My daughter plays soccer in a tutu

At two years old plus some change, I am so proud of Adele. She's strong and independent. She has so many interests, including singing, dancing, coloring, riding her tricycle, playing ball, running through the sprinkler, swimming, the list goes on and on. Often people ask me if she's a "girly girl" or more of a "boy." Of course I don't believe in gender stereotypes, and Sean and I encourage play no matter what its associated gender may be.

Giggling with Claire in the park!

But to answer the question more or less, Adele is the best of both worlds: she is girly and a tomboy. She loves trucks (especially diggers and fire trucks) and soccer and football, but also loves wearing her tutu and trying on my bracelets. She loves to wear pink and asks me to paint her "toenails" (which means fingernails). She loves taking care of her dollies but also running around in the dirt and playing in the sandbox. She loves climbing the jungle gym at the park, but also loves picking out bows to wear in her hair. She loves wearing her "flies" - her fairy wings, but loves running around with the big kids. She's truly her own person. Her interests are her own. There is no gender to them. Trucks and tutus, it's all Adele.

Swimming with Andrew!

Being a mother consistently becomes more and more rewarding, as I see Adele continue to flourish, not with just her learning of new words and tasks, and gross and fine motor skills, but as she grows into her own person. If I were to name all of her interests and write down everything she loves, it would take pages and pages and more words than I could count. Her passions are endless.

As my primary role is Mommy, and as my Mommy hat is my main hat, my world revolves around Adele's growth and health. Every day I am planning her meals and snacks, packing for her next trip, doing her laundry, setting out her clothes for the week, tidying up her bookshelf, organizing her crayons and coloring books, and planning developmental activities to enhance her learning and skills (just this past weekend I drew an alphabet hop scotch on the sidewalk with chalk, so Adele could practice her balance and letters by jumping from one letter to the other). I'm also preparing for her milestones, as she continues to learn how to use the potty, wash her hands, put on and take off her clothes, etc. I'm giving her more tasks, such as clearing her plate off the table and helping me with the laundry.

Swinging with the big girls! We had an awesome time at the Dubler's BBQ!

But tonight I'm going to yoga, after a few months' hiatus (yikes!) because I know as much as I'm tired and love resting after work, it's good for me to stretch out and work on my muscles. Since my last Tour de Pink I've put away the bike for now and been doing yoga and TRX. No matter what, even if I can't make it to an exercise class, I fit exercise into my daily routine, whether it's a 45 minute walk around campus during my lunch break, or lifting weights in my room. Plus, chasing after Adele - a 28 pound toddler, keeps me active pretty much every second of the day. I know staying active is important. It's important as a cancer survivor, and also as a mommy. The best way to be a good mommy is to take care of myself. Adele is my world. In order for me to give her the world, I have to make sure I'm good - healthy, happy, rested - in it.

Each day I'm continued to be amazed at how wonderful this role is, and how me and Sean work together as a team. How we are raising our family. How we are planning for the future. I hope, through practice and patience, it becomes easier to push the breast cancer in the back, and only think about LFS when I'm getting a scan or visiting the doctor. I've given plenty of time and energy to the breast cancer and to cancer in general. It's time for that to take a back seat. Worrying about what may or may not happen is a waste of time and an energy-sucker. Like I wrote in my last post, we have to live like I'm healthy, because as much as it's hard for me to believe, I AM healthy.

July 4 style

Will I accept that fully? Maybe. Maybe not. But to live the best in my own world I have to practice believing it. To give my world to my daughter and to our family. It's scary to live like I'm healthy. With YSC sisters dying and getting cancer again, it's scary to live like I am healthy, because if I let the breast cancer slide too far back in my mind, I fear it could sneak back in. But I must remember, and this is something I learn through therapy, that worrying about cancer doesn't "prepare" me, if it were to happen again. It just takes my energy.

Piggy back rides and fairy wings!

If I were to look at believing I'm healthy like a big comfy chair, then it is something I need to fully sit in. Right now, and for the past five years, I've been on the edge of the chair, the edge of the seat. I am allowed to sit in it now. And it would be in my best interest to do so.

(Above: photos from July 4 weekend 2016)

It's OK to hang up a hat

I wear many hats. First and foremost I am a wife and mother; Sean and Adele are the most important people to me in this whole world - and Campbell the most important canine. I'm also a writer, a friend, a sister, a daughter, a breast cancer survivor and advocate, and a LFS patient and advocate. 

I take all of these hats seriously. There is not a single hat I don't wear all the time. Every day I'm a mother and a wife. Every day I go into work, eight hours a day, 40 hours a week, and I'm a writer. As a friend I maintain new and lifelong relationships; I plan outings and events and parties; I stay in touch and support friends who are having happy times (weddings and babies) and friends who are having tough times (illnesses and tragedies). I like to believe (and I hope I am) the best friend I can possibly be for the people who mean the most to me in this whole world. I hope I am giving back the love and care that I've been shown, especially at some of the hardest and also happiest moments in my life.

Making Sean a chalk picture for Father's Day

Adele at Molly's 1st birthday party

I'm also a sister and daughter: my brother and my mom are also most important to me in this whole world, along with my in-laws and my other siblings - Julie and Seth, and their spouses, partners and children. I work hard to maintain valuable relationships with my family - immediate and extended - as their love and support carries us through life.

As a breast cancer survivor and advocate, I share my experiences with breast cancer, while also being able to say I've come through the disease. Through my advocacy I am involved with the Young Survival Coalition, PA Breast Cancer Coalition and Pink Zone, plus countless friends I've made over the years through this outreach. I am, every single day, by looking in the mirror and feeling pain in my back and chest, reminded I am a survivor. And every single day I am involved with the breast cancer world. 

Harper and Adele sharing a picnic at the park

Adele and Claire playing at Molly's birthday party

Adele and Brandon on the slide

Since Ishiuan's death in March, we've lost two other breast cancer sisters: Sarita two weeks ago, and Rachel this week. And in addition to these tragic deaths, almost every day I learn of other breast cancer sisters who have become metastatic or developed a second cancer. Breast cancer surrounds me. It's the world I'm in. I've met hundreds of women through the YSC and its events - Summit and Tour de Pink. I'm a a student adviser for the Pink Zone organization at Penn State. I'm the face of Centre County for the PA Breast Cancer Coalition's traveling photo exhibit, which features one woman from each county in the state that has been touched by breast cancer. I have spoken at countless events. This very blog is my story. I am IN IT. All the time. And while most of the time it is rewarding, it can also be hard. Very hard.

The young women I've met through the YSC are an extension of me. Their story is my story. They are young and vibrant. Many of them working full time, and many of them mothers. All of them energetic and passionate. And when some of them pass away, a little piece of me dies too. Because I see these women and I think of myself. That's how and why I got involved with the YSC in the first place - to meet other women LIKE MYSELF. To find support from women LIKE ME. Who are dealing with the same issues I am dealing with, or dealt with. 

Adele tries out the waterslide!

Ready for the pool!

At the pool! :)

Though I am five years out, the breast cancer never goes away. Like I said, I am reminded of its impact on me every day. Through looking in the mirror at my scars, putting on a bathing suit, the pain in my back and neck from my implants, the pain of my implants - it's always there. But when a sister dies, it's there even more. And sometimes I need to take a step back.

I always live for the future, even after facing cancer twice. Although sometimes I am afraid of getting sick again, Sean and I make commitments. (house, dog, jobs, baby). We plan for the future. We live like I'm healthy. Because I am. I AM healthy. We don't live like I'm going to get sick. Because that's no way to live.

But when a sister dies, the fear comes back.

A fear that's, literally, quite always there.

Graduation party fun

Father's Day brunch

Sometimes I need to put forth more effort to focus on today and the future: our lives today and enjoying the special moments with Adele. It's OK for me not to be an advocate all the time. Yes, my survivors' guilt kicks in and I feel the need to mourn for these women. I feel the need to share their stories because of the grief I feel; I want to release it into the world because it is too much for me to carry on my own.

Celebrating Molly's birthday!

Going for a walk

Sally came to visit from Chicago, continuing our annual tradition!

Tara's bridal shower!

And that's OK. I can mourn. But the best way to honor these women is to LIVE. I have, right here in front of me, the very life I've always wished for and dreamed of. I am a mom and a wife. I have a beautiful family and beautiful friends and a beautiful house and a job that I love. And my husband is my biggest supporter. We are the best team I could have ever hoped for. So I must live it. Maybe live it a little bit more, with a little less hats.

I'm going to put my advocacy hat on the shelf for now, to focus more on my mommy and wife hat. My life is now and I must continue to live it. It doesn't mean I can't mourn these sisters; it simply means I must also carry on. For their wish, after all, was to do the same.

Karishma's bridal shower!

Adele's Minnie Mouse Bowtique 2nd birthday party was a huge success!

This summer has brought, and will bring, the most amazing moments and events. We've had birthday parties and bridal showers. More travel is coming up. Adele has been swimming at the pool and riding her tricycle and drawing with chalk and tending to her flowers. We are outside at the pool or in the park. We're having BBQs with friends. We're celebrating weddings and babies. Just how I LOVE summer to be, we're busy as bees, and I'm loving every minute of our sand-filled, sun-kissed lives.

My mom hat is one of the best. It's one of my favorite hats. (Ok, it's my favorite hat?)

And I need to keep it maintained, and clean, and energetic. I love wearing it. I wear it proudly. It's a huge part of who I am. (Ok, my favorite part?). This needs to be my primary hat, as it's been since Adele was born. 

Adele's 2nd birthday party

I'm going to take a step back from my advocacy work and focus on now and the future. Focus on my family hats. For today and the future. Because I know the future is bright, and I'll need my mommy hat more than ever. 

To Adele's birth mom on her birthday

Adele turns TWO today, and it is such a wonderful, blessed day! We are so lucky to have reached this milestone. Our sweet little princess is growing into such a smart, funny, loving little lady. I love her kisses and hugs, and when she wraps her arms around my neck I feel like I am dancing among the clouds; the feeling is like no other. It is pure, deep, love. The kind that cannot be explained. Only felt. Those little arms. Those smooshy cheeks. Every day with Adele is a miracle. Watching her grow lights my soul. My heart grows with her heart. 

As Adele is getting older, we have been working to incorporate her adoption story into regular, normal conversation. It's never been hidden, and adoption experts and our agency encourage regular speaking about the child's adoption journey starting at birth. The child will not understand it right away, but it will be part of regular conversation. Little pieces and parts of the story will be learned in time. And when Adele asks questions we'll answer. Our family is of the belief that Adele's adoption is a blessing, and something to be cherished. A story to be told. We want her to be proud of where she comes from. We want her to ask questions. We want her to understand her birth mommy loved her so much that she wanted to choose special people to take care of her. So that's where we came in.

The birthday girl! Adele on her 2nd birthday, April 26, 2016!

We have adoptions books that we read, and I incorporate a little of Adele's story into the book if it lines up and makes sense. Her dollies have all different skin colors. She knows she has darker skin than mommy and daddy, but doesn't understand why or what it means. And she doesn't need to. 

I always knew adoption talk would just float in when appropriate, just completely natural. It's not something you can plan; the discussion should just happen naturally. And questions should be answered as age-appropriate.

This morning as I was changing Adele's diaper (after singing Happy Birthday to her and giving her lots of kisses and tickles), I explained to her what her birthday meant. I told her she was born on this day two years ago to her beautiful birth mommy (and I used her name.) I said her birth mommy loved Adele so much that she chose Mommy and Daddy to take care of her.

Adele's eyes brightened and she looked into mine, and repeated her birth mom's name. My eyes filled with tears, and my heart filled with joy. I said yes, smiling and reassuring her. 

There are so many circumstances beyond our control with Adele's adoption journey. But the one thing we can control is how we honor Adele's birth mom by talking about her and sharing Adele's adoption journey openly and honestly, and with pride. 

Today, on Adele's birthday, we honor her birth mom for her bravery, and for what was probably the hardest thing she's ever done in her life.

We honor her strength and her compassion. We honor the beautiful baby she brought into this world, the one we've vowed to love and cherish for all eternity. 

Love and juice

In the midst of juice boxes and Mickey Mouse and stickers and boo-boo pops, the world stands still. Outside is the fast-paced blur and buzz of mommyhoood and toddlerhood. But inside it's just us - our family. Me and Adele, nose to nose, snuggling before bed. Me stroking her hair. "Goodnight sweetheart, Mommy and Daddy love you so much. Sleep tight."

She sings to herself quietly, usually "Baa Baa Black Sheep," as she drifts off to sleep. And in the morning when she wakes, she reads or sings quietly to herself in her crib. (She has been requesting to sleep with her favorite books, which I let her do, so in the morning she can read to herself before I come in.)

Our lives are busy and hectic. I have back pain and eyelid twitches. We have work and travel, weddings and bridal showers, parties and playdates. Trips to the library, trips to the park. We're ordering pizza and eating it in the living room while watching Dinosaur Train. I'm gulping coffee in the morning while putting on eyeliner while talking to Adele while planning out the day and the week with Sean. We're talking about friends and plans and funny stories. (I tell him how Campbell farted near my face while I was laying on him the other night.)

Our world and our lives are so perfectly chaotic and so perfectly blessed.

When it's me and Adele the world outside stands still. She's speaking in full sentences now, and just last night said "I love you" for the first time to me. Those doors to my heart chambers keep opening. One more opened last night when she said those words. Each day she continues to unlock new doors to new places in my heart, each one touching a special part of my soul. 

She's almost 2 and she has all new hobbies and opinions. She's always drawing. All the time. She carries around notebooks at home, scribbling with her pen. And at school each day makes new drawings of her doodles. I welcome and embrace and cultivate her creativity and expressions. 

In our busy swirl of both working full time and raising a toddler (and Campbell, who is very much like a toddler), I often feel "mommy guilt" that I'm not doing enough. Adele doesn't always brush her teeth before bed. She doesn't always eat the healthiest dinners. She doesn't always eat her fruit (and almost never eats her veggies.) Sometimes she goes to bed with food in her hair. (Not huge chunks, but little crumbs I can't get out.) I buy the cookies for the school parties instead of baking them myself. I don't always fold the laundry. I don't always make dinner. And I don't always make the healthiest dinner, when I DO make dinner. Sometimes I let Teddy Grahams slip into the shopping cart. Sometimes Adele eats dessert before dinner. Sometimes I let her nails get too long. 

But we always sing in the car. We eat dinner together. We snuggle. I encourage her learning and growing and expression. I help her "feed" her dollies and explore her world. We talk about the moon and the sun, and which types of trucks do what jobs. We talk about different animals and the sounds they make. She knows her shapes and colors and likes to pick out her clothes. She likes to wear my jewelry and carry around purses, but at the same time loves sports and dinosaurs and throwing the ball. She loves to run around and get messy and dirty, but also loves walking around in my high heels and picking out bows for her hair. I love all parts of her personality - the fun, energetic, active sporty girl, who is also gentle, when she tucks her dollies in at night and kisses her stuffed animals on the nose. 

I look forward to our chaotic Saturday and Sunday mornings, where I'm making scrambled eggs in the kitchen and Adele is drawing or playing with stickers or sorting Tupperware in her PJs. I'm taking sips of coffee while juggling the spatula while tending to the never-ending needs of a toddler.

For example, there are so many requests for juice.

"Adele, you only get one juice a day," I tell her. "You've already had your juice for today."

"Ok, Mommy." 

(0.2 seconds later)

"I want the pink juice!"

Letting go of a false sense of control and of high expectations for myself is scary, but it's also liberating. And it's not something I learned how to do overnight; it takes practice and patience. But being a mom has certainly helped me get there. 

I am at peace, even with the parts of myself I think I need to change or improve. I'm not perfect, and I'm OK with that. Actually, I'm GREAT with that. I'm at peace with that. 

Being at peace doesn't mean giving in, it means letting go. Letting go of the need for control, of the high expectations. And just allowing myself to do what I do naturally: love. And love, and love, and love. 

A blog post for Ishiuan

Ishiuan passed away on March 19. I had just emailed with her last week. I'll always cherish those emails. The last thing she said in her email was how beautiful Adele is, and how the world finds ways to bring people together so they can change each other's lives. That is true. Ish changed every life she touched. May her memory be but a blessing. 

May she be at peace. May her family find comfort and strength. It's hard to find the words today, so I'll let some others do the talking:

Ishiuan Ku Hargrove

December 29, 1973 — March 19, 2016

Taken from her obituary:

After a ten-year struggle with breast cancer, Ishiuan Hargrove passed away at home, surrounded by her loving family. Ishiuan was born in Luodong, Taiwan and arrived in Augusta, Georgia at age sixteen. She attended Mercer University in Macon, Georgia, double-majoring in math and physics. Graduating magna cum laude in 1997, she later earned a master's degree in medical physics in 1999 from the Emory University School of Medicine.

A tireless advocate for advances in treatments for cancer patients, she devoted her time and energy to supporting cancer research, fund raising, and raising public awareness of breast cancer.

In 2007, Ishiuan joined a group of breast cancer survivors biking throughout Taiwan to educate patients about survivability and to remove societal stigmas against cancer. 

More recently, she volunteered for Young Survival Coalition (YSC) as Florida state leader, participating in annual team biking events to raise money for people diagnosed with breast cancer under the age of 35. She also worked with the U.S. Department of Defense, selecting breast cancer research projects for federal funding.

Ishiuan loved and inspired her many friends. She has long been admired by friends and family for her drive, resilience, and continued positive outlook in the face of her illness.
You can see her obituary online here.

In lieu of flowers, memorials may be sent to YSC south.ysctourdepink.org/Hargrove 

From Pablo Colon, friend and co-captain of team I RIDE 4 HER, reprinted with his permission:

"My heart is breaking as I write this, my dear friend & co-captain of Team I RIDE 4 HER Ishiuan passed away peacefully yesterday at her "Utopia" aka her home. The impact she had on those around her was legendary. Ishiuan was a force of nature and I can't really put to words how much she will be missed.

Some will say "She lost her battle with breast cancer." I won't. If you knew Ishiuan, you know she didn't lose anything. She won. She won with every extra day/week/month/year she got to spend with Adam and her boys. She won every time she got on that bike that she loved so much and she rode 200 miles in the YSC Tour de Pink East Coast and then went back to Florida and chemo. She won when she went to New York City for brain surgery and instead of taking cab she rode a Citibike to the hospital. She didn't lose a battle. She went to war and she beat the hell out of cancer with the spirit of a warrior who would never quit. She beat cancer by living her life to the fullest every day, inspiring those around her and advocating in Washington and nationally for other young metastatic women. She beat cancer by not letting it dictate what she could or couldn't do or achieve. She beat cancer by living life on her terms. 

I got to spend a few hours with her this past Tuesday and it was a blessing and a gift to be able to share that time with her. We talked about the beginning of our little team of riders and what it had become and how it would grow. She asked me to ride in her place in the upcoming TdP South ride and generally gave me a homework list of things she wanted me to do. If you knew her you know this isn't surprising. She was also still ever the advocate. "This is the reality of breast cancer, Pablo. I'm doing this for Erin and Dalia" she said, after we posted a picture to facebook. When I told her she'd she'd always be with us. She smiled and said "I'll be riding in the clouds on top of you guys."

In lieu of flowers, you can donate to the Young Survival Coalition using Ishiuan's YSC Tour de Pink South page.  south.ysctourdepink.org/hargrove"

Rest easy, my dear, dear friend. Thank you for touching my life and sweetening my soul. I can take comfort in knowing you'll always be with us, in the clouds on your bike, and in our hearts. 

Love, you're not alone; I'm gonna stand by you. (A message from Sean)

Dear friends and family,

Almost five years ago, the life that Marjorie and I had been living was changed in an instant. Who would have thought that a simple phone call would have a tremendous impact in the way it did. Thoughts of wedding planning and dresses were all of a sudden replaced with questions about life and death.

At the time, we thought Marjie was alone, since she was only 26 when diagnosed with breast cancer; the truth is she was not. There is a whole community of young women and their significant others who have had the same questions, concerns and nightmares that Marjorie and I had. We now know we are not alone and that is because of the Young Survival Coalition.

The Young Survival Coalition (YSC) is the premier organization dedicated to the critical issues unique to young women who are diagnosed with breast cancer. YSC offers resources, connections and outreach so women and their co-survivors feel supported, empowered and hopeful.

Marjie and I knew we never wanted any women to feel alone during this time. So we made a commitment to support YSC. This is why I am once again riding in YSC’s Tour de Pink (TdP). TdP is a three-day bicycle ride of over 200 miles to raise money for young women diagnosed with and battling breast cancer. The funds are crucial because they support outreach efforts and research specific to young women and breast cancer.

I need your help. Please support me in my efforts to honor Marjie and all young women with a gift today. Please visit https://east.ysctourdepink.org/SeanMiller.

I thank you in advance for your support and truly appreciate your generosity!

Sean Miller

What is a breast friend? A recap of YSC Summit 2016

"We were just normal girls, doing normal girl things."

That sentence perfectly captures one big part of the 2016 YSC Summit, this past weekend in Atlanta, Georgia. And those aren't my words. They are part of a very long and very powerful post by my friend and fellow survivor sister Jenna.

This is a post I didn't want to write. I don't have the words. Or, rather, I didn't have the words. But I do now. And they may be jumbled. But I've held off writing this post for long enough. It's time.

What a fun-filled, educational, inspiring weekend! 

This past weekend was my second YSC Summit. Even if I tried I could never find the words to adequately describe what it's like to spend an entire weekend with more than 600 other young women who have been diagnosed with breast cancer. In between educational sessions about genetics and cancer and intimacy, we were taking photos, sipping coffee, talking about our fake breasts and nipple reconstruction. There was yoga and Zumba and Crossfit. There was a sex toy party. Because the YSC gets it. They GET it. Sex is an issue during and after breast cancer. It needs to be addressed. 

And they addressed metastatic breast cancer, Stage 4 breast cancer, which has NO cure. The women I know and love with Stage 4 cancer are on chemotherapy and radiation, and are undergoing surgery, INDEFINITELY. There is no cure. Stage 4 breast cancer kills. 

And they addressed co-survivors: the husbands, wives, partners, friends, sisters and brothers who attended summit alongside the survivors. Because they need support, too. They need to talk about their partners who no longer feel sexy in a bathing suit or who no longer have a sex drive because they are going through medicine-induced menopause. They have watched their partners suffer, or continue to watch them suffer. They need other co-survivors to talk to. The YSC gets that, too.

My favorite picture! My "breasties" as we call ourselves, at 2015 summit (bottom) and 2016 summit. From left, Lynn, Abby, me and Nicole. Abby also has Li Fraumeni Syndrome. 

And the YSC gets, most of all, that, as Jenna said, WE ARE ALSO JUST GIRLS. Ok, we're young women. We're single or married. We have young kids or we're struggling with infertility or adoption. We want to talk about bras and sex and wine and yoga and shopping. We want to take selfies all day. We want to dress up and wear lipstick and dance the night away at a Hotlanta dance party. The YSC gets that. That's what it did for us this past weekend.

It did ALL of it. 

The summit addressed our biggest fears, biggest questions, biggest concerns. It let us ask questions anonymously through an app on our phones so nobody had to know who it was asking about sex after hysterectomy, or why insurance doesn't cover genetic testing, or what options are available for breast reconstruction, or what to do if a best friend deserts you after diagnosis? We got to ask all of that. Both anonymously, and in private group settings.

We learned about genetic testing of tumors. Yes, TUMORS. Genetic testing of tumors to specifically target and treat the type of mutation found in the tumor. Precision medicine. 

We talked and learned about sex and intimacy; how to communicate with your partners and loved ones; fertility and family planning; the state of young women and breast cancer; and what today's top researchers are doing about it. Representatives from Dana Farber and the NCI were there. Sex education professionals. A professional chef who specializes in meals for cancer patients. Book authors. And vendors. Oh, the vendors! Different organizations, nonprofits and resources from around the country were present, giving out free items (sports bras) and educational materials. 

All of the information was helpful, was relevant, was timely. I connected with friends I met at last year's summit, as well as my Tour de Pink brothers and sisters. And I also made about 200 new friends.

But one friend in particular wasn't there. Ishiuan. Ish has been fighting metastatic breast cancer, and was recently admitted into hospice. She was at last year's summit, rode in 2015 Tour de Pink, and was training for 2016 Tour de Pink. 

Drinking our yummy organic cold-pressed green juice!

Two winters ago - I remember it well as we were in Florida for winter break and checking our phones every few minutes to see if she was out of surgery - she had brain surgery to remove tumors from her brain. Just recently she underwent many more surgeries, as the cancer continues to spread. she has recovered from her open heart surgeries, which paralyzed her vocal chords. 

Ish was the first person I "met" prior to my first Tour de Pink in 2013. We emailed before the ride. I told her how nervous and scared I was. She encouraged me and supported me. We got to know each other through email. And then when I arrived in Philadelphia for registration in September 2013, Ish greeted me with open arms. She took me around the room and introduced me to Jamie, who is now one of my best friends, and Lisa Frank, co-founder of Tour de Pink, who is also currently fighting metastatic breast cancer.

I was asked to be interviewed by SELF magazine for a special video project! 

Tour de Pink 2013 was memorable for me for a LOT of reasons. One of those reasons was Ish. I had never seen someone ride like Ish rides. I saw her pedal up those steep hills - the ones that literally made me nauseated - and I knew I could do it. She smiled and she laughed and she cheered throughout the whole ride. SHE kept me going to finish strong the entire Tour de Pink 2013, and she continued to encourage me throughout the rides that were to come.

Ish welcomed me with open arms in 2013, and since then she has been one of the strongest, most inspirational women I have come to know. 

She was very much missed at summit, along with her husband Adam, who is always by her side. Being at summit is bittersweet in that way: the weekend is inspiring and uplifting. But we're also reminded of what this all means, of the "sisterhood that nobody asked to join." We are connected, we are inspired. But we also are reminded of loss. And of what breast cancer actually does. What it's actually capable of. 

Superhero PJs at the Friday night pajama (sex education) party!

I continue to pray every day for Ish - for her continued strength, for her peace, for her comfort. She is in everything we do. She was in every part of summit. 

We all want to be normal girls, doing normal girl things. That's why summit is so great. Because I can just BE - fake boobs and anxiety issues and all - along with my other girlfriends, who also have fake boobs and similar anxiety issues. The fear of recurrence, the sleepless nights, the having trouble fitting in elsewhere, when friends are talking about breast feeding or getting pregnant. We have each other. For this one weekend a year. We can be normal girls, doing normal girl things.

Breast cancer takes a lot from us. It takes a whole hell of a lot. It takes the body parts were thought we needed, and the people we love. It takes our innocence and changes our plans.

But what it doesn't take is the sisterhood part - the part YSC most frequently speaks about. Breast cancer is not ONE specific disease, and like a snowflake, no two experiences are alike. No matter the age, the stage, the years in or out, the sisterhood is strong. The YSC knows that and the YSC shows that.

I didn't want to join this sisterhood, but because I didn't have a choice, I'm glad the YSC is here. 

My best friend and my biggest supporter! The YSC knows how important co-surviors are, and makes sure they are an important part of summit. 

I'm coming up on five years since my diagnosis. That's been a hot topic for me right now. But what I want you to know is that breast cancer is always there. It may be there in different ways than it was five years ago. 

Maybe, if we're lucky, the disease part fades a little. If we're lucky, we become disease-free. The scars fade a little. We get new breasts, or we don't. The implants settle in, or maybe they don't, and they still hurt. Or in my other survivor friends' cases, who are on hormonal drugs for the next 5 or 10 years, their chemical-induced menopause is a constant reminder of the breast cancer. 

Ishiuan

No matter the story, no matter the journey, the impact of the disease remains.

I think the YSC gets that, too.

It gets that, too.