Two words I am so excited to say!

Girls, I am so ashamed!  I am ashamed that I let almost three months pass by without documenting everything that has happened.  I started this when I was first diagnosed so that you both, when you are old enough, could have my memories, reflections, and true emotions surrounding my journey with breast cancer.  But you will realize as adults that life sometimes flashes before your eyes and you had no idea that much time had passed!  My last entry was when I was emotionally struggling after surgery...since then I have returned to work full time, completed 28 radiation treatments, Taylor played her first year of softball that Dad and I coached, we participated in Relay for Life, and school is out for the summer.  Nine months ago, time felt like it was moving so slow...and now it feels like I was diagnosed yesterday!

Well, let's just get the great news out of the way----I am CANCER FREE!!  I've never been so happy to type/scream/shout/sing two words in all my life!  (although ''I do'' and " It's a Girl" rank close up there!!)  I have successfully completed 16 chemotherapy treatments over a five month period, recovered from a double mastectomy, and finished 28 radiation treatments.  All of that has lead to my body being CANCER FREE!  I struggled emotionally after surgery but every week I saw improvement in how I felt physically and within six weeks, I was back in the swing of things (work, life, motherhood)!  I still have some residual effects from surgery, like range of motion issues with my arm and numbness, but otherwise, I'm feeling quite healed.  I started radiation therapy about four weeks after surgery and completed all 28 treatments at the end of April.  Radiation therapy for breast cancer patients usually makes their energy level go down, like you've spent hours out in the summer sun, and burns your skin, as the beams are pointed directly at it.  Luckily, the radiation was not bad--my energy stayed up and my skin did great!  I was so lucky with that because I encountered lots of other women who did not do as well.   I was also proud that I was able to work again during treatment!

Now that the ''curative'' phase of this journey is over, I've been released from my Surgeon (Dr. G--you are the BEST!!) and from my Radiation Oncologist (appreciate you too Dr. S and Dr. T--your staff is amazing!).  I am now on to what I consider the ''maintenance'' phase.  I have to take a oral medication for 10 years--yes, I said 10 years--so by the time you are reading this, I will hopefully be done.  This medication will shut down my hormone receptors, decreasing my chances of a recurrence.  This medication has some side effects which I am (and you both and Dad are) dealing with, but nothing I can't get over.  I mean--I've already beat cancer!!  I also have to have an infusion of an IV medication every three weeks for a year (also shutting down my Her2 receptor in attempts to prevent recurrence) but that medication has little side effects.  The only down side is sitting there for an hour and half every three weeks!  But I do get to touch base with my Oncologist every three weeks, which makes me emotionally feel better---and I must say, I truly enjoy visiting with Dr. S.  She has become one of my most trusted physicians and, as I told her when I finished chemo, she never treated me like a ''patient'' but like a friend.  And for that, I cannot thank her enough!!  Dr. S recognized what was important to me--like Dad and you girls--and made sure that I was well enough to do all the things I wanted to do.  She definitely kept me in a positive frame of mind, which is half the fight!  I also have a couple of other ''minor, less invasive'' surgeries to complete by the end of 2014, which will be here before we know it.

So with all that said, now that I am CANCER FREE, we are trying to find our new normal.  I'm in the best place emotionally I have been in in years.  Being able to endure chemo, surgery, and radiation has made me realize that I am stronger that I ever knew I was.  I am truly proud of myself--I feel like I can do anything that I put my mind to!  With my new found confidence and motivation, I am working to get my body in a healthier state that it has been in a long time.  Eating right, exercising, spur of the moment living...focusing on things that I haven't for years.  By doing this, I will be a better wife and mother to you both for years to come!  And I am going to continue to blog...there are still so many things I want to document about this journey for you both to have.  In future letters,  I want to discuss how this journey has changed my spiritually (Thanks be to God for providing complete healing to my body!), how incredibly well you both dealt with this diagnosis, about the AMAZING community support we received, and so many other things!!

But I will leave you with the recent picture of Dad and I--it exudes the happiness we are experiencing that this journey is behind us, that our future as family is limitless, and that unconditional love for one another can heal all things (plus I am loving my new curly do)!

Love you the mostest--Mommy

Get me off this roller coaster!

Surgery is complete.  Double mastectomy with left side lymph node removal and tissue expander placement.  Three weeks ago today.  I haven't written because honestly, the past three weeks have been an emotional and physical roller coaster--one that I want off of.  Dr. G had warned me that I would feel like I had been hit by a truck for a week (yes), then see physical improvement by 10 days (yes), and be out and about in public some by 14 days (yes).  He also warned me that the journey after surgery seemed to take more of an emotional toll on women than physical (yes, yes, and yes).  When he said it, I thought ''Not me.  I've got a great outlook and positive attitude about this.  I have a peace from my Heavenly Father that makes me confident that I will beat this cancer''.  I am improving everyday physically, but I am now realizing that this surgery has shaken me to my emotional core.  A place I haven't been to in a long time.

Here's my disclaimer:  I want to be raw and honest about my feelings so that when you both are old enough to understand, you have a true sense of what I went thru and what we endured as a family.  

I've cried almost every day since my surgery.  I feel mad, I feel sad, I feel relieved, I feel pissed off.  I am truly grieving the person I was and the family we were before this cancer diagnosis.  (My feelings honestly have nothing to do with my physical changes--I was never attached to my chest in any way.  They provided nutrition for you both early in your lives but that was about it!)  I spend time thinking ''how did we get here?''  When I think back to when I married your Dad almost 10 years ago, I felt so carefree about life.  So happy.  So untouchable.  When we had you Taylor, those feelings of happiness and love just multiplied.  And after two heartbreaking miscarriages, when Finley finally finished off our family, I truly felt complete.  I felt like God had reached down with his own hands and blessed us immensely...once again, deeming our perfect family of four untouchable.

Sure, we have had some trails and challenges along the way.  We endured a financial crisis when the housing market crashed (I'm sure there will be something about that in your history books in high school).  Then, your Dad's seizures, plus his inability to drive for nine months.  But even in the midst of these challenges, and especially once we ''reached the other side'', I felt overly blessed, happy, untouchable.

Now, I just feel...EMOTIONAL.  So many different types of emotion that I can't say just one.  I feel sad that you girls have to witness your mother fight cancer.  I feel fortunate that right now you are both too young to understand the magnitude of this disease.  I feel guilty that your Dad and grandparents (along with other family and friends) have to pick up my slack in the daily care giving department.  I feel frustrated that I have had to be so dependent on others during my recovery from surgery.  I feel thankful that the cancer is finally out of my body.  I feel tired and exhausted of this journey and I have a ''stomp my feet, I don't wanna'' temper tantrum attitude about having to start radiation.  I feel grateful that God allows to wake up every day and see your smiling faces.  And sometimes I feel so emotional, that I go back to bed after you both leave for school and don't get back up until you come home.  If I am being totally honest with myself and with you both, I've gotten good at pretending things are okay--especially in front of you!

So, now we've been touched.  Touched and changed by breast cancer.  I have been forever changed.  Our family of four has been forever changed.  For the better and for the worse.  But like I have said so many times on this journey, the blessings that have come from this diagnosis have far outweighed the burdens.  I am confident that six months or a year from now when we've ''reached the other side'', I will again feel overly blessed and happy again.  But in this moment, I would really love to get off this roller coaster!

Love you the mostest--Mommy

Ringing the Bell

So much time has passed since my last letter.  We've been so busy just ''doing life'' that I haven't had the chance to sit down and pour my heart into words.  If this journey has taught me anything, it's that life continues on...no matter what the circumstances are around you.  The days pass faster when you are fighting for every one of them.

In talk of days, there's a new date that has significant meaning to our family now.  January 16, 2013.  The day I finished chemotherapy for breast cancer.  Five months of almost weekly appointments, weekly infusions, days of recovery in between.  Five months of hair loss, energy loss, and other pesky side effects.  But most importantly, five months of love, support, prayers, and peace.  Five months of enlightenment.  Five months of purpose.  Five months of a journey that God laid out for me.

This is a picture of me ringing the bell outside of the cancer center.  Survivors get to ring the bell to signify completion of their treatment.  What a feeling it was to ring that bell that day!  It's a Wonderful Life taught us ''every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings''.  Boy, did I feel like I had angel wings that day, flying high, rising higher and higher above this cancer.  The sound of that bell ringing is truly imprinted on my heart forever.

So next is surgery....February 18.  I have a four week break from doctor's appointments and infusions.  From medicines and blood draws.  Although I welcome the break, I wonder if I will be worried, as not visiting doctors doesn't give me the reassurance that things are okay.  But, that's when I most lean into my reassurance from elsewhere.  From my Heavenly Father.  I must be reassured by Him that everything is okay.  That the cancer is not growing.  That the chemotherapy has done its job.  Girls, we must always seek His reassurance in all situations, that are within our control or beyond.  It is God's reassurance that will give you the peace that passes all understanding...a peace that I now know well.

See you sweet girls on the other side of surgery!  Love you mostest--Mommy

Seeing the Light

The holidays have come and gone...and we were blessed beyond belief this season.  You girls had so much fun celebrating Jesus' birth and opening presents on Christmas.  And I made sure to enjoy every minute of the craziness this year.  In years past, I have taken the spirit and magic of Christmas for granted--I've been known to be a little Scrooge like at times.  But this year, I made a conscious effort to see it all thru your eyes.  I strategically took the holiday season slowly, cherishing every moment and memory.  I loved watching you both squeal when you opened a present you had been wishing for.  I lived for hearing you scream ''This is the best Christmas ever'' when you finally discovered the new trampoline in the backyard.  I even treasured standing on my tired feet, baking and cooking for family celebrations.  And I will forever remember how precious you both looked in your matching Christmas pajamas.  One thing that I have learned from cancer is that I will try not to take another moment or memory for granted.

Luckily, we have had no more ''bumps'' on the chemotherapy road.  After my last post (and by the grace of the Great Physician), my blood counts rebounded and were higher than they had been since starting this journey.  We (my medical team and I) decided to finish off chemotherapy and then proceed with surgery.  So as of today, I have two Taxol treatments left.  One this Thursday, one the Thursday after that.  Oh, I see the light--and it is shining bright!!  

Back in August, the end felt so far away that I couldn't grasp what it would be like.  But after five LONG months (and I mean really LONG months), we only have a week and a half to go.  Although I've most recently felt physically well, only suffering from fatigue and muscle soreness every now and then, I realize how very emotionally drained I am.  I am tired of going to treatment week after week after week.  I am tired of the other ''subtle'' side effects...like bruised, blackened, and brittle nails.  I am over the stiffness I feel every morning that makes getting out of bed challenging.  And, more than anything, I am so over not having any hair.  It didn't bother me at first (and I am still proudly rocking my no wig look), but I am OVER wearing hats EVERY SINGLE DAY!

With all that being said, I still see the light.  I see the small hair growth (that looks more like a bad mullet right this moment).  I see the clearness at the base of my nail beds.  I know that in a couple of weeks from now, I will wake up and jump right out of bed--hopefully!  I see the end of the chemotherapy road...and what a beautiful sight it is.

So girls, after chemotherapy ends, surgery is next on deck.  It looks like it will be the second week of February.  Now I know that surgery will be no easy task!  But, luckily, I know that each day I will feel a little better than I did the day before.  And the good news is, I don't have to start over every week like with chemo treatments.  We are getting closer and closer to the end of this cancer journey.  Oh, the light is so bright!

Love you the mostest--Mommy