Cheryl Read Photography

It was just a few weeks ago that Cheryl, a friend from high school, contacted me to see if I would be interested in her doing a photo shoot for our family for Christmas.

Her generous offer made me cry.  It reminded me of what life was like this time last year, how very reluctant I was to have any pictures taken of me (unless of course I was using snap chat to take a flattering selfie). How unsure I was of myself in my own skin, and the uncertainty that plagued the future.

As I described in my last post, last year was the first time since Tommy was born that we didn't have Christmas Pictures taken.  Pictures are permanent memories captured forever, last year I just wasn't up to it.

When Cheryl offered to take our families pictures this year I absolutely jumped at the chance.

The process was seamless and so much fun.  Cheryl made all of us laugh and captured some truly beautiful moments.  It only took her three days to edit all of the photos, she sent me the first few as she finished them.  Each image brought tears to my eyes.  There was a time that I would have criticized every aspect of myself in a picture.  When I looked at these I was overwhelmed with the joy of seeing bright, beautiful smiles on my family's faces. Each one of the pictures is absolutely breathtaking, I was completely spellbound by her talent.

Then she sent me a video that she created from the photographs that she took.  It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and I wanted to share it with you.

Thank you all for your love and support.  Thank you for your words of wisdom and encouragement. Most of all, thank you for loving and supporting me.

#fightlikeamommy

#itisstillmyfairytale

I would love it if you would head over to Cheryl's page and like it.  Cheryl Read Photography

Cheryl Read doesn't advertise, she only operates from word of mouth.  

It's Almost Christmas

Life is so busy this time of year, Christmas is just around the corner.  I have always been aware that this is an extremely emotional time for most people, but have never really experienced it until recently.  I post a lot about being thankful for life, family, friends, and the ability to continue making memories.  I didn't know how incredibly special these things were until going through this journey with cancer.  Every day becomes special when you aren't sure if it will be your last.

This weekend has been pretty wonderful.  We have made some magical Christmas memories, and have participated in local events that have become a part of our family's tradition.  It all really hit me last night when after leaving the Jingle Jam (which I was too sick to attend last year), we went to the Christmas Event at Field Days of the Past.  It wasn't until we had reached the 4th building and had walked close to a half mile that I remembered that last year I went wearing a scarf with no hair underneath, I remember the taste of poisoned metal in my mouth, and that I was so weak we had to take the tram from building to building. Last year I held back tears almost the entire time wondering what this Christmas would look like for our family.   

I am happy to report that so far, it looks pretty great.  The difference a year has made is pretty tremendous.

  

Last year was the first time since Tommy was born that we didn't have professional Christmas pictures taken.  I have to be very honest, it was not something I wanted to remember.  Every picture was a reminder of cancer and the impact it had on me and my family.

This year is beautifully different.  I have a dear friend from high school that has offered to take our families picture this year for free.  I am so excited, and very nervous.  I was looking through all of our Christmas pictures from years past.  I always dress Tommy in blue, Elayna in a beautiful fancy dress of varying colors, David in a shade of grey, and me in black or brown.  My unspoken intent was always to let the kids be the focus, the center of attention.  This year I will be wearing my new red Nicole.  It is my look at me - here I am, I beat the odds and survived dress.  David just smiles when I wear it because he knows how much it means to me.  

I am so thankful for the wonderful, beautiful gift that Cheryl Read Photography is giving us today.  I feel so incredibly lucky and blessed by her kindness.  She promotes only by word of mouth, and she is fantastically gifted.  Go check out her page when you get a chance -  Cheryl Read Photography

I cannot want to share the pictures with all of you.

I am still healing from surgery.  I am in more pain than I anticipated being in this far out (it has been three and a half weeks).  Unfortunately, there is a small part of my incision that has opened and has some necrotic tissue.  I am extremely lucky to have some wonderful nurses in my life who are keeping a close eye on me.  I am very hopeful that by this time next month this will be a distant memory. 

Thank you all for your continued prayers.  I hope that the season is filled with light and love for each of you.  Remember to make each day count, hug the ones you love, smile at strangers, and let people know how much they mean to you.

#fightlikeamommy

#itisstillmyfairytale 

Restorative Surgery

In less than a week I will again be having surgery.  This will be my 5th major surgery in 15 months.

For awhile I was calling this one cosmetic, but really that isn't true.  I am not fixing anything frivolously.  This surgery is restorative.  My body will never ever look like it did before my journey with cancer began.  I have accepted that, but this surgery will take away the extensive scarring from necrosis, and eliminate any imperfections in the shape of my newly constructed breasts.  My surgeon will also be removing two more small spots of necrosis along my stomach incision. I think the best way to describe the surgery I will be having next week is restorative.

The past month has been hard.  Cancer is so scary, I think the brave face that I put on for the world is becoming a bit more transparent.  Each time I read of a re-occurrence, or the death of one of my friends my heart hurts, my hands sweat, and my thoughts spin. The unpredictability is terrifying.

My heart also hurts when I think about my sweet Bailey Sue and that soon he will cross the Rainbow Bridge.  He has been with me for 15 years, the imminent loss is truly tremendous.  We will be saying goodbye this weekend.  The kids have never known a world without him in it, David has never known a Rebecca without a Bailey.  Our lives will forever be changed.

There have also been some pretty amazing things to come from this month.  My children entered a "Reflections" contest through the PTA.

The theme was "What is your story."  They both wanted to submit a picture to tell their story. I love how they had very unique approaches to how to capture the theme.

Tommy asked me to play with the dogs, he told me to just be myself.  He snapped a series of pictures and liked this one the best.  He titled it, "Even Cancer Can't Take My Mommy's Laugh Away."

"Even Cancer Can't Take My Mommy's Laugh Away."

I think it goes without saying how much this picture means to me.

I love how very similar it is to this picture of my grandmother.  The minute I saw the picture that my beautiful little boy took of me, it conjured this image of his great grandmother laughing.

Elayna had a very different approach.  She knew exactly what she wanted and posed us.  She was very specific that she wanted the sign that our wonderful neighbor and friend, Kate, had made for me last year included in the picture.  She also wanted the dogs to be included, but they would not participate.   Elayna titled her picture "Fight Like a Mommy."

"Fight Like a Mommy."

I love how she captured the love between us, and how Tommy folds himself into me - like he just can't get close enough.  I feel the same way about both of them.

Elayna won First Place in the Primary Photography Category.

Tommy won second place in the Intermediate Photography Category.

I am so proud to be their mommy, I am so incredibly thankful for each and every day that I get to parent them.  

Take nothing for granted my friends, life can change in seconds. See the beauty in the world around you, tell people how much they mean to you.  Love Life.

"Pray, hope, don't worry." - St. Pio

#fightlikeamommy

#itisstillmyfairytale

Thank you for loving me through it.

Glorious Fall

I love the fall, I really do - but this year seems even more magical than most.  The kids have settled into school nicely, I adore their teachers and they both seem to be thriving.

I have so much to be thankful for.  I have energy, I have hair,  I can sing (loudly, and in the car), my nails don't fall off unexpectedly, or turn black because I causally bump them against something, and I am still surrounded by love and light every day.

This fall has been spectacular.  I met with my new oncologist. He is adorable and I am pretty sure he hung the moon.

My appointment with him brought really wonderful happy tears to my eyes.  After he reviewed all of my charts (which are pretty incredibly extensive) he asked me to see a picture of my children.  I felt the tears in my eyes when he said, "Man, this must have been a hard year for all of you."

I loved that I was a person to him, not a disease that he needed to treat.  None of my care givers have ever asked to see a picture of my family until that day, I didn't realize how much it would mean to me until it happened.

The appointment just got better after that.

He took the notebook that I write all of my questions in from me, and wrote answers in my book as we discussed my concerns.  It was fantastic. We got to my biggest question, the one that my previous oncologist would never answer directly.

Prognosis?

I have done my own research, I know what having HER2 positive cancer means.  The next five years are crucial for me, I have to evaluate every headache and sore muscle/bone and report them to the oncologist if they last longer than 3 weeks. And I have to maintain hope.

Do you want to know what he said?  What this wonderful, magical man said to me.  He looked at my history again. He took a deep breath, put his hand on my knee and said, "Rebecca, I don't think you are going to die from Cancer.  I think you are going to be old and die from a heart attack like the rest of us."

I don't think I have ever heard more beautiful words in my entire life, except when my breast surgeon told me that the cancer was gone.  I was too taken aback to cry like I wanted to, instead I just beamed as he told me that I didn't need to see him for six months.  SIX MONTHS!

Let me put this into perspective, for the last 14 months I have been in the oncology office/infusion center every three weeks, now he doesn't want to see me for SIX MONTHS!

I am anxious, really really anxious.  That is a long time, and I am here to tell you that a lot can happen in that span of time - so I have made a decision.   I am going to LIVE.  No more putting things I want to do off for another time, as a family we are making a concerted effort to have fun and do things together.  Even if they are little things.  And, I am going to do my best to stop worrying about what is not in my control.  If the cancer comes back I can't stop that, there is no magic button, pill, or poison to keep it at bay.  I just have to keep my chin up and keep on keeping on.

I've got this, after all it is still my fairy tale.

I attended my first survivor celebration at the end of September.  It was amazing!   I want to be a part of every celebration that I can be.  I was truly blessed to be able to share the day with my warrior sisters.  The memories of that afternoon will last a lifetime.



This week I had the unforgettable opportunity to address JR Tucker High School's graduating class of 2017 at their convocation.  This means that I got to tell my story to the entire school plus parents and dignitaries.  It was scary - and empowering.  I was able to spread the importance of early detection - and hope.  The importance of friendship and faith.  I am so thankful for the experience and I hope that I am able to participate in other similar opportunities in the future.

On Monday I will get my port out.

My port and I have a love hate relationship.  I love that she saved me from getting countless IVs.

I hate that she hurts me, just about every day.  I hate that even over a year later the kids are still totally freaked out and a little afraid of my secret spy port, or my Lego as it is now often referred to. She keeps me from sleeping on my side, from turning my head too quickly, I can spot her in just about every picture that is taken of me.  She is a constant reminder of cancer, just as the scar that she leaves behind will be a constant reminder of my battle, and my strength.

Sometimes while working on a difficult project, or when I am trying to find just the right words I find that I touch my port.  It is oddly grounding and empowering.

All that being said I cannot wait for her to be GONE.

I think it is fair to admit that I am a little scared, I will be awake while getting the port out.  The port that goes up into my neck, and feeds into my heart. I will be awake when my lovely and gifted surgeon pulls it out of me. I will be able to drive myself there, and drive myself home.  So, yeah, I am a little scared.

The kids are also anxious, please keep them and David in your thoughts on Monday.  Everyone gets a little jumpy right before mommy goes in for surgery.

I am truly, eternally thankful for all of you.  For your friendship and love, for your honesty and your support.  Thank you for loving me through it.

It is breast cancer awareness month.  I would not be alive today if it were not for Savanna sharing her story.  Please, please please - know your body, be aware of any changes.  Trust yourself, you can save your life.

#fightlikeamommy
#itisstillmyfairytale

The Tooth Fairy

My sweet baby boy lost his third tooth at school on Thursday. He was so excited, and I was excited for him.  The new nurse at school gave him a fancy plastic tooth necklace to bring it home safely in.  Tommy is far too much like me though, and was afraid he would loose his lost tooth if he wore the necklace so he scurried it away in his book bag and pulled it out proudly to show me when I came to pick him up.

That night after the kids went to bed I was doing my best to be a quiet, stealthy tooth fairy.  The only problem was, I couldn't remember where his previous two teeth were.  He lost them while I was in active treatment.  I remember him loosing them, it was in fact pretty epic - he shot both of them out with a Nerf gun by wrapping a string around his tooth and tying the other end to the dart.  It was awesome, but for the life of me I couldn't remember where I actually PUT the teeth.  I looked and looked for close to an hour, and then I started to get so upset.  I was looking everywhere, and I was tired.  I started thinking about how many of the little things I missed last year. How much the lasting long term effects of the chemotherapy are taking a toll on my body now, and I began to cry.

I decided to look through my jewelry box one more time.  I felt as though that was the most logical place for me to have placed a treasure such as my son's baby teeth.  I began going through each drawer slowly, pulling out sweet memories that I stuffed away for safe keeping.  I came to my grandmother's beautiful rosary, shortly thereafter I found one that my grandfather had given me, and then one that my mother had picked up for me at a church bizarre with directions on how to pray it still attached, and finally I found one that had belonged to my husband's grandmother, MawMaw.  I laid them all in my lap and admired their beauty.  Their similarities and differences, I soaked up the peace I felt by touching them, and having them close to me.  I looked in the drawer again while still holding MawMaw's elegant rosary and found what I had been looking for, the small box where I had hidden Tommy's sweet teeth.

I cried, great big hot tears.  God have given me yet another sign.  In my heart I realized that I needed to slow down and remember that as much as I want to be, I am still not fully healed.  I am still a work in progress, his work in progress.

#fightlikeamommy
#signsfromheaven

My Wigs

Tonight I packed up my wigs.

There is another mommy who began her battle against breast cancer about the same time I finished my chemotherapy treatments.  I hope that they give her the same confidence that they gave me.  I didn't realize how emotionally attached I was to them, to their presence in our room until I began packing them up.  For over a year the top of my dresser has been adorned with an assortment of wigs, scarves, and bandages for all of my wounds.  Tonight I packed them away after not having worn them for months.  It was sad, and scary, and overwhelmingly liberating.  I don't think I every expected this part of the journey to be laced with such uncertainty amidst the joy of normalcy.

I couldn't pack them up without playing with them one more time.  This one was my favorite, it was the one that the kids picked out that looked the most like me, before.

I haven't updated in awhile, and there has been sooooo much happening. I have been enjoying every single second of this glorious summer and have not sat down to put it all into words.

We have been going down to the Rivah, otherwise known as the River, every weekend since Labor Day.  It has been good for my soul.  There is a magic that physically occurs within my body when I turn off of Rt. 17, and know that I am minutes away from paradise.  My grandfather built the house that we stay in with his own two hands, I get to prepare meals in the same kitchen that my grandmother did, we enjoy the same yard that my mother and her siblings did when they were young.  It is so healing to be there, to see my children enjoying the beauty of the River, and making friends there.  It is truly heaven.




In between trips to the River I have had several doctors appointments, and received some pretty incredible news:)

During early August I had terrible pain in my toe, and I have to be honest that I was convinced that it was an infection from the River.  I have been diligent in not getting in the water past my toes - and then I got intense pain IN MY TOES.  My big toe specifically.  I was totally freaked out and went to the podiatrist to have it examined.  He quickly diagnosed it as an ingrown toenail and offered to cut it off and use some kind of concoction so it would not grow back. I politely declined and settled on just having it cut down.  He explained that with as many times as my nails fell off during treatment I could expect to have more than a few ingrown nails in my future.  I also learned that my other toenails that have been growing in so strangely will likely continue that way.  They are yucky, I didn't know how good I had it until my whole body began to change with the effects from chemo.  I am glad that I now know what it is and how to remedy the pain, and what to expect from my nails.

The next day I had an MRI to make sure that all of the cancer was gone from my breast.  I have been begging for this MRI for months and was so excited to have it scheduled that I forgot what actually getting one is like.  It is pretty intimidating.  I've had so many surgeries that I didn't even know how to answer some of the questions on the questionnaire. It was humbling.

I was quickly whisked away to a room to prep for the MRI. They had to examine my breasts and draw a road map of them. I was again humbled and frustrated, the DIEP surgery that I chose to reconstruct my breasts is not very common so medical professionals typically have tons of questions about the procedure and scars.  The nurses and tech were extremely kind.  They started my IV and loaded me into the machine.  I am a little claustrophobic, and they told me that if I needed to stop to squeeze the ball they gave me, but reminded me that if I stopped - or moved we would need to start again on another day.  I can read between the lines pretty well, so I knew what that meant - stay still!  They were kind enough to give me a pair of headphones set to easy listening music.  I tried to calculate in my head how many songs I had listened to to gauge how long (or how much longer) I would need to stay in the MRI machine.  I think it was about thirty minutes into the procedure that I began to feel uncomfortable, and if I am being honest a little afraid.  Sitting in the whirring silence for that amount of time gives you lots of time to reflect and ponder the future.  About the same time that I felt my mind beginning to spin into some dark places I felt a hand on my shoulder.  A sudden and overwhelming peace came over me.  I am not sure which of my angels came to visit me in that MRI machine, but I am thankful for another sign from God.

When the test was finally over I was sore.  It is not at all comfortable to get loaded into the machine and then lay still for close to an hour. The staff was again extremely kind as they took out my IV.  They explained that because the tissue on my breasts in stomach tissue, and no longer breast tissue the results would likely take longer to come back than normal.  I smiled, and thanked them. I had fully expected would be the case.

The very next morning around 10am I received the most beautiful news from my breast surgeon.  She sent me a text that simply read, "MRI is perfect."   There are not words to explain what reading those words feels like.  It was joyous and beautiful.

That Friday my best friend, Jessika, came with me to have the spots of necrosis removed from my stomach incision.  They had been bothering me for months, and were beginning to protrude awkwardly from my body.  My surgeon has explained to me that he would remove them under local anesthesia.  This means that for the first time since this journey began I was awake during a surgery.  It was so strange.  I have very limited feeling from my breasts to my pelvic bone anyway, with the added numbness it was a very awkward feeling.  I could hear the cutting, and feel a pulling sensation, but no pain.  When he was finished it was actually three spots of necrosis, and not the two that I had thought.  He asked it I wanted to see them (uggh, duh - of course I did).  I was surprised that they were not at all what my mind had conjured.  Necrosis means dead, or deadened.  I imagined that they would be black, brown and gross.  They weren't at all, instead they were light in color, almost white, and reminded me of tiny, toy brains.

The rest of August has been a whirlwind of beautiful adventures, doctors appointments, and occasional meetings.  I am so incredibly lucky to have the love of so many, and to have such a wonderful support system of family and friends.  As I get ready to head back to work next week I am sad that our summer is coming to a close, but so desperately excited about what adventures this year will bring.

The kids have accompanied me to so many doctors appointments that pretending to work for a doctor has become a part of their everyday play.  Here is Elayna at her check in for the cancer doctor.  I think she did a great job of decorating.  She even made a pen with a flower on the end :)

Thank you all for your continued love and support.  I am so thankful for all of you.  Please continue to share the importance of early detection, it saves lives.  It saved mine.

#fightlikeamommy