The year of healing

I haven't blogged in a while - a long while, and every time I think about blogging I get so overwhelmed because it's been so long, so then I push it back and procrastinate because I have too much to say and then it becomes too much MORE to say by delaying the blogging, so I'll just jump right in:

I haven't blogged much, but MUCH has been happening. We've all been doing really well. We've all been happy and healthy, and each day with Adele is such a blessing and a journey; just when I think she can't get more beautiful, more smart, more curious, more active, more compassionate, more sweet, more passionate, more spirited ... I am amazed at how she grows in each of those areas, and millions more, every day. We've started dance class on the weekends and I just adore those special times together. When I'm not at work my life revolves around planning her playdates and next arts and crafts projects, and what books we'll read before bed and which errands she'll accompany me on, and what size leotard she needs for dance class, and when to introduce this and that into her diet and lifestyle.

Our YSC Face 2 Face Support Group in State College on the cover of the Pink Zone issue in January's Town&Gown! From left: Katie, Heather, me. Heather spearheaded the group last year, and I've been honored to help her run it. So far we've had two support group meetings that have been well-attended! The group is an extension of the YSC, so it's near and dear to me, and it provides support for young women with breast cancer where we live. It's so exciting to get this group off the ground! We truly appreciate Town&Gown magazine highlighting our work!

Adele at dance class!

But something else I'm focusing on a lot lately is ME. Not in the ways I was before - with my alone time, or yoga classes or pedicures or book club or ladies' night out. I'm working on things I've been struggling with internally for quite some time that I feel I never got a real handle on:

my anxiety and my pain.

We'll start with my anxiety. Most of you know I've been seeing a psychiatrist since the breast cancer diagnosis, and also since then been off and on Zoloft for depression and anxiety, with me being on it most recently since around Adele's birth. I had been continuing to see Dr. Kelly once or twice a month and it was helping, but I was still having severe anxiety to the point it was interrupting my life. Being worried about things - whatever things, really - actually sucked the joy out of my life. I couldn't live in the moment because my mind was consumed with worries. Day to day worries like being late for work or getting Adele into the car seat would spiral into if I was being a good mother or if her breakfast had too much sugar or her dinner wasn't healthy or if I yelled just a little too much it would affect her growth and development, to meeting work deadlines to getting enough sleep to definitely not getting enough sleep, all the way to cancer and death and accidents. My worrying was consuming my every cell. My being. I've always had anxiety and I've always had worries. It's part of who I am. I remember anxiety being a part of my life since I was a kid. As life happened - the breast cancer, getting married, surgeries, the LFS diagnosis, becoming a mom - my anxiety increased naturally and I began bigger steps to deal with it - therapy and medication.

Pep Rally in Los Angeles for Penn State in the Rose Bowl!

Visiting the children's museum in Tucson during winter break

Family New Year's Eve pic in the hotel room in Los Angeles! We had a quiet night of watching TV and coloring in the hotel. It was the PERFECT new year's after a 6 hour car ride from Phoenix, Arizona earlier that day!

But somewhere along the way the anxiety became too big. It had spiraled back out of control. I was getting panic attacks out of nowhere. Instead of the anxiety being a little thing in the back of my mind it was a giant blue marble, front and center of my brain, sucking the joy out of work and motherhood and time with friends and family. I decided I wasn't where I wanted to be with my therapy. I decided this wasn't the life I wanted to live, that I was better than this. That, sure, I have anxiety, and previously I told myself "oh well," this is how I'll live. But no more.

So I started cognitive behavioral therapy a few weeks before winter break. I've only had a few sessions but I'm hopeful it will help me to live a more balanced life. I'm keeping daily anxiety journals and documenting my anxiety triggers, and learning to cope with the triggers. I'm hopeful this therapy, in addition to the medication and continuing to see Dr. Kelly, will help me live more of a comfortable life. I'll always have anxiety, but I deserve more than what I was getting. I deserve to live comfortably, the anxiety managed.

Adele last Sunday, sharing her breakfast with Lilly the giraffe :)

Adele and Brandon! We have playtime with friends almost every weekend!

And the pain. The pain in my chest, armpits, thoracic spine, neck and shoulders has been going on since the breast cancer surgeries and is a result of built up scar tissue under my chest wall that extends under my armpits and through my back, affecting my spine and my posture. And in turn, my spine and my posture affect my chest. My implants are heavy. While they don't hurt every second of every day, they do pull and spasm, and hurt when I lift anything - weights, Adele, groceries, or even turn the steering wheel the wrong way.

Before I was just living with the pain, just telling myself to be grateful I was done with surgeries and that my breast cancer was behind me.

But then somewhere along the way, like the anxiety, I decided it wasn't enough, that I was better than this. That I didn't deserve to have such excruciating pain in my back that I was nearly (or actually in) tears by the end of the work day. That caring for my daughter, driving my car, everything caused pain.

After multiple appointments at one physical therapy practice, countless oncologist appointments about the pain, and finally a pain management clinic, I have found a new physical therapy practice that will do myofascial release and other unique techniques to actually break apart all the scar tissue so I can regain motion in my neck and back and chest, hopefully decreasing the pain.

My motion in those areas has been limited, and scrunched and knotted in pain, since 2012. I get that I'll always have some pain - that's what comes with life after cancer, and like the anxiety, I'll always be battling it. But the amount of pain I'm in right now is not acceptable to me. And until I try every option I'm not giving up.

I've already been doing exercise and weight lifting, chiropractic, massage, foam roller every night, working on my posture, etc. But the problem is the scar tissue, which is limiting movement, causing things to lock up and tighten up, resulting in cyclical pain.

My new favorite mug. Bday present for myself via an Etsy gift card Aunt Amy got me!

I shouldn't be in tears. It's time to do something.

So I'm hopeful the new physical therapy solution with the cognitive behavioral therapy, will help relieve me of some of the things that are taking away joy and comfort from my life, and keeping me from living MY best life and being MY best self. It's time to focus on those now.

It's not good enough not to. It's just not.

So with the cognitive behavioral therapy and now the new physical therapy I am calling this the year of healing - of working on my anxiety at another level and of dealing with the pain I feel every day, hopefully bringing it down from a 10 to a 5, or maybe even a 2. Any relief from the anxiety and pain I feel is good. Anything is good. Anything is better than how it has been. I'm just so happy I saw clearly it was time to make some moves for myself.

"Tired as a mother" .... but SO happy! Selfie taken last weekend. Weekends are my favorite because they mean cartoons in bed with Adele, dance class, fun with friends, family movie nights, arts and crafts and large cups of coffee!

We wish our family and friends a happy and healthy new year. Thank you all for your love and blessings. I hope to blog more this year, too, but let's not get too excited :) 

The best tears

It was nearly 9:30 in the evening (past my own bedtime) and I was doing Adele's bedtime routine because Sean was at a work function. I was sitting on the floor of my bathroom, Adele sitting on the toilet, her tiny toes propped on her Minnie Mouse stool, sitting comfortably, quietly, not all at tired. This was her fourth time on the toilet that night during the bedtime routine. Fourth time.

Now, I'm not complaining. Potty training is going very well and Adele tells us when she needs to use the potty, and 90 percent of the time something comes out, even if just a toot.

Well last night, each time we got snuggled comfortably in my bed (before transferring her to her crib) with her special blanket, dolly and the new mermaid "Barbie" we just got that day from the Dollar Store ...

"Mommy, I'm poopy," Adele would say.

Me: you need to use the potty?

Adele: Yes.

Me: Are you sure? (You've just been three times)

I can't remember which two out of the final four times she went, but she did: one pee and one poop. Which, for potty training, is fantastic. Fantastic. But just because we have success in child-rearing doesn't mean we aren't allowed to feel frustration at times. 

But that fourth time I was tired. I was losing my patience. I had been "Mom"-ing since 6 a.m. that morning, like most moms do. Normally this was my time to relax, as Sean usually does bedtime. But I was tired. Stressed. And here we were, on the toilet again, which meant after she was done, there was the wiping, the putting down of the toilet seat, the flushing, the putting on a new diaper, the pulling on the pajama pants, the moving of the stool so Adele could reach the sink, the pumping of the soap, the scrubbing of the hands, the drying of the hands, the fighting about what comes next or who goes where or what goes where. So I started to cry. Right there, during Adele's fourth time on the potty. 

Adele asks, "Mommy, are you sad?" With all sincerity and curiosity. 

I smiled through my tears, remembering what I said next had to be truthful, but also make her feel safe. 

I told her I was tired and that sometimes Mommy cries when she gets tired. I asked her if she ever cries when she gets tired, to which she shook her head "No." And then I told her Mommy is crying also because she's also so happy that little Adele is using the potty like a big girl.

The tears, the little toes on the stool. The motherhood. Me sitting on the bathroom floor. Wiping tushies. Making sure paci doesn't fall into the toilet. Making sure child doesn't fall into the toilet. More wiping tushies. Making sure child's hand doesn't get slammed in the toilet lid. Maneuvering a 30-pound 2-year-old with a mind and agenda of her own, around the bathroom late at night when I've been up since my 6 a.m. coffee and all I want to do is lie silently for a few hours. 

I remember those tears. Whatever they are: happy, sad, tired, stressed.

They are the best tears. The best. 

Blush in the morning

As a woman raising a daughter I have a very important role. I have crucial responsibilities. That’s not to say women raising boys don’t, or men raising girls don’t. We all do. No matter your gender, no matter what gender you're raising. We all have important roles, tasks, responsibilities.

All parents have important roles. But as a mom raising a daughter, I have, and will, continue to make it part of my mission in raising Adele to teach her to love and cherish and respect her body, but also be honest about my, and our realities, when they are age-appropriate. That means one day we will have a discussion about puberty and breasts, and I will explain to her why I don’t have mine, and what I have in their place. Why I got them removed and what it means. We’ll also talk about her realities, such as being a bi-racial Jewish girl, and how she may not always “fit in” with her peers. I’ll teach her to love who she is, to be proud of her heritage and culture, and also be realistic and honest, when the time comes.

Playing with Harper at our ArtsFest BBQ last weekend

Today, our reality is Adele sees me get dressed every morning. She watches TV and eats her breakfast in our bedroom while Sean and I get dressed every morning. She sees me in my bra and underwear, sipping coffee in between putting on bronzer and eyeliner.

Even for a two-year-old, I actively display love and affection for my body and for hers. But she also sees me put on makeup every day. I don’t go to work in my “natural” face; I put on my “makeup” face. Does that go against loving what you look like? Is that contradictory information? She hears me say one thing but then sees me do another. Do I contradict myself by saying we should love what we have, but then also put makeup on each morning? In my opinion, no.

Because it’s my honest reality. I DO love my body and I DO love my face. I think I am beautiful. But I also wear makeup. Because I WANT to. Nobody tells me to. Nobody asks me to. It’s not a job requirement. It’s not a friend requirement. I do it for myself because it makes me feel good about myself. A little eyeliner, some bronzer/blush, maybe some lipstick, and sometimes mascara. Not too much; just enough to emphasize, not HIDE. Emphasize my features. Highlight my eyes because I love them.

Do all women wear makeup? No. Will Adele wear makeup? I don’t know. (I can tell you she won’t before I allow her to!)

Adele knows Mommy puts on makeup. Adele wants to be just like Mommy these days. She wants to eat what I eat, cut her food how I cut my food, drink coffee like Mommy, wear Mommy’s jewelry and shoes, carry and use Mommy’s keys, and now wear Mommy’s makeup.

Sean is out of town today and tomorrow, so this morning it was just me and Adele getting ready. She usually watches as I do my makeup. This morning she wanted to help so I asked her to hold the blush compact while I dipped my brush in it and then put it lightly on my face. “Here and here,” I showed her, pointing to the places on my cheek where the blush goes. “The trick is just a little.”

She wanted to try, so I let her put blush on my face. It was a very intimate moment between us. All she wants is to be like Mommy. She wants to be involved. Be a “big girl.” So when it’s appropriate and safe, I let her. She also helped me put on lipstick this morning, which I don’t always wear. I showed her how to take the cap off, roll the lipstick up, and she put it on my lips. (she didn’t do a bad job!)

These little Mommy-Adele teaching moments aren’t so much about the makeup and being a woman and being a “lady” as they are about bonding. It’s me opening my (to her) untouchable world of “woman stuff,” like makeup and coffee and keys. It’s showing her I am allowing her to be part of this world when it’s appropriate and safe.

And I tell her, as she’s putting blush on my face, “You can’t use makeup until you’re a lot older, a teenager.”

“OK, Mommy,” she says, just so happy to help.

As she gets older she’ll learn and understand more that I put on makeup, but not all women do. That Mommy chooses to, but like what we wear, it is a choice.

Loving who you are, and showing your daughter that, doesn’t mean hiding the makeup or the morning routine. It’s all a part of me.

Wiped out after a fun weekend!

When she asks other “woman” questions, about bras and panties and tushies, I answer as age-appropriate. My mom raised me with honesty. She gave me information as it suited me. Nothing too sudden or too early. I learned what I was supposed to, and when, and how I was supposed to.

Right now as we’re potty training, of course the topics of tushies and poop and privates come up. It’s nothing to hide and nothing to be ashamed of. If I teach her now the appropriate words, I teach her that these body parts are to be taken seriously and to be respected. If I shy away, it shows I am not taking them seriously, and I am not respecting them.

Part of my job as a mom will always be to ensure Adele’s safety, health, security, happiness, etc., for all eternity. But there are many other parts, too, and those parts change as the child grows. As a woman I have a job to raise a girl into a woman. To understand and love her body. A girl that asks questions. A girl that is not afraid to ask questions. For her to look at me with respect and dignity, as I love and cherish my own body. I treat it right through exercise (we do yoga and dance together in the living room), and through what I eat. She sees me eating fruit and vegetables. (Ok, maybe not too many vegetables, but Adele is definitely on the fruit train!)

Playtime with Claire!

I reinforce not too many sweets, or that sweets and juice are fine in moderation. We only have dessert sometimes. We only have treats on special occasions. I am not a crunchy granola organic mommy, but have no problem, and totally respect the moms who are – and who stick to purely organic healthy foods for their little ones. 

I try to make sure the majority of Adele's food is healthy and organic. But sometimes I allow sweets and treats. And sometimes her crackers are made with enriched white flour. And sometimes I am terrified to look at the nutrition label of her ice cream from the ice cream truck. But sweets are in moderation. And I teach her that, too, and also show her. Mommy eats birthday cake sometimes, and will share her ice cream sometimes.

I am so excited for my job as it lays ahead. As Adele grows more and more, the rewards keep coming, in different ways, sometimes surprisingly. (Like when she kissed me for the first time, or the first time she said “I love you.”)

Now she speaks in full sentences, telling me about a card she drew for me in school, and where to display it in the house. And that she doesn’t want monsters to eat her red fruit. Or after dinner, as we’re reading together, she asks, “Is it nighttime?”

“Not yet,” I tell her, as I turn the page to Angelina Ballerina or Minnie Mouse or Chicka Chicka Boom Boom. “One more book and then it’s nighttime.”

Or as I’m dropping her off at school, setting her up with the other kids playing with clay or painting, she asks “You’re going home now?”

“No,” I say, “I’m going to work, but then I’ll come see you after, and we’ll go home and have dinner.”

And all day long I look forward to my evening with her. Whether we’re reading nicely on the couch together or coloring quietly, or if she’s having a tantrum because I put her cookies in the red cup instead of the yellow cup, I look forward to all of it, and try to hold it in so closely. Because what I feel for her is so deep. My love for her is so strong that it scares me, mostly all the time. The love is so deep, so pure. It’s shocking, jarring, if I had to explain it. I love her so much it hurts.

It causes me anxiety, and sometimes it’s hard to cope with the love and responsibility and this large role I have in this little person’s life. And we have so much ahead of us, and I am thrilled thinking about what’s to come.

And we’ll have struggles, of course. And when we address our realities, it won’t be easy. There is her adoption story, and my breast cancer. Some stories are joyful and interesting. And then there are other truths that aren’t fun to talk about, like my LFS and cancer history. But she’ll learn them. Sean and I have her wrapped so tightly in love. She feels safe and sound and secure.

Hello Kitty ice cream from the ice cream truck! We love summer!

Last night as I was getting out of the shower, before I dried my hair, I listened to Sean and Adele in the bedroom connected to the bathroom. When Sean does bedtime, they lay together on the bed. She drinks her milk, they watch politics or Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. And they laugh and talk together.

And I can hear Sean’s love from inside the closed door. And I want to remember this very moment. July 20, in the heat of summer. The sun is setting outside. I am relaxed and clean from my shower.

Sean says to Adele, “We love you so much,” and she giggles and says she loves him.

And in this moment, the bathroom is a mess, my laundry isn’t put away, dinner is still sitting on the table, and this is the first time I’ve washed my hair in (a week?). I want to remember this exact moment. Clothes all over, love in our bedroom, love that fills the house.

We have a beautiful story to tell. We’re living it. And Adele knows it.

What you don't see in the pictures: the messy parts of motherhood

We all know I take a lot of pictures and videos of Adele. I mean, A LOT. Let's face it, she's cute and adorable and beautiful and entertaining. For the most part she's a happy child. She's always singing or dancing or laughing or talking. Just this morning she looked out the window as I was changing her diaper and she said she saw a bunny (there was a bunny). When I asked her about it, she said he hopped away and that he wasn't wearing any shoes. She's smart and also has a great imagination. But, with any toddler, and more importantly, any two-year-old, there is a not-so-pretty side.

We do have tantrums. And we do have messes. Everyone always says motherhood is not for the faint of heart. Ever since we changed Adele's first diaper, poop no longer bothers us. We've caught poop in our hands, and have had poop squirted in our eyes. We've dealt with poop blowouts that have traveled from Adele's tushy to her arm pits. Sean and I talk about Adele's (and Campbell's) poop like it's a regular part of conversation and life, because it is.

And now, with Adele potty training, poop is introduced in whole new ways. Generally she is great on the potty. She tells us when she has to go, and nine times out of ten, she goes. She still wears a diaper, and sometimes prefers to poop in her diaper, but she tells us when she needs to be changed. 

Pooping on the potty sometimes brings additional poop all over the place. There is a slim chance that when she sits on the potty, the poop will go in the potty. Then Adele will wipe herself, pull up her pants and wash her hands. And it's a done deal. But that's rare. Usually there is standing up and sitting down on the toilet while pooping, looking in the toilet, touching her butt, wiping herself and then throwing the toilet paper anywhere else besides in the toilet. And then there is getting her cleaned up with clothes back on and hands washed. A 20 minute ordeal. 30 tops. But she is learning. But with that learning comes poop all over.

Going on a nature walk with Opa Lloyd and Grandma Ruth

And the tantrums are normal and to be expected at this age, as she's inserting her independence and letting us know of her thoughts, feelings and opinions. The general rule is two choices. Always offer two choices to a toddler. No more, no less. Does she want the red cup or the yellow cup? Does she want the Adele spoon or the Elmo spoon? Does she want to carry her backpack, or for Mommy to carry her backpack? Does she want Daddy to put her into the car, or does she want to get into the car by herself? Does she want the pink soap or the white soap? Two choices. Never leave open-ended options. EVER. Even with two choices all hell can break lose.

If a cracker is the wrong shape or if I take the straw out of the plastic before Adele has a chance to do it, tantrum. If I peel her banana the wrong way, or cut her food, or don't cut her food. There is some crying, hopping/dancing back and forth, and tears. We discuss calming our bodies and using our words. Usually the tantrum is resolved within minutes, especially if I un-peel her banana promptly.

But with paci wars, the tantrums test every negotiating and reactionary skill in my body. As of now we've limited pacifier time to just while we are changing Adele's diaper at home, and in certain stressful situations where we want to keep our sanity for long periods of time, such as on an airplane. She doesn't use paci at school and doesn't use it to sleep. But getting her to give it up after a diaper change at home has turned into tantrum central, mostly in the morning after she is dressed and comes to our room to watch TV while we get dressed. 

Sean and I take a team approach. Both of us remain calm and remind Adele to calm her body. Take deep breaths. Use her words. She can use paci during a diaper change. But then paci goes away until the next diaper change. There are tears. And the hopping/dancing around. Like poop on the face, paci tantrums test my patience, my strength. But in those moments I remind myself: hey, this is motherhood and it's not always pretty and sometimes it's messy. And she's only 2. She's learning. She's growing. 

I recognize and acknowledge her feelings and emotions: "It's OK to feel sad."

And we make some deal. Two choices, usually. If she stops crying and calms her body, she can do this or that. Once she calms her body we will turn the TV back on. 

And then when the crying stops, and paci is safely back in the drawer until the next tantrum, I can continue with my routine, and Adele begins her singing and talking all over again.

Another area that has tested my patience lately is getting into the car, whether it's on the way to school, leaving school, or pretty much going anywhere. This time, though, there is no tantrum. Adele is actually quite peaceful and calm as she dilly-dallies slowly to the car, playing around, singing, talking, not quite getting herself into her car seat. 

She touches all the buttons, asks a lot of questions. But if I pick her up to put her in the car seat, tantrum. So we let her get in herself. We use stickers, toys, books, snacks, anything to get her in the car seat. I don't mind waiting a little and I am patient, but sometimes we are talking about a 15-20 minute ordeal. They say toddlers have no sense of time. That is true. But when getting into the car, we are usually on our way to work. So I give us extra time. I prepare myself in the event it could take a while. I give us some extra time. I give us a cushion because I anticipate the dilly-dallying. And Adele has no awareness I am impatient. (Because I hide it well). 

Me: "Adele, please get into the car."

Adele: says something about Daddy or Campbell or school, touches the buttons on the car door

Me: "Please climb into the car."

Adele: puts one leg in the car

Me: "You're doing great honey! So, what are you going to do in school today?"

Adele: leg out of the car. Says some more things. 

Me: (gritting my teeth. We've reverted). "Adele, please get into the car and I will give you a Minnie Mouse sticker."

Adele: Asks for books and toys and snacks

Me: "If you get into your car seat I will give you your books and toys. Which book do you want to look at? Elmo or Bubble Guppies?"

Adele: slowly climbs in while looking around and pointing out other people's houses and birds

This goes on for a few more minutes. When she finally gets in the car I am exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally. I've had to strategize. Compromise. Bribe. All while being patient and supportive. But once she's in and I've buckled her and we're driving off to school we talk about all sorts of things, from the moon to shapes to what our weekend plans are. We name everyone we love, and how old they are, and when their birthdays are. 

And motherhood. 

It's not for the faint of heart, I remind myself. But we're doing a great job. A great, great job. 

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.