8/17/15

There are days we will remember for the rest of our lives. These days include your first kiss, graduation, meeting the one who holds your heart, becoming engaged, getting married, finding out your pregnant with your first child, holding your baby for the first time, hearing of a loved one's passing from this life to the next, and hearing your mom tell you that she has cancer.

As those words came from her mouth, I was so filled with confusion I almost started laughing and asked if she was serious. I searched her face to give me some inclination that there was jest in her statement. The expression was flat and scared. "When did you find out?"
"This morning, the doctor called and told me." She suspected... and perhaps she knew all along. She was bleeding for several, several months. She started saying things like, "Jill, what if it's cancer?" Mama is smart... she knows more than I give her credit for... I, being a little more laid back would say, "Mama, it's not cancer... even if it is, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it." I thought back to all those times I told her it wasn't and encouraged her to bring it up to Dr. Milder, her primary doctor. I don't know that she ever did.

I asked about the type, which I assumed was uterine (and it was), what stage, what options we had to combat the cancer. Not many questions had answers, but it was only the day of the diagnosis. We still don't know what stage. We won't really know anything more until after tomorrow when they take out her lady bits. It's gonna be a long day of waiting and silence.

She walked in the living room and sat on the couch. She said, "I'm not afraid of this cancer. I'm not afraid of dying. I've lived a good, long life, and I know where I'm going." At this point her voice started to break and tears welled up in her eyes as she said she would be with her sister. Her fears fell to telling Daddy and how it would happen. She's always said that he can't be alone, swiftly followed by the obligatory "don't be mad at Daddy if he gets remarried." Sigh... MOM!

That day two and a half weeks ago, I came to the realization that Mama lost her mama when she was my age and had a baby (me) no bigger than Jack. It wasn't from cancer, but I started thinking, Mama lost Nana when she was my age, and I may just lose my mama soon. I didn't know my grandmother on my mother's side of the family.

I waited until the following day to tell my friends about it. Wanted the diagnosis day to be just for my family. It was hard finding out. The words didn't seem surreal, and that's what I expected. I expected to feel a little light headed and when I didn't feel that, I thought to myself, "oh, my God, this is real life."

By Wednesday, two days after diagnosis, I decided that I had to trust that God knew what He was doing, the doctors will know what they are doing, and that medicine will do what it's meant to do. Even if it didn't, the modern miracles of medicine are far better than they were 30 years ago when Nana passed away. Of course I had those, "please God, don't let my mama die" prayers. Totally selfish. Totally.

I had to get back to "normal" as soon as possible, I told myself. So I stopped moping. I had/have a good support group in my family, circle of friends that I've had for [a] decade(s), and new friendships that have formed through social media. Several of which have relatives that were diagnosed with and beat cancer. The right people are in my life to keep my head on straight and give me hope.

I think because my mom handled the news so well, I did, too. I was so distraught that Monday. My world turned upside down. I didn't want to be with Jack, I didn't want to eat. All I wanted to do was lie in bed and cry. We always think of our parents as invincible. We never want to think of the day when they won't be just a phone call away or a walk through the yard in my case. She's my best friend and absolutely irreplaceable. We pray for the best tomorrow. They take away an unwelcome part of my mother and we'll find out more 'tails (cred to Tom Haverford). So if the cancer has spread to more than just her uterus, then radiation therapy will begin. Otherwise, she's just going to have the surgery. I trust that this is a pretty routine procedure and that I won't have to worry too much.

Thanks for reading this little bit of my life. Don't feel sorry for us. Please pray for the doctors, pray for my mom, dad, and my brothers and me. And if anyone wants to stop by Cabrini Hospital tomorrow, I'm sure Dad and I wouldn't be too terribly upset!

peace and quiet

I was hoping to get some peace and quiet this afternoon and possibly a nap. I've got the apartment all to myself so I decided that I'd put my head on a comfy pillow and try to catch some zzz's. My mind starts racing with thoughts that I'd much rather leave alone. Instead of resting, I'm doubting myself, my relationships with my friends, my worth, all kinds of stuff that I shouldn't even be doubting or stressing over. My mind sometimes brings me to dark places I tend to forget are there. My self worth seems to be the star of the show, but not some grand and glorious show. It seems to be more of a roast of sorts. My self worth is put on display with every ugly thing there is in it laid bare.

In my last post, I mentioned that I shouldn't find my identity in any of the ideas that I have parading around in my mind now. I can't say that I've got it perfectly figured out. I can't say that I am cured. When I'm in the moment, I honestly don't know how to pull myself from those negative thoughts. I don't know how to turn myself around and think those positive thoughts. I keep thinking, "what do I do now?"

Continue to pray for me. I'm a broken woman. Sometimes I feel so useless and wasted. Today is one of those days. As a friend of mine told me once when I was feeling like this: Father God is still good. He wants to give His children good things. Jesus died on the cross. So, what does that say about you?

on becoming 30

On 15 January, I turned 30. Usually, I hear of women who face emotional distress when they reach their 30th birthday. I didn't feel any different than I had turning 24, 26, 28, or 29. They were all just a number to me. A week before my birthday, I started thinking about what I imagined my life to look like by the time I was 30. Imagining I was still living in Seattle with my husband and working for the same roofing business where I would have still been employed. I'd be a fit, a young mom, hopefully renting a house with enough room for a three-member family with a dog. What have I got to show for myself and my goals? I'm back in the cramped little apartment that Chase and I were in before we moved, and we had absolutely no intention of ever moving back to Louisiana. Being let go ten days before my 29th birthday and feeling that there was no other option but to come back to Louisiana. We have struggled to survive the entire year since we've been back. We've been clinging so tightly to what we have that everything seems to slip right out of our clinching white fists. My journey to fitness came to an abrupt end when we moved away from the city life. There's nowhere to feel safe and walk in this rundown town. And the only option is to drive everywhere, since the nearest decent grocery store is 15 miles away.

I've always been a dreamer. I never dreamed I'd be stuck in a rut with a dependent and a fur-child. Sharing my frustration with anyone seemed so childish that I've kept it inside. I don't want to share my insecurities because I don't want to seem like I'm so needy. I want to be independent and I want to be able to love my family well. I don't want it to seem like I've got regret hanging over my head. The problem is, it's all there. It haunts me when I'm left to my own devices. Thinking about what I had planned so many years ago makes me feel like I've absolutely missed every goal I had set.

I have been reminding myself continuously that I am not a failure. I didn't end up in Louisiana because Chase and I failed at something. I'm not a stay at home mom because I failed in the retail/business world. I'm not unhealthy. I'm not drowning. I'm not a failure. I have, in no way, let anyone down. Plans change. I have to remember that what I do or don't do at 30 isn't a direct reflection of my success in life, love, or finance. What it is a reflection of is my trust that I am where I'm supposed to be: that God is who He says He is, that I am who God says I am, and that I trust His will and direction for my life. Nothing is a mistake. I may not understand why things happened the way they have happened in the last year, but I definitely trust that I am loved, treasured, and fearfully and wonderfully made. I take God's breath away.

So, reader, please don't look at getting older and steering away from your plans for your life as a disappointment or failure. Look at it as God's way of pointing you in the direction He wants you to go. Just ask what He has you do, and follow His lead. In Psalms, He tells us, "I will guide you along the best pathway for your life. I will advise you and watch over you." In Proverbs, "Seek his will in all you do, and he will show you which path to take."

Thanks for reading, and thanks for letting me get that off my chest.

Jill