sweet relief

The last two weeks have been a blur.  What started off as a routine mammogram; a 40th birthday present from my gynecologist, turned into an odyssey of anger, fear and extreme compartmentalization (a super power that I was unaware that I possessed, until now.)  In a moment, this control-lover had no choice but to relinquish everything to "what might be" and just move through.

I'm not squeamish about medical procedures or even overly modest, but I have to say that breast biopsies rank (in my experience) among the least tolerable.  They're not too painful, but seriously violating.  Lying half-naked on a cold table with four chatty women adjusting, groping, twisting and smashing you from below, is not my idea of fun.  I was horribly unprepared for the length of the procedure and how I'd feel afterward.  And I now have such respect for all those who have walked this path before me.  And who went on to walk it longer - through much harder terrain.

The physical discomfort of lying frozen for 90 minutes while they compressed, xray-ed, sampled and repeated, was nothing compared to how I felt once we left.  Double-tight Ace-wrapped with a hematoma and, I guess, a temporarily half-broken heart, I cried most of the way home, unable to share with my poor husband why I was even crying.  I'm not a crier and I suppose that made the whole thing even worse for him.  But I had been storing up all my "what if's?" and "how will I's?" for two whole weeks while looking into the eyes of my children.  Every time I felt happy, which was often, I immediately went to a different place and then, thankfully, I was able to sweep the fear away.  When I needed it most, my ability to set it aside and wait without surface worry kicked in with a vengeance.  Who knew I could do that?

I don't mean that I didn't have a few sleepless nights or dark moments, I did.  I've had my share of issues health-wise this year and I'll admit that I felt some serious self-pity.  But I survived it like we all do. We do because we must.  And because we can.

And now I feel like I've won the lottery.  Standing from atop Relief Mountain, I'm too aware that I could be in Victim Valley, if one microscopic cell was different on a slide.  I am grateful beyond words that what I feared is not the path I need to travel.    I've been given the gift of love and support from those who knew what was going on, and I'm so thankful for that, too.  "Thank you" doesn't even come close to conveying how I feel.

All that's left to do is move on and live this precious, blessed life to the fullest.  Let's get going!

attitude of gratitude

Being grateful, being focused on and thankful for what you're blessed with, is one of the secrets of life.  When I'm really on top of my game (or have a moment or two for free thought) I try, to at least think about that for which I'm grateful.  Sometimes I have the energy to even write these things down in a gratitude journal; an idea that I wholeheartedly believe in but never really got off the ground for me.  If you were to look at my journal, it would appear I've only had grateful days about seven times in the last three years.  Not an accurate account.

Reading Judy Belmont's uber-inspiring post from yesterday on Stepcase Life Hack,  I couldn't help but be moved to try again.  I want to cultivate an attitude of gratitude every day and one of the ways I do this is through my writing.  Belmont's post reminded me of the attributes of a grateful person, and couldn't have done a better job describing the person I strive to be.  The Top 10 Habits of Grateful People is a must read if you're in the mood to cultivate the 'tude.  This, my friends, is good stuff.

In the meantime, sometimes you've just got to spell it out.  Here are a few random things I'm grateful for, right at this very moment:

1.  A good friend who has kids with the same age, gender, interests and schedules as mine.  I honestly have no idea how I'd survive this summer without the willing carpool schedule I share with her for a multitude of activities.  (Thanks Merritt!!)

2.  Hot coffee.  It's the only way out of the Keppra morning fog.

3.  The fact that one of my daughter's most loved activities recently relocated to our town, shaving about 40 minutes of rush hour driving off our days.  Not to mention the amazing new Phenom Gymnastics facility!

4.  A semi-successful summer chore system in the works.  There's still room for improvement, but we haven't thrown in the towel yet!  (This is already an Anderson summer record.) 

5.  Brave, optimistic kids.  I am amazed almost daily at my children and how they fearlessly face challenges that come their way.  Whether they're standing on the block of the pool waiting for the gun, dealing with the loss of someone they love, accepting things that come with growing up, performing for the judges, shaking off something that hurts emotionally or physically, or standing up for themselves with their pals, they are courageous at some point every single day.  They make me want to be better.  For them and for myself.
 

you

This post is for YOU.  YOU know who you are.  You're the YOU of all you's, my one and only and most importantly, the greatest father on earth.  On Father's Day, more than any other day, I revel in the fact that, of all things, I am certain of one:  I chose right. 

It is such a pleasure, honor and thrill to help you raise our three amazing little beings, to see you pass along your patience, your good-to-the-core nature, your tireless work ethic and endless generosity.  You are the epitome of what "father" means and I will never tire of watching you in action.  You never cease to amaze me.

What a perfect Father's Day this year - we got to witness your Nascar Riding Experience with your Dad and Mary.  I'm sure the Driving Experience is next!

For all that you do, for everything that you are, for the dream you have for our family, I thank you and I wish you the happiest Father's Day.  In my humble opinion, no one deserves it more than YOU. 

You're the very best, so deeply loved and forever appreciated.

why

Some people think I'm a bit looney to share so much on the wide open Internet.  They question my decision to endanger our privacy or place pictures and names of our children online.  I've wandered into controversial territory once in awhile and likely conveyed too many personal things at times.  But I've realized that I'm comfortable here, in front of everyone and no one in particular.  I have grown to love this blog and look at it as the true essence of me, on the proverbial page.  For the world to see, yes, but more importantly, for my kids to know.

This collection of words now nearly five years in length is among a short list of my most prized possessions.  (How ironic that one of my most prized possessions is virtual!)  A list of celebrations and stories of our good and bad, some so small or seemingly insignificant that they may have been forever lost if not captured here.  I read through its history from time to time and remember cherished moments, hilarious infractions and unbelievable comments my children have made.  I see the faces of those I love the most growing, moving through their unique life experiences.  I feel how the earlier days of motherhood left me completely physically exhausted and see how it's now more of a physical and emotional consumption.  I witness how we're all changing, evolving together and on our own.  How we all continue to try to find the good in every day, to become wiser.  And better.

I am forever grateful for the inspiration I felt in 2007 to begin this adventure of chronicling our days.  It is, to me, the best baby book of all time (the three that belong to our children have barely anything written since 2007), among the best decisions I've made and hopefully, a lifeline to all that we were, are and will be.  Even if I live to be 100 someday, but lose my ability to tell these stories, I love that they've been told.  I love that they'll be able to be read.  And felt.

Good and bad, this is our true story.

I'm sure that someday, our descendants might not be so interested, and that the Internet will have morphed into some other type of thing.  But for now, I'll continue to remember, to retell, to relish this life of ours.  All-consuming and challenging as it may be, I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.