A Scale From 1-10

I'll strive to be a 6. 

Not an 8, 9, or a 10. 

A 6 sounds good. 

Now, my story starts in my minivan. 

I'm driving the kid to her piano lesson and I've got NPR cranking in my car. 

My kids loooove me. 

The story is on healthcare. 

More specifically, individuals in Chinatown getting healthcare and healthcare insurance. 

The voices heard are from a faraway land that resonate a chatter of heritage and fireworks combined.  

The reporter speaks to a Chinese healthcare provider and she states that the Chinese people don't score the services they receive high. 

They never initially score something on a scale of 1-10 with a high number. 

If they score something high, then there's not room for improvement. 

An exceptional dinner, person, service gets maybe a high of 7. 

There's always room for improvement. 

I can dig this. 

I am always in need of improvement. 

I'm not talking about my physical improvement.

I mean, I sure could use updates in the hair, skin, weight, clothes departments. 

That's a given. 

I do own a mirror people. 

I'm thinking of my "human being on this planet who's contributing" improvement. 

I don't litter. 

I am kind to animals. 

I hold doors for strangers. 

I don't expect a thank you when one is deserved. 

I haven't been employed since 2006 (I think). 

I've been raising my children. 

I know for a fact some people who do not see this as a job. 

But, when you work outside the home you then PAY someone to do exactly what it is that you do for free, raise your children. 

And then I had to raise two children while one was on chemotherapy. 

Geesh, talk about WORK.

I've always wanted to be someone who's giving back to the world. 

Not someone who is just "here" and taking up space. 

When you have a job you are contributing. 

To society and to your psyche's health. 

Being a stay-at-home mom can be mind numbingly isolating. 

So, there are PTO moms. 

See...contributors. 

And it can be even more isolating if you aren't one of those PTO moms. 

I don't want to live without contributing. 

I am raising my children to be conscientious and thoughtful humans. 

To not litter. 

To be kind to animals. 

To hold doors for strangers. 

And I think that my actions will speak volumes to them one day. 

That I was with them when they were young and gave back. 

I nursed one through a major sickness and the other through normal childhood blechs. 

While giving back to society. 

And I think I'm a 6 on the scale from 1-10.

There's always room for improvement. 

More to do. 

More to share. 

More to learn. 

Food vs Cancer

Part two in a series for June entitled FOOD

from my blog group Homesteaders and Homeschoolers.

We don't eat bad at our home.
We don't always eat great, though.
There are times when I don't have any fruit for the kids and I start to get mom-guilt over it.
When I was pregnant with Zoe I knew I had to eliminate some things and add some foods to my diet to make sure the baby came out healthy.
No caffeine.
Lots of water.
More fruits and vegetables.
She came out full term and perfect at 7 pounds, 14 ounces.
I tried breastfeeding her, but it didn't work out.
I was stressed by it.
She was stressed by it.
We went to formula.
And boy, there's a lot of stress about failing at that!
But, our pediatrician assured me that I was not a bad mother and Zoe did thrive on formula.
She was a very chubby baby.
And she was never sick.

When she started to eat foods, I either made her food (I was the puree queen for a while at home) or bought organic canned baby foods.
Chad and I had decided that our daughter would be fed foods that didn't have pesticides or hormones in them.
Organic costs more, but she was worth it.
Nothing but organic milk went into her.
Organic cookies and crackers.
She drank organic grape and orange juice.
I didn't give her apple juice because my friend Kelly had had trouble with her son when he drank apple juice.
I remember her telling me that his behavior changed when he had the apple juice.
That's all I needed to hear...no apple juice.

Through her toddler years, she was never sick.
She would get the regular cold.
But no ear infections.
No strange rashes or bacterial infections.
Nothing at all.
When she started going to preschool, we kept up the organic foods, but also let in mainstream things.
She would go to McDonalds and get a Happy Meal.
But, she never drank soda.
And she never went for those super sugary drinks that some moms brought into school for preschool birthdays.
She asked for water.
Water has always been her favorite beverage.
We thought we had done everything right.
Everything right in terms of nutrition and good health for our first born daughter.


When she did start to get sick, when she started to feel lethargic and get headaches, we were shocked.
It was so unlike her to be ill.
Then we saw the bruises.
I made an appointment quickly with the pediatrician.
I made an appointment quickly because she had never been sick like this before.
She had always been super healthy.
The biggest problem she had had up to that point was a broken toe that summer.
Was the broken toe a pre-cursor to what was to be?
Was her body failing already and we just didn't realize it?
But no matter what we had done for her in the past, it was no match for cancer.
The organic foods we had stuffed into her body.
The pesticide-free fruits and veggies didn't matter.
Cancer was going to change our lives and our daughter and it didn't matter what we HAD done.
All that mattered now was what we WOULD do.

We kept up the healthy foods.
She still hates sugary drinks and soda.
When the steroids took over her body at the beginning of treatment and she would wake us up in the middle of the night because she was so, so, so hungry we did give in.
But not too much.
We would force her to go back to bed sometimes.
She would fight us, cry and tell us she was starving.
But we told her she wasn't, it was the medicine taking over her body.
That we wouldn't let her starve.
Food became not something that she enjoyed, but rather something that overtook everything else.
She would rather eat than color or play.
And it was salty foods that she craved.
It was a tough thing to watch.
I'm glad that it's over and that she's back to her old self again.
She still likes salty treats, but in moderation.
And her love of water has never wavered.

I remember when she was first diagnosed and how furious I was that this had happened to her because we had done everything right in terms of her nutrition.
A friend said to me "but the food choices you have been giving her will hopefully help her recover quicker. they will help her heal."
I think that she was right.
Maybe we couldn't fight against the inevitable.
She was probably bound to get cancer no matter what we had done in the past becuase that's just how her body was wired.
I call it "the kink in her DNA".
But we could continue with the healthy eating habits and try our hardest to counteract against the effects of the drugs.
Has it helped?
I think so.
But, I'm not a doctor or scientist.
I'm just a mom.
With a daughter with cancer.
But a daughter who is thriving today and who is a survivor.
A survivor who loves garbanzo beans and Dairy Queen.

7 Days

A few things from the last 7 days...

On Tuesday I witnessed our hermit crab Rascal remove his body from one shell to another and it was the most hideous thing I've ever seen.

His body that's encased within the shell is large, bulbous, white, and kinda wet.

I barfed in my mouth a bit and want a cat to scratch my eyes out.

On Monday Zoe had her monthly blood draw to make sure the leukemia is staying away.

It's still staying away (Yay!) and Dr. Niebrugge said she can come every two months for blood draws now (Double Yay!)

On Sunday we were in Columbus.

In Ohio, ya know.

And upon the recommendation of our dear friend Z, we had some ice cream.

But ice cream that takes your taste buds to a new and exciting place.

Where pistachios and honey intermingle.

And where goat cheese makes a cheesecakey flavor in your cup.

Brambleberry crisp enters your mouth and you let out a deep and satisfied sigh.

A place called Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams.

On Saturday we explored The Columbus Zoo and Aquarium with Chad's cousin Melissa and her family.

We saw koalas, elephants, manatees, okapi, gorillas, stingrays, moose, and polar bears.

It was a perfect day weather-wise and company-wise.

On Friday we drove through two bad rain storms and a dust storm.

For a few minutes, I thought I had time traveled back to the 1930's and I was a victim of The Great Dust Bowl.

That dust-dirt was some scary stuff.

Last Thursday...I don't remember last Thursday.

Wednesday of last week the horse vet came to give Buttercup her spring shots.

She got three shots and did the "bugged-out-eyes pony look" for each one.

Oh, and I had to follow the goats around to get a poo sample for the vet to check.

Update: Day 8...we have to make an emergency run to Petsmart this morning because Rascal has no shell! Jesse booted him out of his and he's hiding under the log tunnel in the crabitat and he's naked and vulnerable.

Ewwwwww.

A Big Idea From Lemons

I use Facebook a lot.
I like to read what's going on in my friends' lives.
I like seeing pictures of people's kids, pets, vacations.
I also like seeing what others are doing for the world of childhood cancer.
Fundraisers, magical gifts given to sick children, celebrity endorsers.
But it's the parents of children who have gone through the horrors of cancer who are the real go-getters.

Parents who have waited in the other room while their child receives radiation to their brain or spine.

Parents who watch their child become transformed by medications.

Medications that are simultaneously killing them and curing them.

Parents who lose sleep over the fact that this life their child is living is NOT the life they had envisioned for them.

I am one of those parents.

And it was on Facebook that I saw that another state in the U.S. had a license plate that it's citizens could purchase to raise money for childhood cancer research.

This license plate had raised MILLIONS of dollars for the cause.
I looked at the Illinois Secretary of State website.
There are license plates for breast cancer, ovarian cancer, autism, baseball teams, college teams, environmental plates and pet license plates.
But nothing to help raise funds for childhood cancer.
A group of diseases ranging from leukemia to brain tumors.
A group of diseases that kills more children than any other disease.
More than diabetes, pediatric AIDS, asthma, and cystic fibrosis combined.
The questions started rapidly popping up in my head...
Why don't we have a childhood cancer license plate in Illinois to raise funds for research?
Who can I ask about this?
Who do I know that would know what to do?
The answer appeared in my high school Junior Homecoming date and long time friend Mark.
The guy who brought my daughter a cooler full of snow to play with in her hospital room when she was fighting against cancer during a blizzard.

He's involved in politics in Springfield.

I asked him how I would go about doing this license plate thing.
He quickly replied with "I'm on it."

Since that day that I saw a Facebook post about another state's childhood cancer license plate my daughter and I have had the opportunity to meet Illinois State Senators, Illinois House Representatives, and the Governor himself.

We have been given a chance to give back to the science and doctors who have made it possible for our daughter to be in remission.

To give us hope for her future and for all children with cancer.

We wish we had never been put into this situation.

We wish our daughter hadn't been diagnosed with leukemia.

But she was.

And she's still here.

And we are trying to do great things with this sack of lemons she was given.

When life gives you lemons, you can make the most amazing lemonade around.

Going To Be Normal

Zoe is doing really well.
Her hair seems to be growing.
Her energy is way up.
She has normal sized bruises on her legs from playing out in the yard.
Any kind of bruising makes me nervous for her.
I look at the bruises and then keep looking at them to make sure they are going away in a traditional bruising kind of way.
For those that don't know...what peeked my curiosity about her in the September of 2010 were the large bruises she had developed on her legs and lower torso.
I'm talking 2 inch long bruises.
That were very dark.
And that never got better.
She is allowed to see her regular pediatrician now (all hail Dr. Benjamin Brooks!) if she has a sore throat or a sore ear or a sore anything.
Fevers still need to be addressed by the oncologist because she still has her port in place.
I just saw Dr. Brooks this morning (Gigi has a pussy red, pus filled, sore ear- poor girl) and I told him the news and we were both grinning like a couple of cats who spotted a fish flopping on the grass by the pond.
He saved her life and it's been a long time since he has been able to treat her.
She's a success story (knockin' on wood!) and we are fortunate that her cancer was caught when it was and that our pediatrician is a rock star.
I truly believe that if I had waited another week or two to take Zoe into the pediatrician in September of 2010 her outcome wouldn't be what it is today.
She more than likely wouldn't be here with us.

So, in honor of her life and the fact that she's doing so well now, I have a big treat for her...
I'm going to let her be a normal kid again.
I'm going to stop worrying so much.
I'm going to join her on her school field trip next week and we aren't going to worry about germs or fevers or "Hey, stop running!"
We are going to be like all of the other girl/mom groups that are out and about next week.
And the week after that.
And the week after that.
And the week after that...

Starting Life Upside Down

Part One in a series from my Homesteaders & Homeschoolers group blog topic..."When and Why to Start a Family"

Starting a family is something some girls dream about from childhood.
I was not one of those girls.
I didn't play with dolls.
During my early 20's I would emphatically state that I was NOT going to have kids.
I met my husband and we had a fast courtship (10 months).
After 5 years of hanging out with just him, traveling, enjoying each other's company, it happened.

I was in my early 30's and we were at Ravinia in Highland Park.
An outdoor music venue where you can sit on a blanket, drink beer, eat goat cheese and listen to Lyle Lovett, Elvis Costello, Peter Paul and Mary, or whoever happened to be making music that summer.
I don't remember who we were there to see, but I do remember what Chad said.
A young girl, probably 5 years old, ran by us on the sidewalk.
Chad said "isn't she cute?!"
And at that moment I knew that we needed to have a child.
And I hoped it would be a girl. 
We didn't have to try too hard.
We easily got pregnant (I now think I am one of those ladies that could get pregnant if my man looked at me and I wasn't on birth control.)
Pregnancy was easy, too.
I had an infatuation with Sour Tangerine Altoids.
I would eat them by the tin full.
I didn't get morning sickness (I think I barfed once or twice only at work, much to my co-worker Sarah's disgust!).
I didn't get stretch marks.
My skin looked FABULOUS!
The only issue occurred in the last trimester when Chad said I snored so loudly that he thought the neighbors were going to start complaining and he was forced to sleep in the other room.

Then about three weeks before my due date, I was told by the doctor that she thought this baby girl, still residing firmly up against both my lungs and my bladder, was upside down.
An external version was briefly talked about...briefly because once my OB started talking about trying to turn the baby around from the outside of my belly and that it had to be done in the hospital in case of trauma and they would need to get the baby out stat, I firmly said nope.
So a c-section was scheduled for February 11th.
Great.
Now I had to go back into my baby books and read about c-sections because I had skipped all of those chapters!
We arrived around 11:00 or noon and then proceeded to patiently wait until about 5:00 to go into surgery.
When you have a scheduled c-section you get bumped back when those ladies who are trying to vaginally deliver a baby suddenly can't.
So after the emergency c-sections were taken care of, it was our turn.  
I was getting super hungry since I hadn't eaten anything all day.
It was an easy procedure.
She came out kicking, really she did.
My doctor declared, "she just kicked me!" as she reached in to get her from my uterus.
I thought she sounded like a kitten mewing when she stared crying.
All I knew at that point was cats and dogs.
Now I had a person who sounded like a cat. 
I was beyond overwhelmed that a person had just been pulled out of my body.
And even more overwhelmed when we had to take her home and do this human rearing ourselves.

We named her Zoe.
Zoe is a Greek name that means LIFE.
And she is our life.

We have had to help save her life.

We have had to watch her little body and mind endure so much stress and trauma in this short life she's only begun to live.  

We can't wait to see what her life holds for her.

To be continued...

My interweb group of friends (Homesteaders & Homeschoolers) and I decided to do some posts together.
This month's theme (the rest of April anyway) is about our journey into motherhood.
Check out their stories, too.
Laura
Carla
Melissa

Growth

There's a huge aspect of receiving chemotherapy starting at the age of 5 and stopping at the age of 7 /12 that matures a person.

Tackling cancer head on when you don't even understand what cancer is.

Taking medications, sitting on MRI tables, living in ICU, not being allowed to eat because spinal tap #12 is coming up in the morning.

Being forced to grow up quicker than anticipated is hard on a kid's psyche.

So, we have tried extra hard to make sure that the other aspects of Zoe's life are as childlike as possible.

We have tried to create a magical world, a magic that was there before cancer.

A magic that I hope she will remember as she gets older.

Something that she will pass along to her children.

Memories of her youth that will always make her smile...

Knowing that fairies live under the toadstools that pop up in the yard.

Cherishing a note that Mother Nature left her when she was out in the yard.

Naming all large spiders that make fantastical webs on our porch Charlotte A. Cavatica.

Writing a letter to Santa every year and anticipating his reply that always comes.

Endless hikes in the woods, sometimes with only her and her sister doing the wandering.

Naming the deer that often sit in our yard, eat the birdseed, and who prance around with one another making us laugh. Names like Haykin, Fat Face, and Lizzie.

Hoping we see Haykin, Fat Face, and Lizzie each new spring.

Growth is important.

Whether it's mental growth, physical growth, or magical growth.

We have a lot to worry about still in terms of her health.

But we don't let her know too much about that.

Instead, we focus on whether or not the garden fairies will be able to plant enough lilies to wow us this summer.

I know they won't let us down.

Doing It All

Days and weeks can go by now and everything seems ordinary.
The girls go to school.
Dinner together every night.
Zoe has a test on telling time on an old fashion clock with hands.
Dance and piano lessons.
The only thing that really makes Zoe seem different nowadays is her hair. Or lack thereof.
So, when we have days where childhood cancer, specifically Zoe's journey through leukemia, spills open in front of us we become exhausted.
Again.
There's my overwhelming desire to give back to those that have saved my daughter.
Ways to do that are sharing our story with everyone.
Her story.
Via pictures and news stories.
All to bring awareness to the affects of childhood cancer and what we can do to help ease the pain of treatments, to find cures.
I have no intention of exploiting my daughter and her disease.
Her struggles.
Her dreams.
But if people don't SEE things like a little girl without hair, a little girl that has had to endure chemo, a little girl who has had to overcome tremendous turmoil, a little girl who misses her friend who didn't survive cancer, they just don't care.
People are visual creatures.
Photos and words have impact.
And if we can give back somehow to the doctors and the medicine that have saved our baby, we will do that.
Zoe may not remember a lot of what life was like during the initial onset of her cancer.
But we are providing her with memories of what she has overcome.
We are providing her with memories of the good we are trying to do in this big bad world that has allowed her to get cancer.
Memories of amazing encounters with people we wouldn't meet if cancer hadn't entered her world.
Zoe met the Governor of Illinois.
And a State Senator.
When she was eight years old.
The Governor got down to her eye level and spoke to her about her braveness, her good heart, and her courage to help others.
A memory that will last forever.
We want her to have these impressions in the forefront of her mind.
Not always needles, nausea, surgery.
We are giving her hope for the good she can do in this world.
Because she can do it all...

Gettin' Shit Done

I feel the need to give back.
My daughter is alive and doing well since her cancer diagnosis and her future looks bright.
Yes, I just knocked on wood.
My thoughts turn toward giving back to the cancer community.

Last fall we walked in the CureSearch for Children's Cancer Chicago Walk and our team "Hope and Hugs" raised close to $10,000.

I've currently teamed up with some moms from Chicago to help promote a project they started last year. 
They have created the Illinois Childhood Cancer Research Fund.
This fund has been created to provide Illinois childhood cancer researchers with monies to get research projects started.
To research better drugs, treatments, and eventually cures for the various cancers that affect children...everything from leukemia to brain tumors.
To raise this money, they have successfully lobbied to get a Illinois State Tax Checkoff Box on Illinois taxes this year.
But, $100,000 needs to enter the fund or it will be eliminated.
I have contacted various Central Illinois radio stations asking them to air a Public Service Announcement that has been made.
It is narrated by none other than renowned journalist Bill Kurtis! 
He donated his time for this great cause.
Amazing!

I was also interviewed by our local news station, WAND NBC 17, about the project.  
It's how I give back.
We have been lucky so far in our childhood cancer journey.  
Very lucky and we know it.

I have also contacted my good friend Mark who works in Springfield.
He does something very important over there at the state capital (not sure what, he wears a suit to work and he hangs with the Gov. on occasion!) and he's helping me with another project.
He's having legislation drafted up to get a Childhood Cancer Awareness Illinois license plate on the table.
A portion of the cost of the plate that you would buy to put on your vehicle will go towards a childhood cancer research program. 
I'm so excited about this!
When the draft is drawn up, he and I will meet with an Illinois State Senator because the draft needs to be backed by someone.
He's been talking to Andy Manar about this.
So, when the papers are drawn up I'll be heading over to Springfield with Zoe in tow to meet the new Senator with Mark and to plead our case.
For Zoe.
For Jake.
For the kids in Illinois with cancer.
To give back.
I've dubbed 2013 as  "The Year I Get Shit Done."
So far, so good...

Memories and Birthdays

Time can help things a lot.
A lot in terms of coping with the past and the trauma of living through a nightmare called childhood leukemia.
Watching your child change so drastically.
Dealing and struggling with something she doesn't understand.
It's been over two years since Zoe was diagnosed and it's gotten easier to remember the hard truths we lived through. 
It's also her birthday next week.
We can celebrate her being a part of our world yet another year.
And each year things get easier for her. 
Here's another part of her story...our family's story... 

We were living a normal life. 
Then the bruises showed up.
And the lethargy.
Something wasn’t right and my mom gut told me that I needed to call the pediatrician.
The diagnosis came fast and hard.
We were told to go right away to a hospital in the neighboring town.
They had a pediatric oncology doctor and we could only go home to pack a bag.
No time to think.
No time to say “we want a second opinion.”
When your child is diagnosed with leukemia there’s no time to second guess anything and you do as you are told.
Upon arrival at the hospital, we met the man who would be in charge of saving our daughter’s life.
She skipped to the bathroom to change from her school clothes into the traditional hospital gown one is given upon check in.
This one had lots of color and cute pictures of animals, though.
Something cheerful to wear in a hard cold place.
He later told us that her skipping surprised him.
Her blood counts were so high and off the mark that he predicted she would come crawling in, too tired to walk.
I later looked at this as a sign of hope.
She was strong.
She was a fighter.

But at the time, Chad and I were in a numb place.
Why were we here?
Why was this happening to our freckle-faced girl?
Is this all a big mistake?
Are they going to recheck her blood and see that it was a lab error?
Surely it's just a lab error.
We met two nurses and they would become very close to our family very quickly.
I don’t know if they got close with all of their patients.
I’m glad they were there that day.
I remember them asking us lots of questions…"how old is she, what are her symptoms, does she have any allergies?"
But, the thing that I remember the most was when one of the nurses said to me “we will be putting her under anesthetic right away to put the PIC Line into her arm.”
The tears immediately welled up in my eyes, making the room even more of a blur than it already was.
And then the look she gave me, reassuring me that she would be okay under anesthesia.
What stung me the most was knowing my daughter would be poked and have things attached to her little body and there was nothing I could do to help her.
There was nothing I could do anymore to help her.
Her life was out of my hands and I didn’t know if I would ever get it back.

Blue Minivans Are Everywhere!

When I was younger, as in when I began driving a car on the real road and not just in the driveway and I thought I was the cat's meow and began driving over 25 miles per hour, I wanted a Jeep.
A Jeep with big ass tires and no windows.
A free-wheelin', life to be loved, hair blowin' in my face and getting stuck in my lip-glossed kisser, kind of Jeep.
In black please.
My dad said no.
I would flip it he chimed in.
Had he noticed my careless carefree driving after all?
I, instead, drove a red Mazda.
Not nearly as exciting.
Sigh.

Ooooh!
A Jaguar!
I wanted to drive a sleek, polished till I could see the workins of my own brain on it's shiny exterior, look what I have accomplished in my college-educated life, Jaguar.
In black please.
I bought a burgundy 4-door Honda.
Not as sleek, but it sure was dependable.
Dependable is so dull, though.
Dependable is way cheaper, though.
Sigh.

A wagon.
I wanted a wagon, as in look what a hipster I am, with my made in the good ol' U S of A, gas friendly, luggage rack on the roof because I'm a traveler damn it, Subaru.
In black please.
I have a blue Toyota minivan.
It's roomy, sure.
There's room for all four of us, plus grandma, grandpa, and the dogs.
Sometimes the minivan holds goats.
Classy.
There are so many of these blue minivans in town that I've had to outfit mine in stickers just so I can find it in the Target parking lot.
Sigh.

Zoe recently told me that when she grows up and starts to drive that she wants a minivan.
WHAT?!
A MINIVAN?!
Are you drunk again, kid?!
NO!
What about that Mini-Cooper we just passed?
Oh, look at that cool little Italian Fiat!
Isn't that awesome?!
You won't be driving anyone else around but your sister.
You don't need a large, full of garbage, smells like a dog fart, minivan.
That's what old ladies like your mother drive!

I hope she gets over that idea and learns to dream in more exciting and out of the box ways.
I do totally appreciate her sensibilities toward space and comfort and for the ability to haul large amounts of crap around town.
And there's the fact that she has an affinity to be like her mom.
I know that that won't last forever.
But I want her to dream of a life that's more shiny, fast, glossy, and just out of reach.
Something to aspire to be.
To live a life full of Maseratis and Volvos.
In black please.

Side note:
Zoe saw me writing this and stated that she would first like to have a scooter (like her "aunt" Laura) and would use a Volkswagon Bug when it's cold out to drive to school.
The minivan would be when she's graduated from school.
I sense a tinge of boldness there.
Sigh...

I'll Take Those Heels With A Side of Sassy, Please

I don't want to be a frumpy mom.
At all.
I don't want to wear jeans everyday.
I don't want to wear a crappy bra anymore.
I'm more than that.
I don't want to forget who I was before I had kids.
The funky artistic person I used to be.
The dancer in me.
The writer in me now.
I did wear black to my own wedding for pete's sake.

I believe that if my girls see me and see that I love who I am and I don't care what others may think of my style, then they too will be more creative and free-spirited.
Uniqueness is not overrated.
It's the thing to do.
To be.

Living in the city helps you to be yourself more, I think.
You go out more and see people and you want to look your best.
In the country, you see the goats.
And the lady at the bank, but only through the triple pan glass from the car.
There's no lively walking down the street to a restaurant, showing of my new shoes anymore.
Now it's a hurried walk through a parking lot crowded with minivans and pickup trucks.

Winter doesn't help either.
I do enjoy the bundling up early Fall invites into my life.
Sweaters under blazers with a jaunty scarf.
But, I'm ready for ankle pants, heels, and jazzy tops.
I need to vamp up my hair with some accessories I think.
I need to find my style again.
I need to find the girl who used to wear flowered pants without a second thought.
I need to find the girl who used to wear orange.
I need to remember who I was before I became a hospital mom.
A mom whose sole purpose had become to save her daughter.
Hair didn't matter.
Shoes didn't matter.
We have fought the good fight and it seems we are winning.
I do know what's really important in my day to day.
Life.
I get it.
Really, really get it.
But, I think I can bring out the lipstick and dazzling earrings again.
I can wear the turquoise jewels with wild abandonment.
I can find myself and reintroduce my funky side to this plain Jane who has taken over.
But I do think I'll leave the flowered pants to the younger crowd.   

  

Arms To Hold You Up

I try not to read other people's stories of their child's cancer journey.
I certainly don't look on mainstream cancer websites.
At the beginning of Zoe's journey with leukemia I did peruse the Leukemia and Lymphoma "my child has cancer" chat rooms.
It was horrible.
A lot of very angry parents, spilling their guts about the horrible things happening to their children.
Many searching for someone, anyone, to reach out to them.
It was too much to read.
Reading blog posts from other parents is heart wrenching as well.
I try not to do it.
But today, I read one that took me back.
Took me back to a time that I dealt with already with my own child.
A time that I mustered through.
In a fog, really.
We plodded through each day.
Taking it one second at a time.
I can look back at it now and it wasn't a pretty thing to remember.

Zoe must have been just a few months into treatment and she was still trying to go to school.
She was having a hard time walking because of the chemo.
Her feet weren't cooperating at all.
It happens to most kids who get this certain drug.
So, I was waiting out front of her school like I did every day at 2:50.
There was one step she needed to get down.
Only one step.
Only one step separated her from the trials of school and her mother's arms.
But it was a mountainous step for her.
Her teacher had ahold of someone else's hand that afternoon.
Zoe was on her own to get down that one step.
But she couldn't do it.
She fell down that one step.
And just laid there on her stomach, not able to move at all.
I ran full speed to her, probably knocking some other kids out of the way.
To help her recover her dignity.
Because that's what she had really hurt falling down that step.  
It was horrible to see that day and it feels one hundred percent more horrible to my heart to think about it again.
She was so different from the little girl I had dropped off at school only two months before.
She was swollen from steroids, almost bald, unable to bound around like her peers.
I think she stopped going to school shortly after that incident.
She had a home tutor and did great on her own pace at home.
In between blood draws from a home nurse, trips to the hospital, and a feeling of constant nausea, she did excel and enjoyed learning.  

We are getting our girl back.
But not a day goes by that I don't get angry that this whole ordeal had to happen to her.
She had to miss out on so much. 
Her hair is still not cooperating.
Her face still seems like someone else's at times...she's now having skin issues from I don't know what.
She's emerging from her foggy chemo brain.
Interacting better with everyone.
Her energy is up.
But, I won't forget that day she fell at school.
Not for the rest of my life.
We always drive our kids to and from school.
They don't take a bus.
Because sometimes that face that you see at the end of the day, mom's face, is more important than anything else.
That face reminds you that you are more than cancer.
And there are arms to hold you tight... 

Just A Glimpse, Please...

Do you ever really look at someone and say, "I wonder what it's like to live in their body?"
I do that a lot.
I see my kids and I wonder what it's like inside there.
To fully experience what they see, feel, smell, think.
I do the same to my husband.
He's a man, I'm a woman.
Big differences, ya know.
What's it like to be in his body?
To walk with his gait.
To speak in his voice
To have no hair on my head, but hair on my chest.
I know him really well, but I'll never fully know him.
With Zoe, she's been a long chapter in Alice Through The Looking Glass.
Her world has been so bonky, out of whack.
She's just now starting to really play with her sister.
To use her imagination in it's fullest form.
To show and be more than just her inner self.
What's been going on in there for these last few years?
Has it all been a haze, full of mashed up ideas and memories that will never be realized?
She doesn't remember a lot of things.
From the past, I mean.
I want to crawl in her ear, see through her eyes, taste with her tongue.
Being John Malkovich is a movie I can connect with, for sure.
I don't want to stay, it will be a short visit.
But, alas, I'll have to be content with living in my own self and being an outside observer.
To my kids.
My husband.
You.

Our Year End Recap

It's the last day of 2012.
It's been quite a year for our family.
An end to chemotherapy for our now 7 year old.
Something I thought I would never have to say, yet couldn't wait to say!
We are hoping 2013 is full of nothing but good news for her.
Good news and good health.
And now, a pictorial review of our latest year that's just about behind us...

We celebrated our daughters turning another year older... 

We partook in holiday fun...

We went out of town to visit exciting new places and to also see familiar faces...

Little Rock

NASA

Galveston, Texas

state fair



Closer to home, Zoe represented Camp COCO at the Midwest Charity Horse Show and had a great week on Lake Bloomington with her fellow campers...

We heard two piano recitals...

Zoe participated in horse riding and standing lessons...

We decorated a tree in Central Park with our family for childhood cancer awareness...  

Gigi went to school for the first time...

And Zoe got eyeglasses...

We rounded up about 40 of our closest friends and family.

Friends who came from near and as far away as Texas and Omaha.

We gathered to walk for a cure.

To unite for hope and hugs.  

To remember Jake, who left us far too soon.

We battled on through the intense heat and drought of the summer by cannonballing into our pool and canoodling with our pets, including our newest addition Willie...

Zoe encountered fewer hospital stays in 2012, but they still existed for her. 

She was able to be "normal" though as she played softball and danced.



Zoe with her friend Zoe



We are hoping that the new year brings us much joy, more travel, more time with friends, and a new found happiness of childhood for Zoe.

Thanks for reading and Happy New Year!