full-time working mom, wife, etc. So much of it has been about healing, finding myself, healing, getting it all back, proving to myself. Tour de Pink. Those 5Ks and Dirty Girl Mud Run. That half-marathon. 

Playing at Old Main lawn before the Penn State game

When I did Tour de Pink in 2013, there was no doubt that that ride was for me. For me to take my body back. For me to support women like myself. For me to prove I could do it. For me to prove to myself breast cancer didn't take a damn thing. For me to put my face on a challenge that personally meant something to me. For me to have a story to tell. For me to make my mark in a world unknown until then. For me to become part of something bigger than myself, to get the support I needed, for myself. 

This year when I ride I'll ride for fun and friends and the cause. I'll ride alongside two of my best friends in the world, Sean and Julie. 

team jerseys!

When Chuck said those words (there are often many wonderful, inspirational phrases uttered by my instructors in cycling, yoga, TRX, etc.), I bowed my head down like I always do, and I pushed my thighs through hard resistance. I focused on my breathing. This, here, was the height of this particular drill. This is when I use every ounce of energy, tell myself THIS IS MINE TO TAKE, and push. This is when, though steady on a stationary bike, I close my eyes and envision the finish line. But as soon as I closed my eyes, a switch went off. Yes, it's mine to take. But right here, right now, I've already taken it.

Healing, finding myself, proving myself. 

Rosh Hashanah 2015

I needed cycling and running to do it once, but I don't need that anymore. I already have it.

Isn't healing after breast cancer starting a family and working at a job you love and being a mom and raising money for causes you believe in through speaking at events and participating in the community?

It's mine to take, and I took it.

Enjoying the last few days of summer :)

Maybe a few years ago I first needed the physical challenges to take back what I thought I lost. But as I closed my eyes during that challenge last night, I thought to myself, AHHHH I already have it. I already took it.

No matter how well I do this weekend. No matter if I do 12 more half-marathons or zero more half-marathons. I already have it.

Sarah, myself and Maddi at our Gigi's fundraiser Oct. 1. (3/8 of Team Pink and Pearls!)

During a tough physical challenge, whether a bike ride or race or difficult yoga pose, that's when I reach deep inside and tell myself this, whatever THIS is, is mine to take. My body is mine to own, and that I can do anything I believe I can do. And I power through, sweaty and happy and proud and in control.

And last night, yes - I did push and I will always push - last night I realized I already have that thing I'm looking for.

That's not to say you are ever REALLY healed, or ever REALLY "move on" or "get over" breast cancer. You don't. YOU DON'T. And if I'm being honest, I don't know if you ever really figure out how to navigate life after cancer, after multiple cancers, and while living with LFS.

Celebrating Emily's birthday in October!

However, I do know, right now, that whatever it was that was mine to take, I took it. I took it. I have it.

I have a husband, loving family, beautiful daughter, amazing, supportive friends, a phenomenal community near and far, a job I love, and I continue to be involved in efforts important to me - the PA Breast Cancer Coalition, PA Pink Zone and the YSC. 

Emily <3

My life and my life's work IS my healing. 

It doesn't necessarily stop. And it's definitely never done. But this is what it looks like.