2008 October | I Should Be Folding Laundry

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Postcard – Ohio

October 18th, 2008

Greetings from Ohio. We are staying near Cleveland, in a town called Richfield, I believe. Have you ever heard of it? We have close to five hours of driving out of the way, with about 7-9 more tomorrow before we reach our destination of New Jersey.

We are nicely snuggled into our super wonderful hotel room, the kids are sleeping and Brian and I are sitting with our heads in our laptops, it’s so relaxing. The first leg of our trip went pretty well, although after driving for an hour Racecar kept saying he was too tired and could we please go to the MOtel. We told him he could sleep in the car and he looked at us like we had arms coming out of our heads. Our kids don’t sleep in cars and haven’t in years. Although we miss it, it’s nice to get into our hotel room and have the kids pass out and sleep wonderfully all night long.

But it’s hard to remember that when the kids say Mom 100 times over the course of one hour.

I actually fell asleep in the car after being in the car of less than an hour. The funny thing is that I never, ever sleep in cars, but today I was all worn out! While I was dozing I was dreaming that I was eating, so I’d find myself actually opening my mouth in real life, getting ready to eat. I imagine the truckers got a kick out of that. I know I did. I would silently laugh at myself after doing it and then I’d fall asleep again and do it all over again.

Man, I love food.

And sleep. Good night, friends. I hope you all have a great weekend.

*I wrote this last night, it wouldn’t publish until this morning. Our precious children woke up a little bit too early, but we were saved by The Bee Movie airing on HBO first thing this morning. THANK YOU HBO. I’m going to hit the shower and hit the coffee and then we are going to hit the road.

Method Winners!

October 17th, 2008

The winner of the Method Gift Pack is Nan M and the winner of the awesome Method t-shirt is Lisa from Retro Housewife! CONGRATS! and head on over for ANOTHER giveway. This time from Lands’ End!

A Letter

October 16th, 2008

Dear Mom,

I just wanted to send you a quick note to apologize for a few things.
First of all, I’m really sorry for being such a tattletale when I was little. I guess I just figured it was my job. I can remember feeling like it was my duty to tell you that Sarah broke all of the crayons in half. Or the time that Danny and David paid Sarah a quarter to answer the phone when the school called to report that they weren’t at school that day because they skipped school. Yeah, I took my telling responsibilities very seriously, even though you never asked me to. I had five siblings and told on EVERY SINGLE thing they did day in and day out and that was wrong. I must have driven you crazy. (dear children, please stop telling on each other)

And the trips to the grocery store, how could you even handle it? Can I have this? and can I have that? As if it weren’t stressful enough shopping for eight people, i have no idea how you didn’t scream in the middle of the store. (dear children, I WILL scream in the middle of the store.)

As I got older, I can remember you telling us over and over again to clean the kitchen or do the dishes and we would just lollygag and roam around. FOR HOURS. You would become frustrated and we would just continue roaming. Never once did we get out of cleaning, we would just prolong the process FOR HOURS. And then finally we would just buckle down and clean and then we’d be so proud of ourselves for doing it. I’m sorry we didn’t just clean the first time you told us to. (dear children, please clean up your messes the first time we ask you to)

I guess the same goes for homework. I sure wish I had done my homework as diligently and consistently as you encouraged us to do. Looking back, I find it humorous that I thought I knew better than you. (dear child, please take pride when writing the number four over and over, it does, in fact, matter when they are facing the wrong direction, contrary to what you believe.)

About the tattoo, the hair colors, all of the piercings and the um…hickies…I’m sorry about those. Thanks for having patience with me and for trusting me to leave the house once again. (dear children, I will ground you forever.)

And do we even need to mention the cigarettes or saying I was at a movie that you found out wasn’t even released, yet? Was it hard for you not to call me an idiot? (dear children, it’s called GPS.)

And recently, after losing James and Jake THANK YOU for embracing my heartache and grief. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for your child’s heart to be broken and not being able to fix it, it’s something I fear everyday and my kids are only four and five. Thank you for loving them, our dear sweet boys, who I know are sitting on your mom’s lap right now, there is no doubt a smile on her amazing face.

And Mom, thanks for having six kids, thanks for loving us all the same (well, you did love Dan and Dave the most, but that’s okay, we don’t blame you) and thanks for showing us what good parenting is….dear children, if I am half as kind, patient and loving as my Mom was with me, then I think we are going to be just fine.

One out of Four

October 15th, 2008

How often are you driving in your car, or sitting at your desk at work, or participating in a PTO meeting and you remember that you really should be doing your monthly self breast exams? I don’t know about you, but this happens to me all of the time. Unfortunately I can’t just pull up my shirt and perform them right there when I’m thinking of it. And then I get into my shower and I think about how much time I don’t have and how once again I’ll have to skip shaving my legs and I forget to do my exam. At my annual OB appointment a few weeks ago, my doctor asked me “are you doing your monthly breast exams.” and I told her “no.” And I felt so stupid. Why wasn’t I doing this thing, this LIFE-SAVING thing that would take but 60 seconds of my time every single month?

I do not have a good answer. But here’s the thing. I’m going to do better. Last year, a blog reader of mine emailed me to tell me that she recognized my brothers when I posted pictures of them on my blog. She told me her name, I remembered her, she went to high school with my brothers. We would email back and forth. Since losing James and Jake, Shantel has been someone that has helped to keep me standing on some days. She emails, she sends me gift cards to support my caffeine addiction (THANK YOU!), her support is unwavering. And then one day she told me that last year she was diagnosed with breast cancer. This mother of two boys, this wife, daughter, friend, classmate of my brothers, had undergone a bilateral mastectomy just over a year ago.

I was floored to say the least. Her strength and her love show no bounds, she is a warrior, a survivor. And she’s here to tell you her story….read on. Please, at the end, THANK HER for sharing her journey with all of us. It’s stories like these that remind us just how good it is to be alive.

__________________________________

When Beth asked me to be a guest writer for her blog, I was thrilled, but in the same note, I was nervous because she is such a great writer and I knew I could not even come close to her wonderful writing.

Early detection is so important, which is why Breast Cancer Awareness means so much to me. I was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was just 34 years old, I do not have a family history of breast cancer nor do I have any of the characteristics of having breast cancer.

It was around Christmas 2006 and I felt a lump at the top of my breast. Even though I was scared, I kept it to myself. As the next few months went on, the lump did not seem to go away nor was it getting smaller. I remember telling my husband, Eric, that I am a little worried about the lump I had on my chest, but did nothing about it. February came and I asked my mom to feel it and asked for her opinion. Of course, as a mother, her first instinct was “you better go to the doctor.” I called the next day.

I was still a little nervous, but really did not think much of it. My doctor said it was nothing to worry about and just keep an eye on it. May 2007 came along and the lump was growing. At this point, I was scared, but did not want anyone to know what I was thinking or that it was growing. I decided it was time to call the doctor again. They told me to come in the next day. Again, she was not too concerned, but agreed it was growing and thought I better have a mammogram.

That Friday, which happened to be the Friday before Memorial weekend, I went in for my mammogram. The technician told me that I would know that day what it was, which was a relief. I had my mammogram done and the radiologist came in and asked if he could feel it. At this point, my heart was beating faster and faster and I was becoming increasingly worried. He was not sure what it was and asked if I had time to stay for an ultrasound. Scared to death, trying to hold back tears, I said “sure.”

As I laid on the table, I could hear the technician and radiologist talking. I was scared to death. He took my hand and said “I don’t know what it is. Cancer has a distinct look, but this is not normal.“ With tears flowing down my face, he said to me “I think you need to have a biopsy.” I was just laying there and I did not know what to think or say. He said my family doctor would call me Tuesday and refer me to a surgeon. What a stressful Memorial Day weekend that was.

The next week came and my doctor called and said I was to see the surgeon the following Tuesday. I still did not know what to think at this point, all I knew was that I was scared. I tried so hard to hold my emotions to myself because I did not want anyone to worry about me, especially my two children, my husband or my parents. I tried to be strong, but was dying inside. At my appointment with the surgeon, he suggested a surgical biopsy because of the size of the lump. I agreed, but did not like the fact that I had to be put under for that procedure. The biopsy went well and it seemed that it was nothing to worry about. I had to go in the next week to get my stitches out and to hear the results.

I was so confident that everything was fine that I went to my appointment with my then 3-year-old son. My other son was 6 at the time and he was at vacation school. I went to my appointment thinking everything was okay, but as soon as the doctor walked in the door, I could tell something was wrong. He said, “I am shocked and sorry, but you have breast cancer.” Trying to hold back my tears, I just sat there. He was quiet for a minute and said “we will get through this, but it will require more surgery.” Tears pouring down my face, all I was thinking was that this cannot be happening. All I could say was “is this terminal?” He told me it was not, that we caught it early enough, but it will be a process. He explained my options and we needed to move quickly because the cancer was fast growing.

I walked out of the office with my sunglasses on, tears streaming down my face, carrying my 3-year-old. I remember him asking “mommy, what is wrong?” I called my husband and parents and told them the news. I was so mad, upset, blunt and just in shock. All I could say is “I have breast cancer.” My parents, who live about 40 minutes away, were at my house within minutes after I arrived home. I did not want to discuss it, but had a lumpectomy scheduled for that Friday that I had to decide if I wanted a mastectomy.

I went ahead with a bilateral mastectomy, which was the best decision I made. I have never looked back. I prayed and asked god to point me in the right direction and he did. Even if I were to have had the lumpectomy, I would have ended up having the mastectomy anyway because of my margins. God really did lead me in the right direction.

July 16th, 2007 was the date I had the bilateral mastectomy. This was the most painful surgery I have ever had. I am unable to adequately describe the pain, but it hurt from above my chest all the way down to my hip bones. I recall laying in the hospital bed just crying because I was in so much pain and waiting for the nurse to come in and put more pain meds in my IV. The first few weeks of my recovery were very difficult. I had to have someone with me at all times to just help me go to the bathroom, walk…really to do anything. I could not even push a grocery cart for 6 weeks. I had a drainage tube in for 10 days that had to be changed every day and recorded how much fluid was draining. The recovery was tough, but I could not have done it without my wonderful friends and family. I really found out who my true friends were at that time.

My friends, I hope that each and every one of you will take the time this month to do a self breast exam. It is so important to know your own body. There is no one in this world that knows your body like yourself. If you ever think something is wrong, please don’t put it off. Early detection is the key and I hope each and every one of you learn a valuable lesson from my story and keep in check with your bodies. Breast cancer occurs in 1:4 women. Please do self exams and if you are ever in doubt call your doctor.

God bless you all…

Shantel

Once

October 13th, 2008

j & j 18 w 1 d

There was a time where I did not know grief as intimately as I do now.

I walked this earth as someone who just wanted to do what was best.

I was aware of the gifts in my life.

Every single one of them.

It brings me great pain that these photos, these priceless possessions I have, the remnants of our life with James and Jake are all we have. That these photos which portray love, family, faith, excitement and gratitude, now just bring us sadness.

To my James and Jake – We wanted you so badly, we loved you the moment we learned of you and we miss you every single day, all of the time. Sometimes the house is so quiet. Your sister will be lying on the couch coloring like she loves to do and your big brother will be on the floor building blocks, your Dad in the office and me on the couch. I sit and I hear nothing, it’s in the quiet that I do not have peace, it’s in the simplicity of our everyday life that I wish for more, it’s after waking from a long night’s sleep, that I wish for you to have woken us up, many times throughout the night.

Endless diapers. Constant feeding and burping. Never ending kisses and neck smelling.

You are always so close to us, can you feel us? As a family, while sitting at dinner, I know both your Daddy and I feel what’s missing, riding in the car, we know there should be more people inside of it.

It’s in our moments of happiness that we can’t deny our sadness. We just want to share it with you. I’m so sorry your lives were cut short. I’m so sorry. As your Mom I just wanted to protect you and as your Mom I seem to have failed. I hope you forgive me. You are so loved. You are so powerful. You are so amazing. In my dreams (and my daydreams, too) I reach out to you and hold you in my arms. James in one arm, Jake in the other, your Dad sitting nearby, we sit and listen to your big sister and big brother talk and tell jokes that do not make any sense, but we laugh anyway. This dream is so peaceful and so full of love.

But it slips out of my hands and will never return. It crashes to the floor and shatters into a million little pieces. Sometimes I piece it back together with stories and pictures and memories, but it never fits back together, there a pieces that are missing.

Those pieces are you.

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