I have a post in my drafts right now about the pros and cons of different sensory bases I’ve tried with my kids. I figured after my post last week about how to make a sensory bin and contain the mess, that was the most logical next step. However, this blog is all about being real and as much as I love sensory bins, they’re not what I feel compelled to write about today. Let’s talk about cancer instead.
What an intro, right? You may as well know what you’re getting into! My sentiment towards cancer is summed up in the above photo. It’s breast cancer awareness month it’s the first one that I’ve had a direct connection to someone with breast cancer, so let’s go. My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer back in August and the last two months haven’t felt real. From getting the call to keeping up with appointments and handling all of the unknowns to feeling encouraged by oncology then crushed again by MRI results to scheduling of surgery and discussions of treatment options, I’ve felt stuck in survival mode.
My family is freakishly close. We always have been. People don’t usually understand our family dynamic and we’re okay with that. My mom is so much more than my mom. She’s always been my biggest cheerleader, an honest critic, my biggest role model, my confidant, my teacher in everything, the person I call when I’m having a panic attack or when good things happen, my best friend. When you hear that literally anything might jeopardize the most incredible person you know in any way, a somewhat abrasive bracelet is a natural step, right? I don’t know. I don’t know what is “natural” in this situation. Nothing? Everything? No one can tell you how to cope I guess, but that’s part of the problem. No one can tell you how to cope. You’re on your own to a certain extent.
I still don’t even really know what to say. When people ask how we are I don’t really know how to answer, but if they don’t ask it feels like the bright pink elephant in the room. How should we be doing? Should we be shedding tears? Should we be angry? Should we be thanking God for giving us battles we didn’t want to fight? Really we’re just still us, plus cancer. We go to 1,241 appointments and take notes and try to remember how to handle drains and which possible discovery could mean which treatment route. We make jokes about how this is such inconvenient timing and how a few years down the road would really have worked out better. We try to make sure everyone has the right information and everyone knows where to be and when and who is watching which kids at what times. We play games and laugh and have dinners and spend most of our time together talking about the tiny humans who make our family the best it has ever been.
This time in my family’s life has felt so bizarre and unreal. This threat to our center, our fire, our helper, our person… Honestly, how dare it. I’ve never wanted to punch anyone, but if cancer were a person I wouldn’t think twice. Here’s the thing, cancer doesn’t know what it’s messing with. My mom is the strongest person I’ve ever met even though she’ll deny it every second. My mom has always been the most raw and real person I know and I have always admired her for it and have made it a goal for myself. She’s the original Be Real Mama. I’ve said before that one of the things I appreciate most about how my mom parented is that she never hid things from my brother and me. She shared her life with us and always answered our questions. With all that I know of my mom through her stories and through our lives, I know that even when she is feeling low or scared she excels in the end.
Another thing I know that cancer doesn’t know is that because of who my mom is and how she brought up her family, she will never ever be alone. No matter what happens on our journey, it’s OUR journey. I say “we” so much here because that’s what it is. Always a we. Even though she has the scariest role to play here and that knowledge makes me feel sick, we are all in this together. I’m thankful for so many things even in the midst of all of this, but I am most thankful for the foundation my mom cultivated for our family when it was just four people and how she reshaped it each time it has expanded. This unit she has built can handle anything, even cancer. She can handle anything, even cancer.
Be Real, Mama 