Monday, April 3, 2017

Who He'd Be Today

Nine years.

For nine years, I've tried to formulate a coherent sentence about what April 3rd means to me.  But instead, I just remember that girl who after an unimaginable period of staying home in her grief, finally ventured out to meet her best girlfriend thinking she was ready for the words. Instead, she could only put her head in her hands and cry.

That's was me.

Nine years later, that's still me.

So I'll try my very best to say it this way:

Dear Colton,

I love you.  For so long before I heard about you, you were the child of my dreams. When I was little, I'd play dress ups with my dolls and I'd imagine you. When I was older, I'd think about what my life would be, and you were always in the vision of that "someday", When I met your dad and we'd lay around looking at the sky and talking about the beautiful dreams ahead - it was you that we were talking about. When our dream finally became a reality, with a whoop and a holler, the excitement was all yours.

And on April 3, 2008, you became the child of my dreams once more.  

Every day that I breath on this earth will be in the memory of how a tiny little boy, who fit into the palm of my hand, changed it. I am your mother and you are my son. 

Today, on your birthday, I close my eyes and think about the boy you would be. I envision you with blond hair and those darling deep dimples you got from your dad.  I think about his beautiful brown eyes and how they would have also been your beautiful brown eyes.  But from me, you would get your spunk - your spark - your spirit. 

This is the year that I would have bought you your first pony.  You are my Colt and at nine, this is the year I would teach you to fly...

So fly still my little son, and remember how much your mother loves you.


Friday, March 31, 2017

Rebel Cry

I cannot count how many times over the last 18 months I've said to myself, "sit down and write."  Not to simply add another post to my count... but to give voice to my thoughts, and dreams, and disappointments.  For which, there have been many. To get all of the things swirling around in my head and heart out and on paper, where I can hopefully sort them into sensible little boxes.

But I haven't. 

Because I can't.

Last March, I received great news. After two years of treatment, my biopsy was clean.  Uterine cancer no more.  With the next biopsy in July, it was back.  5%.  Not an alarming percentage of bad cells...but it wasn't zero.  Regardless, I made an appointment (with the blessing of my oncologist) to see what my Reproductive Endocrinologist would say. Any chance of a frozen embryo transfer?

Nope.  He said I had to have a sustained clean biopsy for 6 months before he would even think about it. 

So back on cancer-fighting drugs I went.  Another biopsy 3 months later (November) showed an increase still. 8%. A month later (December), I elected for surgery - a uterine scrape - on a wing and a prayer that if we scraped away the bad cells... we'd be back where we wanted to be with zero. Pathology of those scraped cells however, wasn't great - It was horrible actually.  Up to 26%.  But we elected to give it three more months.

And in those three months, I decided to do it my way.  

With a rebel cry, I started 2017 by throwing all of my medications away.  I said, "to heck with it!" because those meds have made an infertile... even more infertile. So I stopped. And in my rebellion, I decided to let nature take its course.

I didn't even schedule my 3 month biopsy for March.  

I decided to let nature takes its course.

And oh boy, has she!  Physically, I haven't felt better. After three months, the medication has finally cleared my body and after 10 long years of pumping infertility and cancer medication into my body.... I finally feel like me again.  That's a big win and 45% of why I said, "enough".

But, unfortunately, my rebel cry was short lived.  Part of the downside of uterine cancer gone untreated is bleeding. And when I say bleeding...I mean bleeding! Think of your worst period and then magnify it x10. Then factor that it doesn't stop (because I'm not taking the medication to make it stop). So at the beginning of March that started. 

And didn't stop. 

So in a panic - I started the horrible medication again.  

Still didn't stop.

So after a month of feeling like I'm bleeding to death, I called the oncologist and she asked me to come right in. She patiently listened to my rebellion... Performed that unscheduled, but overdue, biopsy... And changed my medications.

And in her eyes I know exactly where this is going...

So now I wait for pathology results and her call, so we can have what I know in my gut will be the worst discussion of my life. 


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