A Day in the Life

Well, here I am. I have been blessed with another day, and if you're reading this now, then you were, too - congratulations! Welcome back.

As I am writing this right now, I am sitting on my cozy couch, three days post chemotherapy #5. My fashionable attire consists of black and pink fuzzy socks, my favorite gray sweatpants (thank you TARGET!), a Magnolia t-shirt, a gray zip-up hoodie, and my fav cancer-friendly hat. All I can hear is the wind blowing the lingering leaves outside, the beagle slightly snoring, and the boiler in the basement stealing all my money as it keeps me toasty warm on this cold winter day.

I feel well-rested today, with the help of a late night Atavan to push me into that comatose state I so enjoy being in as I snuggle under my covers by 9pm. It was no later than 6:48am this morning, though, that I heard a gentle 'A-choo' followed by a much bigger 'A-thwew!'. A tiny pitter-patter escalated down the hallway and into my room. 'Mommy, I need a tissue'. L was awake and ready to start our day. After a wipe of her nose, and a quick trip to the potty, she climbed up into bed with me. We quietly talked about our sleeps while T was still dozing in his crib, and recalled what the plan was going to be for the day. But first, Fruit Loops.

Once we heard T waking up, L quickly rushed to his room to say 'good morning'. What sounded as a nice wakeup, turned into shouting and tears before I could even get up. Sometimes they can be so sweet, and other times just so very sour! Apparently, L took his sock off, something hit his head, and all was forgotten after a diaper change...Oh yeah, Fruit Loops!

We made our way into the kitchen for breakfast, when who should show up peering through the big, bay window, but Grammy! Thank goodness. L has school today, so Grammy picked her and T up this morning to have a much more exciting day than being cooped up in this house with me! Once a month, L's school has show & tell, which she is always so excited about. She always chooses to bring a stuffed animal with her, but she is always so proud and makes sure she remembers what their name is before heading out the door. Today is that special day. She decided to bring her beanie baby, 'Nibbler', with her. While she is at school for the morning, Grammy will take T to run some errands or go to the library.

I have the morning to myself. I always dreamed of this kind of day - staying in my pajamas, laying on the couch in silence, actually listening to and guiding the thoughts inside my head. Now that it's forced, though, it doesn't seem like that much fun. I miss my kids. I miss the background noise and chaos running around my house. As early as it felt waking up today with my girl, I love those cozy, quiet moments with her. How many more of those will I have before she's too grown to want to lay with her Mommy, or I am too sore to be able to cuddle with her? Sure, it's nice letting people help with your every day to-do's, but it's an even better feeling when you can get that control back and have the energy to take back the reins. Every week post-chemo, I dread not being able to do all that I can for my children and my family. I just need to remind myself that this state is only temporary. I am halfway through this round's fatigue, and I only have one more cycle left. One day at a time.

In the meantime, I will soak up every little moment I can, and embrace the little things that make up my most beautiful life. Sure, big trips and excursions, sports and dance classes, are good for anyone, but what really shapes your child is how they are loved. Let go of the pressure you face as a parent. Ignore that judgmental voice in your head questioning every decision you make. Slow down, listen to, and simply love your child. That is the most important thing you can do for them.

Bloom where you are planted.

Om (noun): The whole universe in one single word. The union of mind, body, and spirit.

Deep breath in.

Exhale.

Om.

Repeat.

Life is busy. Even before my diagnosis, life was busy. I currently stay at home with my two children, ages 2 and 3 1/2. For any other mothers (and fathers) out there, you know how draining, and wonderful, and chaotic that can be. One day is set aside for grocery shopping and laundry, another day is preschool and music class, then there's story time and Christmas shopping, errands and doctor's appointments, and the list goes on. I enjoy spending time with my kids, I do. I just have a hard time when all of these things are crammed into one day. The other problem is that when we try to have down time at home, it tends to leave us with hitting, fighting, constant redirection, and headaches. So, most days we try to get out of the house...

Since my diagnosis, I have wondered how much easier it would be to go through chemo treatment without my kids. I wouldn't need to plan for people to come over every day to make sure they are taken care of. I could sleep in as long as I want to. I would have a quiet house all to myself. Then, I recognized that these two lights in my life are exactly what keep me going. They get me out of bed in the morning, they give me energy when I didn't think I had any, and their little voices remind me that life is worth fighting for.

In the hustle and bustle of parenting, though, anyone can tell you that it is important to dedicate some time for yourself. Get out of the house, alone, and do something for yourself. Get your nails done, get a massage, pick up a hobby, go to the gym, just go for a drive! It doesn't have to be every day, because it's hard enough to make it happen once a week, but at least try to pencil it in your calendar to do something for you.

For me, this used to be running. It helped when the weather was warmer and I was a bit healthier, but I would get out and run four times a week. It was time by myself. I didn't have a diaper bag with me or a toddler on my hip. I didn't need to pack any goldfish or applesauce pouches. All I needed was my running shoes and a hair-tie. Sometimes, I would keep going simply because I didn't want to go home just yet (Is that bad?). Before my first treatment, I made it to 10 miles. My goal was 5 that day, because I didn't think my body could handle much more after learning about my cancer, but I started, and just kept going. I'm so happy I did it, too, because since then, I've only gone out once. I learned that my heart had a hard time keeping up, and I'm afraid to push it too much. I listened to my body and took a break from my summer passion.

Several weeks have passed since I last exercised, which means several weeks have passed since I last took some healthy time for myself. Sure, I've run an errand here and there without any kids in tow, but I needed more. Last week, I experienced my first, true yoga experience. It was exactly what I needed (and perhaps what you need, too). I was out of the house, yes, but more importantly I was in a relaxing space and able to release any tension I had inside of me - physically and emotionally.

When I decided to try out yoga, I had no idea where to go. So, who do I turn to when I need answers? Google. I came across a place called "Bloom Yoga Fitness Studio". It wasn't too far away, and the prices seemed reasonable, so I took a risk and signed up for a drop-in class. When I got there, I was alone, but I was immediately greeted by the friendly staff and met my instructor. She showed me where to put my things, and what equipment I needed. When I was hanging up my coat, I realized I only had on my warm winter hat. I wasn't about to go through the class with that on, so I rocked the bald look! It's funny, when I'm out in public and I take my hat off, it feels as if I'm stripping down naked. I don't know if it's because it automatically reveals my cancer or because it's a part of my body that no one has seen in 28 years, but either way it makes me feel extremely vulnerable. When I excused my 'bald head' to my instructor, she asked if I was going through chemotherapy, to which I responded 'yes'. She reassured me that I looked beautiful and told me about her friend who was just about to start her own chemo journey. I quickly felt much better about my self-image and walked into the class with 10x more confidence.

The lights were dimmed the slightest bit and there was soothing music playing. Six other women were sitting on their mats and I found my spot in between two other ladies. The instructor came in and lightly greeted everyone with a generic "How is everyone doing?" We all responded "Good" and we began. Deep breath in. Exhale. Om. Repeat. I was relaxed. For the first time in a long time, I was focusing on myself. I was focusing on the most basic thing I could do with my body - my breathing. My body was moving and I was able to stretch out these muscles that have been resting for too long. It felt amazing. It was the last five minutes and our instructor told us to lay down on our mats to get ready for  Shavasana, or corpse pose. She turned the lights off. The only light in the room was coming through the left door's window, and the song "Be Still" by Sophia came on. All we needed to do was lay there. Lay still with our palms up, completely relax our muscles and breathe. I laid there in the dark while tears streamed down my cheeks. I was breathing. I was alive. I was one with my mind, body, and spirit. My whole self was in that room and I was not worried about anything else. I like to think that they were happy tears, as if it was a complete release of any negativity inside of me. I wiped my eyes dry just as the lights came back on. We sat up on our mats with our legs crossed. Deep breath in. Exhale. Om. Repeat.

Class was over, and I walked out of there feeling absolutely refreshed. I went back again tonight and plan on making it a weekly routine. Cancer will not prevent me from living my life as normally as possible, but if it weren't for cancer, I don't know if I would have ever taken the risk to practice yoga. This disease continues to test me and I continue to prove how much stronger I am than it is. I am learning more about myself everyday, and for that, I am grateful.

Namaste.

Making Reason

Everything happens for a reason.

There is a reason for everything.

Make reason in everything.

I'm not saying I necessarily believe in fate. I'm not even saying that there's necessarily a puppeteer up above, making all of these things happen around us. Regardless, everything happens...and it is up to us to decide how to reason it.

You don't question the good stuff as often, but when the bad stuff rolls around, you always end up asking yourself, at least once, "why me?" It is up to you to answer that question the right way. This is not a time for you to start pointing fingers or blaming yourself. What did you do wrong? Not a damn thing. But you know what you're about to do right? Instead of finding everything you possibly did wrong in the past, you're going to focus on the good things that are coming in the future.

Every time you do something you wouldn't have otherwise done if it weren't for this 'bad stuff' going on in your life, you're going to be grateful for it. Every time you meet a new person, or reconnect otherwise lost relationships, you're going to be grateful. Even places you've gone before, that you're just able to see in a different light because of this 'bad stuff' that may be going on, be happy that you were lucky enough to experience the 'bad stuff'. Without the 'bad stuff', let's face it, we wouldn't have any 'good stuff' to compare it to.

Life is all about balance. There was a time in college when I wasn't all that balanced. I was focusing on the negative things in my life without being able to find the positivity in much of anything. My close friend had died in an awful car accident, another friend had attempted suicide, and my parents were going through a divorce all within my last year of high school. Let me tell you, I spent plenty of time questioning "why me?" I felt as though I had lost control of everything. My life was spinning around me and I didn't know who was going to be there when it stopped. I wallowed in self-pity. I cried. I bled. I starved. I screamed. Then, I finally started to see the light in all of the darkness.

I met my husband through all of this. Most days, it was him guiding me to see this light, and, now, I am grateful for that 'bad stuff' that happened. Our relationship wouldn't be what it is if it weren't for that 'bad stuff'. We would go for hikes, have secret rendezvous in the library, devour bowls of ice cream...all which seemed like little things, but it's those little things that bring the brightest light. Now, the two littlest in our lives, a girl age 3 and a boy age 2, are the brightest lights of all. And now I am forever grateful.

I would've thought, with my depressive past, I would have been more sad about my diagnosis. I was almost scared that I would fall back into that state of darkness. But, now, I think that it is because of all I experienced that senior year of high school, that I remain to be so positive. When you are forced to confront death at such a young age, you quickly learn how precious life is. Most 17-year-olds think they're invincible. They think they can do anything without consequence (or at least nothing more than being grounded). Just two days after I turned 17, I was told that I was never going to see my friend again. Never again hear her laugh or see her smile. It was in that moment, that I really grew up. I learned that I was not invincible, and neither was anyone else. I also developed a new way of viewing the world around me. Since then, I try not to take much for granted, because I have witnessed how it can all be taken away in just a brief moment. Now, my diagnosis just further etches this view of life I have, but I've been through hardships before and I persevered. I know what I am capable of and I know how strong I am. I know that it is through positivity that I will come out of this alive.

Cancer is what is happening right now in my life and I am finding a reason every damn day. A reason to love deeper and hug a little tighter. A reason to move more on my good days and rest more on my not-so-good ones. A reason to reach out to that friend I haven't talked to in too long. A reason to try yoga because I've always wanted to, but never committed. A reason to enjoy the tacos today because my sense of taste, today, is somewhat normal.  A reason to have a dance party with my kids while I have the energy. A reason to smile, simply because I still can.

Hey, I wouldn't be writing this blog and connecting with you if it weren't for cancer, right?

Me & Andrew, Sleeping Giant (2009)

Still Sarah.

I am not really sure what to do on here or where to begin. Whether it is to help me, or maybe help someone else, though, it's worth a try. Regardless, I think it is time for me to share my journey, so here it goes...

On October 2, 2018, I was diagnosed with Invasive Ductal Carcinoma Breast Cancer. I was 28 years young, I was training for my first half marathon, eating healthy (most of the time), and studying for my Real Estate Licensing Exam. As far as knew, I was doing everything right, but sometimes that just doesn't matter.

Not to belittle anyone who has been diagnosed with breast cancer, or any type of cancer for that matter, but I was so quick to think to myself that it was all going to be okay. Maybe it was to make myself feel better, but I knew plenty of people who had been diagnosed with cancer and they're doing just fine. I knew I was going to be fine, too.

Then, that certainty quickly shifted when I was told that it had spread to my vertebrae, automatically making it Stage IV Metastatic Breast Cancer.

"Wait. What?"

To be honest, I didnt even know what the word 'metastatic' meant until that meeting. The doctor just seemed so calm when she said it, as if I shouldn't be concerned. Then I heard the words 'Stage IV' and 'incurable' tossed around and saw my husband shaking his head in his hands. My face turned to stone. I could feel my mouth open the slightest bit and just stay there. My eyes were dry without one urge to blink. It was as if, in that moment, my spirit escaped my body. I was watching everyone around me respond to this devastating news, without even being able to react myself.

I'm not sure my spirit ever returned, and if it did, it's definitely not the same. It is through this journey, though, that I will find out who I am and who I am meant to be. Rest assured, I am still Sarah.