Liam

On the eve of my third son's birth, I am reminded of what a struggle his pregnancy was. Not only physically, but emotionally. Three sons. No daughters. Where we were living, girls were revered, boys, not so much. To most, I drew the short stick. The losing stick. Time after time. Now that 7 years have passed, I can just barely drudge up those horrible times. I remember the words that were spoken to me, the things I was told regarding my third boy. But I also remember God's grace.

I remember the elderly lady in Walmart shopping for her great grandchildren. An older man trailing behind her, talking with her, holding her arm. When she saw my boys and my expanded belly, she asked I was having another boy. When I replied yes, I held my breath for what was to come. She was gracious and excited. She had had three boys! In fact, her third son was with her now, shopping. He took her out every week for lunch and shopping. He was her greatest joy. Thank you, Jesus, for small favors of other mothers.

When I thought I would lose my best friend because she was having a girl after her two boys, I was reminded that true friends don't stray. We are friends to this day. :)

On another low day, I was at church feeling sorry for myself and walked out by the playground. A man was doing some yard work and asked how I was doing. We got to talking and he said that he always felt special to his mother because he was her third son. Another angel on my walk. After several incidents like this, I knew I was ready to meet my little boy.

 From his scary birth on, this little guy has captured my soul and broke my heart wide open. I fully embraced being a boy mom. I know not how long I hold their hands, but they will hold my heart forever.

Tomorrow, Liam turns 7! Seven! He is getting so big. In the first grade, reading like a fiend, doing so many things for himself. He is our silly boy. The one who keeps us in stitches with his antics and funny faces. He has a ready smile, an open personality, and a giving soul that just won't quit. My life is so much richer due to my third son.  If I could look back and tell someone in these shoes what I have learned, it would be this. Embrace it. Embrace the children you are given. Boy or girl. All boys or all girls. Cherish them and the gifts they bring to your life. For how you raise them depends on if they will be there when they are older or not.

Happy Birthday, Liam! I can't imagine life without you! Love you to pieces!!

Little Things

Many of you may remember last month when my friends' boys were in an ATV accident. My close friend, Heather's son, Cohen, lost his right thumb and had a skull fracture. Losing your right thumb is a big deal, especially when you are a 7 year old right handed boy who loves to draw. These past three weeks he has been enduring a groin fold attachment where his right hand is attached to his stomach area to grow skin for his grafts. He has always been a sensitive little boy with a big heart and a beautiful smile. I have watched him, and his two brothers, grow up in the past 6.5 years. Through all that he has been through, he is still thinking of others. This is a note I received from him.

When you walk through life without paying attention to the little things, they will pass you by. This little boy has learned the hard way how fragile life is. And is passing on his caring and loving soul. I was brought to tears by this simple note written by his LEFT hand! 

It reminded me of how many times I think of others but do not take action to let them know. When a pet dies, or if I know they are having a hard time, or even to just say THANKS! My goal is to remember to do these things. To send cards, emails, texts, FB messages, anything to let others know they are in my heart and mind.

Many of you have done this for me in the past week. Gentle reminders of our friendship, and the bond we share whether we have met in real life or not. And I appreciate each one of them. I feel completely supported and held up by my friends near and far. I cannot express the comfort this brings.

But I will always be touched most by this little note. Because I know what it took for this little guy to complete it. I know what a blessing it is that he survived his accident and is still with us today. When I see him, it takes my breath away to think about how easily our children could be taken from us by one accident. One mistake. But thankfully, that was not the case. 

Be aware of the little things around you. The tiny impacts you have on other people's lives. And the big impacts they have on yours. Take nothing for granted. Find joy in the storms. It will help you weather things much easier. Trust me. Finding joy really helps ease the soul. For if you are willing to praise God from the valleys, it makes praising him on the mountaintops that much sweeter!

Carry On! :)

Marching On!

Quietly you walk down the hall. Praying silently in your mind. "God, I know you are in control. Your will has been, and will continue to be done. I just pray that my lymph nodes are not involved. I'm walking this walk, Lord. I'm looking for the blessings. And I see them! Oh, I see them!! But, please, could you not let my lymph nodes be involved. Just my breast. Please? Amen."

Pasting a smile on, you pull open the door to the Breast Center and face the receptionist. Who obviously has not gotten up with her Thursday Happiness on. Great. With your heart pounding, your blood rushing to your head, tears welling in your eyes, and your heart in your throat, you persevere. Smiling though you want to cry, you ask her about her dog, who's picture is hanging behind her. You tell her you hope her week has gone well. (Listen lady! You deal with breast cancer ever day! WE are not having such great days on this side of the counter!!). Finally, she softens a little. One hurdle down.

You don't even sit down and they are ushering you into the back. Your husband has barely gotten into the office from attempting to find a parking spot. Why do hospitals never have enough parking???? You undress into a pink gown. Again. Seriously people. I get it. Pink is for breast cancer. This is a breast clinic. But egads! I've had enough!! Its like my life suddenly exploded into pepto bismol! Another person exams my breasts. I'm totally numb at this point. They could leave the door open and I wouldn't flinch. We sit, we talk.

Lord, please don't let my lymph nodes be involved.....

Weirdly, some part of you, as you sit in that chair, expect that the doctor will look at you and say, "Well, we were wrong. I don't feel a thing. It's really not cancer. Miraculously, it has gone away! We're sorry to have scared you and brought you all this way. The nurse will see you out." But of course, that does not happen. You hear those words again. You have breast cancer. Even though you have no family history. Even though you don't smoke. Even though you don't do drugs. Even though you are at a healthy weight, work out, watch what you eat, limit what you drink, go to church, pay your taxes, love your children and your mate.....it is not enough. You have cancer. And, oh, by the way....there is a second mass that was not originally detected. BAM! There is no turning back now. As if there was before.

Test results are read, options weighed, more ultra sounds and mammograms are done. More people feel your breasts and push and shove on them.  And by the end. You.Are.Done. Sitting in a waiting room with 14 women all in the same pink gown, you look around. No one is talking. Why is no one talking? Are we on death row? Is it prohibited? They said to turn your phone to vibrate but where was the sign that said 'SHHHH! This is a library'? I missed it. As I gaze around at the sea of pink I realize something else. I am the youngest one in the room. At 42, on this day, no one comes within a decade of my age. Yet we are all the same. How did this happen to me? Why is this happening to them? But it's not our fault.

For cancer does not know your name. It doesn't know your age. It doesn't know your socioeconomic status or your social security number. It doesn't know what you have to live for, or what you would be willing to live without. Cancer does not care. But I do. I care very much for these women among me. My forever sisters that I've never met. And one to never sit in silence, I begin to chat.......

There is a sort of humbleness to give your health history. To reduce your life into a few small sentences. I started my menses at 13. I was on birth control for 10 years. I had three pregnancies and three live vaginal births. I've had 3 surgeries in my life time and then this most recent biopsy. I am on no medication. I am healthy. Or, I was. Or I still am, but my right breast is not. I don't know. All I know is that I WILL be healthy again. Soon.

Lord, please don't let my lymph nodes be involved.......

The plastic surgeon has great gusto for what he does. He can make me have breasts again! He can build them with my skin and his two hands! I feel  the implants. Dave feels the implants. We look at each other and try not to giggle. I ask if I have saline implants and I do box jumps...will I slosh?? "Yes. We have some patients that say they that does happen." For real? HA! Ok...I do not want to slosh. We volunteer to be part of a blood flow study to help surgeons be able to do more nipple preserving skin sparing surgeries. We are all about science. We can help. We will do it. I actually have to have pictures of myself taken. Shirtless. This is so strange. There is a 3D image of me in a chart. So they can note the changes in my breasts as they document my satisfaction. But underneath, I'm not satisfied! This is not fun and games! I don't care about your new camera! This is a necessity. I HAVE to have my breast removed. Or it will kill me. All jokes aside, this is some scary stuff.

But through it all, I trust that God has his hand on me. And He does! My news is good news after good news. Other than the other mass, all results show I am a healthy 42 year old woman. With this one flaw. Which they can take away! And soon! I'm grateful. I'm so thankful that I have a curable cancer. So, in the cancer world, I rock! And next Wednesday, I will cast this demon from my body, hopefully never for it to return.

Lord, please don't let my lymph nodes be involved...... This is, after all, my mantra from the start. I have cancer. I get it. I'm ok. I will prevail. I will do what it takes to get it gone. I will fight. And I will win! But can I have this one little wish? Oh, and good blood flow to the nipple too, please. One doesn't want to be the loser statistic. ;)

Standing Still

It's been a week since the dreaded word Cancer has re-entered my life. Not since 2005 when my Dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer has my family been touched. Not before it either. Sure, my Grandpa Hinman had some spots on his skin that he had removed, but he was a contractor, always outside. Isn't that to be expected?

Last week as I sat outside our local YMCA with Elliana, texting my mom, when Dave called for me to meet him at my doctor's office. And I knew. Just like I suspected when the lump was found, and I knew in my heart when the biopsy was done. I knew I had cancer. As I drove to the doctor's office I knew I had a choice on how I would receive and react to this news. How would I respond? We all have those moments in life when in our minds, there is a split second review of what our actions will be. Or our words. And it was as if time stood still. I heard a small voice tell me..."Remember when you watched your friend deal with her daughter's brain cancer? And you said if you were ever in a situation like that, you wanted to walk with her same grace? Now is your chance." And I knew, in that tiny moment, how I would proceed.

This week, since things are calmer before the storm of deciding what treatment and surgery I will have done, I have had many moments of standing still. And I am reminded of something else. I am a woman WITH cancer. I am NOT cancer. Meaning, it is now a part of me. But it is not all of me. It never will be.

It reminds me of when I worked in mental health and did psychological testing, diagnosis, and developmental clinics. I would have the joy of spending time with other people's children. Getting to know them. Finding out their intellect, how they answer things, what toys like they to play with, how they compensate, relate to, and deal with life. Then I would put on paper my findings and talk to their parents. Many times in my career I gave wonderful news! But other times, I had to give grave news. Life shattering news. Changing news. And one thing I always reminded those parents before they walked away from me. This is your child. The one you love, laugh with, care for, and enjoy. He is the same when you walk out of here with this diagnosis as he was when you walked in without it. The only thing different is that you have the knowledge to know how to move forward with this same child. You have the power to intercede and change things in his environment so that he excels. But him, this little one of yours, HE is the same.

I am the same.

I am still doing the normal every day life things. Getting the kids up. Driving them to school. Grocery shopping. Laundry (egads! The laundry a family of 6 creates!). Talking with friends about things that are going on in their lives. Because their lives haven't stopped just because mine seemed to rotate on the same film day after day. I am still raising four kids, Christmas shopping, cooking dinner, and meeting new faces. And thinking about breast cancer and how to get rid of it.

In the standing still moments, I know I am not the only one who is going through a rough patch. I know I have other friends who are dealing with situations in their lives. With their children, their pregnancies, their marriages, their jobs, and their health. I had a friend tell me recently, "You don't want to hear my stuff, you have enough going on." True. my plate is full. But I am a master at moving things around and finding a place for other people's stuff. Because your troubles bring my heart something else to focus on. And it helps remind me that as we walk through life, we all have our struggles. The things that we find overwhelming and heartbreaking. We just carry different bags as we walk, but the burdens can feel the same. I want to know how you are as my friends. I want to pray for you, too.

I wish everyone would know what it feels like for me on this side. So that no one ever doubt the power of their words or actions. Sometimes we get so engrossed in the comings and goings of our lives, we forget how many people there are around us that we care about. And in turn, care about us. Only once before in my life have I ever experienced such an outpour of love. Only once before in my life have I felt totally surrounded in prayer, uplifted to Christ, and known that I was on a faith walk like no other. This was with the adoption of our daughter. I've seen what God can do. And if you have ever seen her, you know what He can do, too!

This past week, I have felt the same gentle guidance. I have felt the same strong arms. I have felt the same total trust and peace at what is coming ahead. I know it is due to the many prayers that surround me. I am in a protective bubble of God's making and it is because of the hundreds of people who are praying for me and my family. I am humbled and can never thank any of you enough. The comfort that prayer brings outweighs the stress of the situation. Please keep them coming!

For they wash me with God's grace. As I am standing still.

Blessings

As I sat with God early this morning, talking about the past few days, thanking him for so many things, and reminding Him to show me the blessings along the way, I was rewarded with a screen show of the past week.

I was reminded of the kindness of the ladies who did all three of my mammograms. From the first joking 'why do we have to do this' shots to the last young lady I had a total meltdown on. The soft explaining of an ultrasound tech who was by my side during my biopsy as well.  The patience of a patient advocate who never expected to become my sounding board. The quiet confidence of a radiologist friend who remarked he would rather see me with the boys on the ball field than enduring a biopsy. This same radiologist who stayed late to read scans, explained every tiny detail and looked at things immediately when they crossed his desk so that we would not have to wonder. To worry. I know not everyone gets these privileges.

The kindness of the patient registration workers. Walking into imagery and seeing a dear friend across the desk. Who sees you are shaking before you realize it and places a warm blanket across your shoulders. To two MRI operators who pray with you that the cancer will be localized, treatable, that you will be CURED.

The unselfishness of a surgeon who meets you between cases, orders additional tests to have done that day because she knows you have another dear friend watching over your baby. A wonderful friend who knew before being told something was 'off' in your universe and quietly shows up to lend a hand.

A primary care doctor that has seen you through years of regular work ups, watched you adopt a baby, and rejoiced with your family every step of the way. To know that sitting down to give you the diagnosis of cancer feels like she is telling someone in her own family. Because in essence, she is. Her pitbull attitude has gotten you a biopsy on Monday, results on wednesday, a MRI and CAT scan on that same day, another CAT scan on Thursday as well as meeting with the surgeon, a bone scan on Friday, a PET scan on Saturday, and a second opinion surgeons appointment the next Thursday.

A second family at my husbands office. Who sent flowers, gifts, texts, emails, face book messages. Who showed up at my home to watch my children so Dave could be with me during tests. Who when I showed up for work called out the pink elephant in the room, hugged me and let me know no matter what, I am supported. And then moved on.

My husband, who was crushed by this news, yet held his head high. Asked what I needed and what he could do to help. Who patiently explains test after test and it's results as if I were a simpleton. Knowing I cannot process what is happening. Trusting him that he does know and walking where he leads me. Where he has been every step of the way. His strength oozing into me. His arms holding me. His love surrounding me. Oh yes, I am blessed! Tried, but blessed.

Several friends who work in the medical field who have been there since the first moment I could breath and announce. With their check ins by text, dinner, small tokens of letting me know they understand and that I do not walk alone. Their quiet presence all I need. How they feel they aren't doing anything but by being there, as they are, they are doing everything in the world.

To friends who just walk up and hug. And then walk away. Those hugs are the most precious gifts. The strength that flows from them into my body keeps me upright. To the calls to friends who have walked this road before me. Their ability to know what is going on in my mind without me saying a word. Their 'been there done that' advice is heeded. I have wonderful, strong women and men I am following and I want to be just like them.

The gifts of support from my family. The ability to call and give each detailed report. The levelheadedness, yet love that pours from them. The 'when do you need me?' time frames that let you know when the time comes, you will be taken care of. The break down texts to a sister who holds it together when you cannot. A sister in law who shares her heart. And a brother who calls. I am a woman who could not ask for one more thing.

I am grateful this is happening to me. Not to my husband. Too many people depend on him, including me.  And certainly not to my children. I would take any pain from them and hold it as my own. I know they are watching how I walk this path and I will not let them down.

And I have an amazing support system online. For years, most of my closest friends have been people I have never met. Those I talked to in the dead of night. Those who's insight was not into my physical presence but my words. The detailed going ons of my life. Few people understand it, but those who have an online support family, there is no explanation. As we moved from place to place, even my dear friends that I saw every day, became an online presence. And I have been blessed to accumulate friends from every walk of my life, and to have kept most of them. When I read the words of my friends, I am humbled. By their emotions, by their words, by their support. Even people I do not know at all are offering prayers. And I know anything whispered from your lips is heard by our Father. He has let me know that these prayers surround me, lift me up, comfort me, and that they will get me through this. Every step of the way. I am a fighter with God's army behind me! How can I lose?

So although I am starting my 4th day as a breast cancer victim. I am not a victim. I have seldom been in my life, and this is no different. I am a child of God! I am met at every corner of this adversity with people who are at my side. And His word in my mind. And I will walk through this the only way I know how. I will write. And share. And be so thankful for the blessings that have already been bestowed upon me. Thank you, Jesus. For that beautiful picture show. My heart is full.

Now Onward! For a PET scan. Soon, I will be my own glowing Halloween decoration! :)

I Am.....

I am the second daughter to a wonderful couple. I am the third granddaughter to a family that was over run with girls, only to be over run with boys now. I am the child who walked to the beat of a different drummer. I am the child who had one sock up and one sock down and pig tails that did not stay put. I am the child who gave my parents a run for their money, yet had a gentle heart and a giving soul. I am a loved child of my family and God.

I was diagnosed with scoliosis in the 6th grade. I was told by peers that my back was broken so I could not participate in cheerleading. I was a child championed by a family friend. I cheered. I played ball. I became a runner at the age of 11. My mother drove me to Shriner's hospital in Lexington, Ky, two and a half hours from where we lived, once a year for five years. The curvature of my spine got so bad they were contemplating putting me in a back brace. I had a growth spurt and the curve almost corrected itself. I am now only bothered by my scoliosis during pregnancy and if I am very tired. I am an answered medical prayer.

From going to Shriners, I witnessed children with no limbs, with half limbs, burn victims, children with trachs, and their families that were struggling. I saw the effects of drug abuse, accidents, and birth defects. I learned to look past the outside deformities and to see the child or adult behind. I learned to look people in the face, look into their hearts, and to really see them. I learned compassion at a young age. It gave me the drive to help others. I am a believer in the human race. And in goodness in every heart. I am a defender and a supporter.

I graduated college in two and a half years. I graduated from grad school a year later and got a job in community mental health. From there I learned to stand for the underdog, help families heal, believe in children who had no one else, organize and run a developmental clinic for children who were born prematurely, with developmental disabilities,  and with Autism. I worked in the NICU with the neo-natologists giving advice and support to nurses on how to developmentally support neonates. I worked with some of the most fragile and sick babies known to our world. I watched some thrive and others die. I learned to comfort through tears. I am a believer in miracles. I have seen them first hand. I know God is our ultimate healer and that He has a plan for every one of us. I have seen the tapestry of life in bits and pieces. I know the fragility we live with every day.

I am a mother. Of three boys who at various points of my pregnancy and their births, we could have lost any or all of them. From prematurity, stuck in the birth canal, to losing the heartbeat in utero. I have given natural childbirth, breastfed four kids through breast infections, in public, on planes, in the bathroom, and anywhere else between. I have been pitied for my lopsided family, told horrible things to my face about raising boys, and made to feel less than because I was the Queen of my household. I am a champion of boys. I am the face of gender disappointment. I am a woman who took what life gave her and made it better. I am the Mom of Boys and I Love It. I am an author to share those experiences with others. Because no one should feel alone. Or left out. Or less than. Even if it's controversial. Even if others don't understand it. Even if it makes people mad or sad or happy, it is out there. I am a 'stand for what you believe in' kind of gal. I will protect those I care about. I am not to be pitied. I am a pioneer, a strong lady. I am in love with my three sons. I am grateful for life lessons.

I am a wife who makes mistakes. Who has followed her husband through 5 moves to different states. I have taken down homes and built them up again. I am his biggest champion and his greatest frustration. We have been married for 15 years. He is my rock. He has given me wings to do anything I have ever desired. I am loved and cherished.

I am the mother of a daughter. I am part of an adoption triad. We adopted for family balancing. I have learned to walk in faith, not by sight. Our daughter had been my biggest walk of faith to date. I have been entrusted with one of God's greatest gifts, a child. I am the face of open adoption. I know that I can love a child that grew in my heart just as much as if she grew under it. I can love complete strangers just because they share my daughter's bloodline. I am grateful to a friend who supported me in my desire to breastfeed my adopted child. I was successful, much to the surprise of others. I am blessed beyond measure by a God who made me a promise and kept it. I am humbled by the prayers given by a community larger than life that helped to bring her to us. I am changed by adoption. I am blessed. I am thankful. I am the mother of four.

Yesterday I found out that I am one in eight women who will be diagnosed with breast cancer in their lives. I am the woman who went in for a routine mammogram and came out weeks later from a biopsy. I have heard the unthinkable. Cancer. I have been CAT scanned, had dye inserted, been poked and prodded. I will have surgery and learn words I never wanted to know. But through it all, I know one thing about myself. I am a fighter. I am a believer. I know that God is by my side. I know that he deemed this walk would happen to me long before this day. I know that I will get through it on the wings of prayers, and His good words. For one day, I will be able to say I am a survivor, like my Dad. Because I know, I already am. I am the face of breast cancer. I am a fighter. I.will.overcome.

What are you? What makes you--you? What gifts do you have? Are you using them? I had a friend ask "Why you? You don't deserve this," and it made me smile. Why NOT me? Why would God not use me in this manner? To soften my heart to others struggling. To make new friends. To be there for someone else down the line. To give hope. To receive it. I am a child of God. I will be healed by Him. I am on another faith walk that will expand my horizons and bless me tenfold. Why NOT me? I'm looking for the blessings. Are you? Do you see them in your own life? I do.

For that is what I Am.

Do you ever wonder??

Since my Grandfather died last month, it has gotten me thinking. What do we leave behind when we go? What is there besides a house full of stuff that holds meaning to you, but maybe not to the people who are cleaning it out. No one is there to tell them those were your favorite pants, your go-to tie, the pillow you could only fall asleep using.  No one to tell the story about the trinkets, jewelry, gifts.... What is the legacy we leave behind when we go?

I wanted a thumb print necklace of Grandpa's thumbprint. My mother thought I had lost my mind. It was gruesome and odd. But to me, I remember my Grandpa's hands. How they were calloused and rough from years of working as a contractor. He had scars and marks that told a story of an 86 year old man's life. I loved those large, strong hands. Those hands that would help me bring in fish when I was little and fishing on the Mississippi river. Those hands that showed me how to hammer a nail. Those hands that were placed on my shoulders at the coffee shop when he introduced me as his "side kick" to all of his friends. There was love, in my Grandpa's hands. And when I wear that necklace, the memories of a lifetime with him flood me.

What will I leave behind? What will people think when they remember my name? Will the influence of anything I have done go further than the walls I live among? Will my kids ever say.."My mom did it this way.." Or "My mom said this..." Will friends see something in them that reminds them of me?

A few weeks ago I was at the gym. While doing my workout with my trainer, I was serious about something and must have had a determined and or grimacing look on my face. Afterwards, my oldest son's music teacher came up. He said to me that he always thought our son looked  like my husband but when I was making that face while lifting, he totally saw Kadin in me. It made my heart smile. To see a piece of me, in my son.

But what if I leave tomorrow. My job here in not finished. Raising these children is not done. True, I have no regrets, but I still have more I want to do. For God to use me to do more. It makes me think. What should I be doing differently? Where should my focus be? Where can I make the largest impact?? And then I remember.....I have four huge blessings in my life. It is within them that I will make the biggest impact. It is in their lives that my legacy will live on.

For just as remembering my Grandpa's hands, my children will remember mine. And my words. And my actions. And if I was there every morning, and tuck them in at night. If I listen to their dreams and fears. If I pick them up when they fall, patch their cuts and scrapes, and hug away their broken hearts. I am there in their smiles, or their frowns. I am there in the words they use to others. When they open doors for their neighbors. When they help complete strangers. When they pray. I am there. And I guess that has to be enough.  To know that in them, I will always live on. And somehow...that is enough.