Defy Gravity: If I could write a letter to me...

This picture was taken in the spring of 2013, about two years before my cancer diagnosis. I wish I could write a letter to the girl in that picture.

There are so many things I would tell her to prepare her for this journey.

I would begin by telling her to continue making magic with those beautiful babies. Every single day is a treasure, but she knows that already. I would encourage her to take every opportunity to pick the babies up and carry them wherever their hearts desire. I would tell her not to let anyone tell her not to pick them up, I promise they are not "too big." The day will come all too soon when you won't be able to lift them anymore, and when you will struggle to even bend down to give goodnight kisses or play on the floor. That will be harder on you than you can possibly imagine and you will need to have these memories to fall back on. You will need to know that you did, until you couldn't. Tell them you love them every single day, even every hour of every day. Make memories that will last a lifetime. Let them see you pray, let them see you cry, let them see you love, and let them see you extract joy from life. Do not underestimate the power of the words you say to them, they are absorbing all of it and will let you know that later.

I would tell her that she has chosen her husband well. He will be able to remain strong when you are not. He will help you in seeking answers and finding the right questions to ask. He will know what you need, even when you don't.

I would tell her that she is so beautiful. I know that she won't believe me, and that she will quickly point out every flaw and imperfection, but I sit here now with tears in my eyes wishing that I had looked in the mirror more often and seen beauty rather than fault. I would tell her to enjoy the way things feel. Embraces, the sun on your chest, the way your skin changes if the air is too cold or too hot, before long you won't be able to experience that anymore. Enjoy those feelings now, hold them in your memory forever.

I would tell her to go to the River, to feel the sun beating down on her chest. To enjoy that encompassing heat. To go immerse herself in those beloved waters of the Rappahannock. All too soon you will have too many wounds and a compromised immune system and won't be able to indulge. You don't realize now how heartbreaking it will be to watch the babies and your niece and nephew jump off the pier and not be able to follow them.

I would tell her that friendships are going to become more important that she could possibly realize. That being able to surround yourself with people who truly love you makes all the difference in the world, and that it is so important to laugh, all the time - but especially when you are afraid.

I would tell her to have the extra piece of cake. To stay a little longer, to sing a little louder, to call loved ones just because. To stop worrying about things that don't matter.

I would tell her to cherish her fur babies. They will surprise you with their compassion and dedication to you. When you fall ill they are going to meet you at the door and not leave your side until you walk out of it again. I would also give her the heads up that in just a few months she is about to meet the biggest hushpuppy she has ever seen. I would tell her not to be afraid of him, he is going to change your life for the better.

I would tell her that she has so much to offer, and that she has and will continue to impact so many lives. I would tell her that no matter what comes, do not be afraid. In the words of the great Christopher Robbin, "You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." I promise you that all these things are true.

I would tell her to find the joy in every day, there is darkness ahead - but there will never be a bad day, only bad moments. I would tell her that she will find great strength in some very wise and loving women that she will meet along the way.