Okay, I'm over it. I needed to write that post and get it out of me. But no more tears (well, maybe a few more, in the shower, where no one can see them). I will put on my big girl panties - which I'm actually literally wearing considering I gave birth less than a month ago - take my interim fake poof pads (I swear that's what the lady called them yesterday) and move on with this whole thing. I will move on to more chemo, which I understand and can process, try to ignore the radiation topper on the cake, and focus on the fact that I have an amazing 2.5 year old at home who's new favorite phrase is "Ohh nooooo" in a voice that makes me both double over laughing and melt at the same time, and a beautiful, perfect infant who I can't wait to watch grow and learn and sleep through the night.
I can't sing when I'm pregnant. Doesn't work. And this pregnancy unfortunately didn't lend itself to many feelings of attempting any joyful rounds of song. But I sang today. I sang along with a CD while Jack ate dinner, and I remembered that I can sing, and that it makes me happy, and that I have a voice. That my voice is still strong and it still has a place, and it has promises to keep and miles to go before it sleeps.