A fall birthday...

This is a long time coming due to a missing, then non-working camera cable...but here we go finally!

 

Baby girl's first birthday party - obviously having a baby to celebrate in the month of October is going to be wonderful...for me at least, maybe not for her eventually. So I had to have a fall themed party - what else? And it was actually pretty stress free - I mean, the house is already decorated for fall/halloween, so I just had to add some things here and there...

 

Easy decoration - tissue paper pom poms

A book for guests to sign

The welcome wagon...

 

Caramel apple party favors - easy and delicious

More easy tissue paper pom poms...I think they are a little classier than balloons right?

 

Crafts to keep Jack and his friends occupied for a bit

The birthday girl...still deciding that she could crawl faster than walk at that point...although that has started to change this past week.

 

 

Marshmellow fondant leaves - this recipe is soooo easy and doesn't taste that bad!

 

Birthday girl could not understand why everyone was singing to and staring at her at that point

Hmmm, this feels interesting...

But I don't think I will actually taste it for a while...

  

The boys are over celebrating a one year old girl....

Family shot...Happy first birthday to my baby girl - I eagerly look forward to many more with you.

 

One year ago...

 

A year ago, a large team of NICU doctors stood in a delivery room with nothing to do, amazed that this month-early girl needed not one iota of help and was in fact healthier and bigger then many term babies. To my little chemo-sabe, my little buggy boodles, you gave me more strength than you will ever ever know and I look forward to many many more birthdays with you. Happy happy first birthday my girl.

 

 

 

 

I wish for you so many things I cannot even articulate them. I wish for you the world. I wish for you joy and pain and laughter and tears. I want to see you dance and sing and grow and learn. I want to hug you and kiss you a billion more times. I wish to see you follow your big brother to school. I wish to see you do wonderful things and get into trouble. I long to see those amazing blue eyes ingest everything they can. My big girl, I wish to see you grow up.

Thank you for this year.

What I think about the Pink...

Since I am "lucky" enough to have to share my most favorite month with breast cancer awareness month, well, here are my thoughts. As most of you are aware the world has been splashed with a heaping tablespoon of pepto bismol pink - which makes some of us feel about the same as the people in the pepto commercial. Not everyone...much of our cancer tribe has differing views on the subject...some loathe it, some embrace it, and some like me are conflicted about it.

I can honestly say pre-bc I didn't give pink-tober a whole lot of thought. Even though my mom and my grandmother have both had breast cancer, it still didn't really impact me...my mom had what I term (and please save your speeches, I know people who would stab me for saying this) "cancer-lite", she had stage 0, which just resulted in lumpectomy, no chemo, no rads, nothing else. My grandmother had a mastectomy - no chemo, no rads-  but that was over 30 years ago. We still have no idea what stage, what kind, nothing other then it never returned...people just didn't really talk about things like that back then. So honestly, other than seeing my football teams with their pink accoutrement's and seeing pink ribbons everywhere, the whole pink-washing didn't really effect my awareness all that much - likely my undoing. Because I always expected that I would get cancer, I was prepared to be vigilant...in my 40s. I expected it when my grandmother and mom got it, in my late '50s. Certainly not at 37 and most definitely not while pregnant. Surprise - joke was on me!

So here I am (I don't count last year because during pink-tober I was hip deep in trying to make sure this baby came out ok, prepare for upcoming mastectomy, continued chemo, and not quite concerned about much else) looking at the pink-washing as...an observer? a participant? an unwilling consort? I don't know. What I do know is that most of the products that slap a pink ribbon on their label are things I wouldn't eat/drink/ingest in any way, shape or form. You think I'm eating/drinking any of that processed crap after I've had CANCER?? No.

Do I appreciate that people walk for and with me at the Komen walk? Of course I do. Would I mind if people thought of me when seeing a ribbon or wore pink in honor of me or showed support that way? of course not!

What I do know is that not wearing a bra on Oct. 13th is in no way showing any sort of awareness, support or camaraderie with those who have breast cancer - it's just making you look, ummm, well, not good likely. (Should we all be going commando in support of prostate cancer awareness? Have all the young starlets flashing their hoohas at the cameras really been supporting cervical cancer awareness all along?) What I do know is playing some dumb game about the color of your bra on facebook is not doing anything other than...playing some stupid game on facebook. If you want to sport a pink ribbon, especially in honor or memory of someone, be my guest. If you want to donate money, please do your research and find the charities whose money does the most good. If you want to make me happy- learn about the signs, check yourself, learn about density and mammograms, advocate for yourself and please go to the doctor if anything is ever amiss - remember what I've been through this year. Know that behind the pretty pink ribbon, there are bald heads and scars and drains and IVs, there is pain and tears and not always happy endings. Cancer is not pretty, it's not pink, it's not sexy, it's awful. I will have my beautiful October tainted pink forever...you don't have to.

Decorations...

"Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns." - George Eliot
 

I was getting out my Halloween decorations today and realized I hadn't seen my things in TWO years, not just one. That amazed me, and saddened me, and at the same time filled me with joy because I get to see them again and I was overjoyed - I'm not kidding, I adore my Halloween decorations. I love Halloween and fall - I LOVE them. I stopped and thought about where I was last year right now and also realized that last year, today, was my last A/C chemo. I was heavily pregnant and bald, too big and tired to even attempt decorating or celebrating my season, and waiting - worried - about what is now this teething, extremely loud, hilarious, beautiful and healthy little monster - the one who has smile at times that is simultaneously hysterical and the epitome of pure bliss.

 

 

So as I went through my multitude of Halloween boxes in the garage and found forgotten treasures, I was able to look back at the past year and remember where I was - which is a feat considering my short term memory is still shot - and see how far we have all come, and breathe it all in, and smile like my girl.

A whole lot of growing up going on...

A little piece of my heart broke off today, but it also burst into about a thousand pieces of pride...

 

 

Since before Jack was born, the one thing I have been SO excited about was him going to school. Not to get him out of the house (although let's face it...), but because the start of school just meant the opening of a world of opportunity for him. I completely get Meg Ryan's giddiness at the line "a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils"... I literally cannot wait for him to bring home lists of schools supplies in the coming years, permission forms to sign, books to cover (okay, I get that it may be an Ipad to cover), new friends to talk about, crunchy leaf days to be tattooed in his memory. Yes, yes, I understand there will be nights when I am gluing some stupid diorama together (am I completely anachronistic? do kids even do these things anymore??) and I will be of no help to him past third grade times tables, but still. The possibilities, the reading under the covers late at night, the love of just plain learning something new - it all lies ahead for him and I am going to suck in and be grateful for every single moment of it that I can.

 

Little big girl here - 11 months old.

 

Top two teeth finally appearing - resulting in not so great nights.

 

Eating everything in sight.

 

Standing up. Soooooo close to walking.

 

Growing blond hair.

 

Loves her brother madly.

 

Cannot believe she has been here almost a year, my little chemo-sabe.

20 years...

I'm not quite sure how it's possible that I have my 20 year high school reunion this weekend. Granted, I may not feel like high school was just yesterday...in fact, most of it I have blocked out I believe...but I do feel like I just went to college yesterday so for me to realize that was 20 years ago this month that I started college is MIND BOGGLING.

I am excited to see whomever shows up. I went to a pretty small Catholic girls high school, so our reunion will consist of a luncheon - that I didn't have to plan! Yay! Because funny enough, as much as I despised high school (and not for the fact that it was all girls or Catholic or anything like that, just for the plain old fact that I would have hated high school anywhere) I ended up planning our 10 year reunion. Still not sure how that happened. While I hated high school with a passion, I didn't hate the girls I went to school with. I can't say that I had many super close friends, but I was friends with a lot of the girls. I tended to float amongst the circles I think. Plus, there were quite a few of us who had been in school together since first grade so whether we hung out every day or not, we still knew quite a bit about each other. Anyway, out of a pretty small graduating class of I believe 105, give or take a few girls, we have had some bad luck bestowed upon us. I know I'm one of at least 5 girls who have had or are actively fighting cancer, and we have all had different types, not one the same as far as I know.

We lost our sophomore biology teacher, Susan Todd Hurst, to breast cancer right after our ten year reunion and I believe she was our age or a few years younger than us when she passed. We were her first class when she started teaching and I was happy she was able to come to our reunion, as sick as she was. She had two young boys when she passed, and I've thought of her quite often over the past few years.

We are also missing two girls from our class. One I had gone to school with since first grade. Monica Ruiz. She had the longest hair ever, and she lived down the street from the girl who I was best friends with for quite some time in grammar school, so while we weren't close friends, she would invite us over in the summer to use her pool and hang out. I have to say even though I went to school with Monica for 12 years I don't know very much about her. As I said, we weren't close friends but we certainly were not enemies - we just didn't hang anywhere near the same circles. A few years back, of few of the kids I went to school since first grade with found out that she had committed suicide - she had been diagnosed with schizophrenia shortly after high school graduation and just didn't see an end to the misery according to a website post her husband had written. Really quite a sad situation and I'm sorry she had to go through that.

Our other lost friend is Dr. Naomi Fukushima. Naomi was a kick, she was a tiny, petite little thing who was quiet until she let a zinger go and then it was on. She was spunky. And smart. We had quite a few classes together over the years and I would think considered each other friends, at least school friends. She was at our reunion, had been married very shortly before that I believe. Then about a year later was diagnosed with an extremely rare pulmonary sarcoma, which I believe was so rare there was something like less than 200 diagnosed cases of it. She fought and fought and fought, but from what other friends have said, she was a doctor, her dad was a doctor, and she knew. Our reunion was in fall of 2003, by May of 2005 she died. Again, cancer, you beyond suck.

So I want them to know that they are not forgotten, and will be remembered when we get together this weekend, and they will be toasted. And I hope to God they are looking down, intervening with someone, saying you have enough of us for a while, you don't need any more of the Class of '93 anytime soon.

An up week...

Except for the dreaded "it's about to turn into fall everywhere else except for Southern CA, let's have our 90 degree weather now" time, along with the realization that I dislike August but holy-crap-August-is-already-over-and-I-have-a-month-and-a-half-to-plan-a-first-birthday-party-holy-shiz, this is an up week on the roller coaster of my life.

Let's play catch-up. The retreat - the retreat was great. I probably would have appreciated it more had I been a little further out from the whole deal...I'm still dealing with and processing way too many emotions, thoughts, fears, etc. to appreciate a woman who is supposed to be talking about body image telling me what to do about sex after cancer having never had cancer herself. Other than that, the nutrition lady (carrot juice, in a word-  yuck - but a 10 year study behind it regarding 50% reduced recurrence and the carotene levels in the blood, so yeah, me and carrot juice are new pals :P) was great, the facial and massage - awesome (mindtrip overcome), the yoga lady - fabulous, and the place was great, the weather was great (for me),  and the girls were great too. So thank you Image Reborn for providing a great weekend!

Here are some pictures of the place - this is at The Canyons, who I believe donated the penthouses for the weekend...

Apparently Will Smith used to stay in this penthouse when he stayed in Park City, before buying is own house...this is NOT my room :(

Bathroom bigger then two of my kitchens, honest to goodness...again, not my bathroom

This was the fireplace on my side...perfectly nice penthouse...not quite as big as the other one..oh well :)

In other more mundane yet terribly exciting news for me...we have a fully potty trained boy in the house which if you have kids, you know how exciting that is. Jack has been teetering on fully training for months now but resisted, well, let's just say he's been peeing for months in the potty. Nothing else though and only at home, no matter how much I begged, cajoled, bribed. (Jack does things at his own pace, decided when he wants to do them, and when he decides then that's it, he does it. He is here to teach me patience and how to let go.) Now, he goes like a pro, AND finally went in a public place this weekend (in the bathroom in a public place, let me clarify) - whoooohooooo!!! 

Sister girl did NOT have good nights while on vacation. I got two full wonderful nights of sleep at the retreat and came back to two barely-got-maybe-three-hours-nights before we came home. Well, actually I'm not going to say anything because I am highly superstitious about the sleep thing and wish not to jinx myself so check back in a month for an update.

Shoulder X-ray from last week was clear so it appears that, thank goodness, my shoulder is just retaliating against me constantly lifting a 17 pound baby up to smell her butt to see if she pooped or not. Sorry, just a fact.

Football has almost started (believe me, I am well aware of the reality of my team this year but I will still keep the faith), Pumpkin Spice Lattes are back (soon I will live in a place where the return of PSL's coincides with the return of fall, not hell), and there are parties to plan, costumes to make, candles to smell, and pumpkins to dream of. Let's get busy livin'.

A small peek into what cancer does to your mind...

As I have mentioned, I am going to a cancer retreat this weekend and am completely looking forward to it. Until a couple days ago when I was in tears at random times. And I finally connected why. One of the activities included in the retreat, in most cancer retreats, is a message. Totally awesome, right? Something most people completely look forward to and pay good money for. Except to me it's an impending panic attack. Because I finally realized that on some deep level I equate getting a massage with getting cancer.

By the time I was diagnosed, the tumors under my arm were pressing on a nerve that ran down my arm and also causing a bad pain in my shoulder. The night before my ultrasound/biopsy, the night before my world started to fling itself off of its axis, the night before I, for all intents and purposes, lost my innocence to be ridiculously yet appropriately cliche about it, I had my husband rub my neck and my shoulders because it hurt so much, still completely and contentedly oblivious as to what lay underneath and ahead. Since then, even if I have had a pain anywhere, whereas most people would say, "Honey, please rub my shoulders" I completely ignore it, because to validate the pain might mean validating that "something" is there again. Because rational or not, somewhere I have always thought Oh my God, what if him rubbing my shoulders that night caused something to break open and spread further? So there you have it....

On top of that, I have a pain in my shoulder. Not a bad pain, not even shooting pain, just sort of a sporadic irritant; something I would never in a million years have gone to the doctor for before. Could it be from repeatedly lifting a 17 lb baby's butt to my face to smell her diaper? Could it be from the bunch of lifting and reaching I did last weekend? Could it be from holding the baby with my non-dominant arm because my left arm is just tired? Not in my world! Because after cancer, every pain, every ache, every upset stomach, every muscle spasm is cause for your mind to start racing at what it could be. So I'm fitting in a quick trip to the doctor tomorrow morning, hopefully for a "you know you have a cancer patient, please set my mind at ease" appointment before our trip. Which I desperately need. I am so exhausted, mentally, emotionally and physically.

10 months.

As with your brother, I am amazed at how lovely, how striking you are, that I produced you. It truly awes me.

You crawl like a lightening bolt, like a water walker hovering just above a solid surface...you "talk" to your brother, you two screech at each other like howler monkeys. You are saying mama but I'm not sure if it's just one of your noises or if you mean it yet. Eating is getting better...sleeping, well, I'm crossing my fingers that the day, or night I should say, is coming. You exhaust me and I am blessed for that. I am sure I will appreciate it more later on. Love you little buggy.

Faith.

Amelia-Rae Faith Thomas. There is a reason her middle name is Faith. It was to be Grace, but a few days before I was to have her, I turned to my husband and said I'm changing it to Faith...I need a little more Faith right now, and he said Ok, I like Faith a lot. So there you go. You know my feelings on the word hope - I don't like it, it's too impotent to me. It requires little of all involved...I hope...okay, so what? But faith to me, faith takes work and action.

I don't discuss many personal things on this blog...okay, wait, that's dumb, my family and health, two main topics, are highly personal, but I'm assuming you know what I mean. But for some reason I have been thinking about my faith a lot lately. I am Catholic - that may lose me three of the five readers I have right now, but so be it. I may not be necessarily a practising Catholic at the moment, but that is more logistic than for any theological reason. No, I don't agree with everything my church says, in fact, I disagree with a lot of it, but that being said, I am Catholic, always will be, and will raise my children as such. I haven't been to church in quite a while, and know for a fact if I went now all I would do would be to sob in the back for an hour and I really prefer not to do that. The church of my childhood, a large, stately neo-gothic grandiose building would allow such sobbing with open arms, as the church is large enough to sit in a quiet alcove or far in the back and not be noticed. My current church, a building far more post-modern, would say, ummm, you are seated way too closely to the person next to you to use their shoulder as a tissue, so please refrain from causing a scene, thank you.

Anyway, my point being...faith. So I haven't been to church in quite a while...well, Christmas and Easter...I'm not a heathen for goodness sakes, but other than that, bless me father for I have sinned....it's been a long time. I pray, and have prayed quite often over the past year, usually to Mary...she has seen me through much of this crap and I am grateful to her, as a mother who just wanted to see her son grow up. But I have found my religion again lately, in a strange place. I'm SO not the type who has ever said "Oh I love this band so much they are a religion to me, or oh, I love this band, it's a religious experience." I never worshipped at the altar of Morrissey or any such thing. But I have been listening to my Mumford and Sons cd's lately and all I think while I listen is that "this is like going to church" for me. It's literally like being in the physical building of a church again for me, and it is amazing. I can be in my car and cry and listen to these words that are so religious and beautiful, and I am so thankful. It's not Christian music, it's religious music,and I am in love. I wish I could tell them that even though they don't mean to, that they may eschew the "religious" music title with a passion, which I completely understand, and which I believe due to their quite evangelical upbringing, that they have given me back my religion. They have created a safe place for me to go to "church" and be able to cry and be sad and find my faith again. So thank you Marcus Mumford...even though you may not have intended to, you gave this girl back her place to be at church, to have her faith and her religion, which was very much needed.