a week ago today

i loathed two specific phrases

"your mom may have five to six months life expectancy" 

and 

"it would be wise to get paper work in order"

:::

a week ago today

 i cried harder than i ever had before.  

noticed things about my mom i never noticed before.  

 and tried my best to remember her,
more than i ever had before.

for over a month my mom has struggled with multiple blood clots, repeated hospital stays and new news both good and bad.  for over a month i haven't paid attention to what day of the month it is or time of day it is.  instead, my days have been measured by time spent with her, and time spent without her.

january 2nd was the first day of my almost month long stay in colorado that i was aware of the date.  january 2nd left a scar.  it left fear.  it left the biggest heartbreak i have ever felt.  january 2nd was the fourth day my mom had been released from her third stay at the hospital.  she was staying at my grandma's house when we were called that morning to come over earlier than expected.  my cousin julie, a doctor in our family and a person committed to my mom's health was there with her husband, two little girls and week old son.  the girls were dancing around, the newborn was being held and i watched my mom trying her best not to cry.

we waited until the little ones left for the bad news to be delivered.  until then, what we knew was just blood clots; scary and extensive but nothing that couldn't be dealt with.  it was nothing without a cure.  my mom's unsteadiness and lack of eye contact had me in knots.  we were all crying, without knowing, but knowing, it's not good.  i'm not sure how long we sat on my grandma's couch before we heard "your mom has cancer.  we believe it's ovarian.  we believe it is aggressive.  we fear it may or has spread to her lungs."

next followed the two phrases i loath.  

i can't explain the flood of thoughts and emotions that followed.  selfish ones like, 27 is too young to not have a mom.  summer?  its only january.  how will my children not know this woman?  woman?  i mean mom. my mom.  interlaced with those were thoughts like, she'll never be a grandmother.  53 is too young to die.  is she scared?  she has to be.  what is she thinking right now?!?

my sister and i sat next to her. the three of us crying.  what do we say?  what do we do next?  what can we do next?

the only thing we knew was to stay with each other.  little funny things tried to be spoken but were never successfully humored.  the rest of the day we did our best to keep ourselves from crying.  i became hypersensitive to everything about her.  i studied the ends of her hair, shape of her eyes and color of her finger nails.  i tried to remember her hug, how it felt, how i felt hugging her.  i thought about how i would miss it.  summer? for the rest of the day it felt like i was trying to retain rather than live.

january 3rd we found out her hysterectomy had been moved up a week ahead of schedule.  that it would happen the following morning.  we went through her personal files where we picked up her living will and testament {i never knew i could despise a stack of papers until that day} and got prepped for a major surgery, major news and the fourth stay in the hospital.

january 4th we arrived at 5:30 am and headed to the hospital.  we claimed an area of the waiting room, grabbed our coffees and waited.  waited for the news we knew was coming, but how bad?  at 11:00 am the doctor came out.  the surgery went great and there was no trace of cancer to be found.  what?!? did he say no cancer?  the doctor seemed as baffled as i felt; he was relieved, but not as much as me.  we arrived that day with an arsenal of questions about how bad the cancer is.  what do we do next?  can we slow this down?

i felt solace but stupid.  ask something! but what?  this was the only thing i wasn't ready to hear.  feeling numb and hopeful we decided to relish in the victorious news, at least for the time being.  we know bad news is still looming, but where? and when will we know?

it has been two days since she has been out of the hospital.  she is doing great, healing, laughing and accepting any news or prescribed tests that pop up.  i still find myself looking at her longer than normal and trying to look away before she sees me.  i'm sure after she reads this i will be caught.

...but for now we wait.  we love. and we don't take a moment for granted.

LOVE YOU MOM

thank you...

...to all of you who have supported this blog

...to all of you who have left comments under posts

{i really do get so excited when that happens!}

...to those of you who have shared a post or the site with others

...to all of you who i love dearly

...to all of you who i could not live without

*     *     *

i hope to give much much more in 2012!  look forward to

give aways!  guest bloggers! new expierences and posts! 

 if you are intersted in guest blogging shoot me an email, i would love to share what you have to say and the things that make you happy.

please continue to comment under posts, give me feedback, or just communicate. 

please follow so i can one day offer so much more! 

any interaction on the site is truely some of the best support i can get!

here is to new beginnings, love and growth in the new year.

hurry up 2012!

christmas 2011: one for the book

christmas 2011 was unlike any other 

this year we spent christmas day in the hospital where my mom has been for the past two weeks.  we knew she wouldn't be out by christmas, so we decided to make the best of pre-christmas build up and the best of christmas weekend just for her.

first up: decorate her room. 

the big sister and i bought up a lot of christmas decorations last week and slyly hung them all while my mom slept.  when she woke up she was greeted with colorful ornaments raining down from her window.  red and sliver snow flakes hung from the curtail rail {with medical tape of course}christmas cards and get well cards nicely propped up for her to see.  a tiny green tinsel tree and of course, cookies within reach.

next on the agenda: christmas eve.

it's a good thing my mom is on a regular hospital diet so we don't really need to 'sneak' in food, more just bring it to her.  so we thought it would be fun to throw a little pizza party.  we called in her favorite order {double sausage pizza with a vanilla coke} from our beloved family pizza place, frank's, and invited friends, family and nurse staff to stop by for a greasy slice and vanilla coke while a christmas story played on tv.

last: christmas day.

we had mom's present and stocking ready to go, cookies for the nurses baked and decorated, but the big sister and i were really excited about a surprise we had decided on a few days prior.  hideous pajamas for christmas morning.  to really embarrass ourselves further we decided to cut up a christmas ribbon, fashion it as an over the top bow and place it on top of our ridiculously braided hair.  the embarrassment was well worth the laughter we got the moment mom saw us.

a new tradition?

i hope everyone had a very merry christmas, ate and laughed as much as we did, but most of all, appreciated the time spent with your family and loved ones.  it just goes to show, location is no match for good company.

dear december,

i wish i could say i love you.  i do.  but undoubtedly you have dealt blow after blow since the 1st.  you have delivered bad news on top of bad news, ultimately trying and breaking my optimistic outlook.
 

with that said, you have taught me something new.  you have taught me to deeper search for wonderful things, as little and petty as they may be, and see their meaning.  with those tiny little beautiful things i have decided to pile them up and hold on to them; count them; adore them and keep them so the next time you approach with a new complication in hand, i'll fall on things i love.

i don't blame you for being honest.

but instead of caving to your news, i've decided to welcome it.

find humor in it. and approach it on a case by case basis, as hard as this may be.

beacuse you have affected the people i love most, this month, i have also decided to be about everyone else.  i'll check in every now and then, but my empathy is on reserve for the people i love.   so i can laugh with them.  cry with them. bring a bit of light in their darkness.  hug them. escape with them.  and just be present.

so, that's what i will be doing from now on.  i may also accompany my plan of attack with chocolate.  maybe some wine.  but guaranteed, with laughter.  not for you, but for my loved ones because they need it most right now.

suck it december.

xo,

R

a very merry christmas

these sweet treats are:

         sunday, lovely sunday...

always better with ice cream for breakfast!

the night one little girl entertained us all

:: with the evans maxwell family ::