Remember me.

My heart has been really sad lately. I'm missing my mom right now. Maybe it's because I'm worried that when my kids are my age, they will feel the same way about me. Because I won't be there. Yes, that is a negative way to think. But I have to accept that this disease may get the best of me. That maybe, in spite of the great family life I have, maybe there will come a time when I lose whatever fight I have in me. Even when you have a lot to fight for, sometimes the war is too exhausting.

If I were to die today, I don't think I would feel ok about it (who would?). There's something about being sick that makes you live in the now, and makes even the little things, even your kids pooping the in bath tub (gross), grateful for that time you spent with them. When you walk in the kitchen, and you find your daughter giving your dog a makeover with your makeup, the tempation to become angry has disappeared. Instead, I laugh with her. I open my arms wide enough for her to jump into. And as I breathe in her cake batter scented hair (thanks Ryan!), a moment of calm and peace washes over me.

This isn't a cheesy pep-talk. Because I know as quickly as I am happy with my daughter, I also short-fuse out on her when I'm feeling sick, or tired, or just annoyed about everything. And it is still my job as her mother to discipline her when she does wrong. To teach her how to treat other people. The same with my son, although that is a much different kind of teaching ( we have begun the hitting phase). My job is still to raise them, but my job is also still to enjoy them. To love them. To appreciate them for the gifts they are, the gifts I don't deserve.

I want them to remember me by the way I loved them. I want them to look back in their life, whether I live to be 30, 40, or 100, and have their best memories of me be the ones where they know what it's like to be loved and appreciated.  

"As sure as stars light the midnight sky,
As sure as children wonder why,
As sure as newborn babies cry,
I was born to give my love to you"

*song by Martina McBride- I do not own the lyrics. *

Quick Post

Nothing glamorous and elegant to post today. Sicker than a dog.

Just wanted to thank my amazing husband in honor of Fathers Day. He is a great man who fights his country's battle and fights my battles- including my biggest one yet.

Ryan you really are the best husband ever.  And the best Father. Thanks for making me your wife. I know you just left yesterday but this week needs to fly by so my rock and strength can come home soon. Missing and loving you to the moon and back.

Love
Your wifelette

I guess it's gonna have to hurt, I guess I'm gonna have to cry.

It's week two in this hell they call chemotherapy. I noticed today my hair is becoming very thin and when I brush my hair in the mornings, my brush is much more full of hair than normal. Guess it won't be long until I won't have any hair to brush. I could look at the brightside, which is that it'll take me about 20 minutes to get ready now instead of an hour. But I would gladly have that extra 40 minutes back if it meant I could feel like a woman.

It's not just the hair. While I still have one ovary left, I still feel like a part of my womanhood left with it. Silly thoughts run through my head. Silly, to someone who hasn't ever felt this, but very real to me. Thoughts of being unatractive. Feeling like somehow I give off this scent of only having one ovary. And if some how all of this hell I am going through with the chemo therapy doesn't work and my other ovary becomes a cancer "site".... then I will feel like their goes everything.

I miss my son. I miss my baby I lost last year. I keep hoping they will come visit me in a dream soon, and I am hoping they have found eachother and are playing together somewhere up above the clouds, living a life free of pain and suffering. My thoughts drift to them all the time. Especially my son, Branden. If things hadn't gone they way they had, I would be nagging my husband about getting our house built so Branden could have a nursery.

But do you want to know what I really hate? People who refer to my son as a "miscarriage". I HATE that term. It implies that I somehow mishandled my baby. I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG- is what I want to scream when I hear that word. IT'S NOT MY FAULT! But who am I trying to convince? Myself? Probably.

I have always wanted 4 children. I'm not ready for that dream to die. I love being a mom. Being a mom is the only thing I feel like I want to do for the rest of my life. It's not that I'm not grateful for Brynnlynn and Brydon, because everyday I look at their sweet little faces, and hold their hands that need my comfort, and I could not be more blessed to be their mommy.

I feel gross. I feel sick. I feel ugly.

I feel sad. Really sad.

D.

If I could write a letter to me

Maybe it's the chemo I've started. Maybe it's being left alone all day with my thoughts. But I suddenly realize how negative I have been. Today, more than ever I realize how good I actually have it.

I have many people who I wish I could thank enough and it would square us. First and foremost, my husband, my "ruv", Ryan. He's seen the best and worst in me, and has never loved me less because of it. If I could wish for one thing for my kids, and for anyone for that matter, it would be that they find someone who loves them unconditionally. Un-conditionally. A term quickly lost in today's society. To say I haven't been a picnic to be around this last month and a half would be a understatment. To say that I'm just going to snap out of it one day and go back to normal is unrealistic. But my "ruv" has been the most patient, loving, kind, caring, and even-keeled man I've ever met. He's probably going to see some very ugly sides of me in the coming months. But I'm actually confident that it won't break us. Strange as it seems- our marriage is the only thing I'm certain of right now.

I also want to thank my kids. You are mommies favorite part of life Brynnlynn and Brydon. My favorite snuggle bunnies, my sweet morning alarm clocks. Kissing you goodnight, and smelling your baby shampoo hair is my only comfort right now. At least in life I did something right- you two.

Next, I would like to thank my family. My sister-in-law, who will be helping me and Ryan keep our kids entertained, and keep people updated as my treatments persist. She's taken on all of my housework, and she's even been my "hollywood gossip buddy". I could never do this life without here. My mother-in-law is someone else I'd like to thank. We have not had the greatest relationship. But she is the first person who came to the hospital (besides Ryan) and she apologized for everything- which is huge for her. She is not one to say sorry. And I am not one to let stuff go. It's a slow process, but I'm begging to appreciate her for who she is. And to always remember, she raised my husband to be the wonderful man he is. My father-in-law, grandparents, and my aunt have all been the greatest babysitters. I am so blessed by my family.

Lastly, I would like to thank ALL of my friends. My hometown besties, Chariss, Katie, and Alexi. Thanks for being so great to my family. For cooking us dinner on random nights, for doing laundry, for taking care of our pets. You are the best friends I could have ever asked for! To my online bestie- Amy: You have a huge heart, and I am so appreciate of your patience with me. You always listen to me vent, hear my stupid stories, and laugh at all my jokes.

To my wonderful friends at the UN and AABB: You are all people I could never begin to thank enough. Because you guys don't HAVE to care. You don't HAVE to love me. You don't HAVE to talk to me. But you chose to. I don't know why- I don't deserve it- but I'm sure thankful for it. Thank you all for understanding me. For making me laugh when I'm ready to cry, for making sense out of stuff that is senseless. For all of your different opinions, whether I agree or not, the way you present your opions respectively, creatively, and hilariously. Some of my happiest days are days when I've been stuck in bed just reading what you've all written.

I don't know when or even if this wave of postiveness will come back. That's why I wanted to write it all here. So I can go back and read it when this journey I'm on doesn't seem worth fighting for, and realize I have a lot to fight for.

All my love,

D.

I'm not a Princess, this ain't a Fairytale

It's different when it's you. You read stories, watch news clips, even documentaries and youtube videos. Friends send you prayer chain emails, a midnight phone call..... but when it's you...... it's different.

I've known many people in my life who have had cancer. My own husband's birth mother died of cancer after he was born. My heart always breaks when I hear of someone who has fallen victim to this awful disease. But when someone tells you that you have the disease....it's a different feeling.

Much like my husband's birth mother, I was pregnant when I was diagnosed. Knowing that being pregnant wasn't necessarily a reason for cancer to discriminate, I went into surgery knowing I could leave my husband alone to raise 2, potentially 3 children. Could he handle it? Could they handle it? Could I handle it?

So many questions. Very little answers. As I prepare to begin chemo, many thoughts cross my mind. "what if it doesn't work?" is the bigest question on my mind. As I look at my children, I ask myself, ten years from now, if I'm not here, will they even know me? I look at my husband. Ten years from now, if I'm not here, will he have found someone else to love? Someone else who loves him, and our children? I'm not ready to leave this- leave my family.

People tell me to be positive. But this isn't a lifetime movie. This is real life. Cancer kills people in real life. Cancer, could kill me in real life.

My heart aches more than my arms to hold my son. My son, who was the first victim of my cancer. My son, who lived for 18 weeks. My son will never know his big brother and sister. Brynnlynn would have loved him. Brydon would have been a good big brother.

I watch Cinderella with my 2 year old daughter sitting next to me. I watched Cinderella when I was a little girl. I wanted to be a princess like Cinderella. But, I'm not a princess. And this isn't a fairytale.

It's gonna be an uphill battle

Boy oh boy has life been rough! 

It's funny- because Ryan got home in February- and I think a part of me just expected that once Ryan was home all of the problems would be over. And according to cultural standards, really everything should be fine. I have my husband back after all, so what is their to be sad about? What is their to be depressed about? What could possibly drive you to a point of wanting to drink so much alcohol- that the next morning you can't even wake up to your own babies crying- that your husband- who just got done fighting for our country- has to do your job?

That last (run-on) sentence is a place I never thought I'd find myself. I always fantasized about being a mom. I know- I know- kind of a stretch to call it a fantasy because being a mom is a real thing. When I use the word fantasize I mean, I unrealistically thought of how I could juggle being this fun, cool mom, who always had the house cleaned, who always baked the best cookies, and her family was perfect. If most of you are wondering if I've ever seen the Stepford Wives- the answer is no. If most of you wonder if I've put all my stock into being a Stepford Wife/mother- the answer is yes.

Two weeks ago- my counselor asked me to think about one thing: what would it look like if your house of cards fell down? What would it look like if their was an illness, or perhaps a financial crisis, or if Ryan got deployed again.

A week later I got my answer, when my oldest child (2) threw one of her temper tantrums,and had a seizure for the 3rd time in her short life. This seizure was much more scary than any other had been- even though I had Ryan here with me. Because Ryan being there didn't stop the seizure.  And Ryan couldn't save her. I couldn't save her.

I'll spare you the details but in short- we later found out that our daughter has epilepsy. And suddenly- those cards fell right down to the ground. I didn't love my daughter any less- if anything, if it's possible, I came to love her more. But the rug beneath my feet was swept out from under me. All last week I spent tossing my feelings left and right, grappling with everything that had happened to me in the last five years of my life. 

And now I'm left to face the reality: I haven't forgiven myself for the baby that I miscarried last November.

Life of a Married, but Single Mother

Sometimes, I feel like no one understands me. But then I feel like sometimes, I don't even understand myself. I find myself often questioning my feelings, impulses, and why I chose the life I chose. Don't get me wrong, I love my kids (Brynnlynn is almost 2 and Brydon is almost 1), and I love my husband more than life itself. But it's weeks like this.... moments like these...... and feelings this strong, that make me think that somewhere in my life I took a wrong turn. 

At first, I thought having feelings like this made me a bad mother. Made me a bad wife. So I never let myself feel this way. And when I did feel this way. I would release these feelings the only way I knew how. By drinking. Wow, just writing those two words down, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest. On the outside, I am this put together mother, and marine wife, who survives the impossible, and manages raising two kids, working part time, and still finding time to not gain a pound, for fear that if my husband returns to a fat girl, he will leave for someone better.

But the reality, I have been struggling with alcohol consumption for several years. More recently, has it began to really consume my life. To me, alcohol is my escape. It's the only thing in my life I can control. I can't control when my kids are going to go to bed, I can't control when my husband will be back from overseas, I can't control my emotions. But I can control my drinking. I can stop when I want to , which makes me think I may not be an alcoholic, but I don't have a desire to stop, which makes me think I am an alcoholic. I don't know what I am anymore. 

I am sure a lot of you are reading this, judging me. Thinking how could I do this to myself, get wasted at night to numb my mind, knowing that my kids are very well asleep in the next room. Trust me, I am judging myself much more than you. Not a day goes by that I don't think someone could do this job better. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I was a better mother to them. 

A lot of you know that I miscarried in November. I was about 15 weeks pregnant. I didn't keep that a secret, I was very open about that. What I wasn't open about, and what I have been hiding from all of you, is guilt. The night before the miscarriage, I drank half a bottle of wine. I am solely responsible for the death of my unborn child. It wasn't an accident, it wasn't stress from my husband being gone. It was my selfish choice to escape reality, rather than deal with the reality that I am someone's mother. I let my unborn child down. I let my husband down. I let my family down. 

I have been going to counseling, and all that I've deducted from all of this so far is I am a mess. I am an emotional basket case. On the one hand it makes me grateful to have found a man to love me in spite of it. On the other hand, there's a fear in me that someday, it will be too much for even him to bear. 

I am writing this blog because, I want everyone to know- that even when someone's life seems perfect. Even when it seems like, on the outside, they are completely together, on the inside, someone is screaming. Someone is raging angry at the world. Someone is consumed by fear, consumed by grief, and consumed with an idea that at the end of the day, someone could do your "job" at life better than you. Writing seems to be my only "healthy"escape at the moment. I will be posting several blogs throughout my journey, my journey of recovery. My journey of learning exactly who I am, who I was made to be, and who I hope to be. Thank you for joining me in that journey!  This won't be the funniest, most interesting thing you've ever read, but I hope that if anything, I can inspire someone else who is fighting an internal battle, to start fighting it externally. 

Love,
D.