Remembering My Final Chemotherapy Infusion

It occurred to me yesterday morning that I had never posted the bulk of the pictures from my last chemotherapy infusion.  I have been so open and honest about my journey with cancer, but these pictures are different.  These pictures speak to my soul in a way that is difficult to put words to, even now it is hard to see through my tears to see the computer screen.

There is immense joy in these pictures.  Look at us laughing and smiling through tears of absolute joy.  I cherish the joy in all of our smiles, even when there are tears making our eyes sparkle. I made it through 17 chemotherapy infusions and five surgeries, I promise that I could not have done that without your help, without your love.

Cancer is hard.  I didn't have any tangible experience with Cancer until it was me going through it, it was like all of life's true struggles - you just kind of get thrown in.  There isn't a pause button, or time to stop and catch your breath.  From the moment of diagnosis there is one goal, to survive.   For me that drive was so strong, and re-enforced each and every time I looked at my babies.

They were so young when I was diagnosed, Elayna was 4 and Tommy was 7.  My biggest fear was (and is) that Cancer will steal me from them, that they wouldn't remember me.  I remember spending hours in the beginning of my journey with cancer trying to conjure up my first memories, the earliest ones to test myself and see if I could recall anything from their ages.  I found that my memories were all fairly scattered and blurry until about age 10.  That struck a terror in me that I never talked about, but that I am sure was apparent to anyone who was watching.  I did my best to fill our days with love, laughter and magical memories, just in case.

It was about halfway through my infusions that I got the notion that I wanted to dress up like a princess for my last treatment.  I mentioned the idea to my sweet friend Christine and immediately a plan flew into action.  It is pretty spectacular to have someone like Christine in your life.  She set a a series of events into motion we invited everyone to come celebrate dressed as a princess, or dragon slayer, or just as themselves to celebrate my victory.  My last chemotherapy treatment.

I remember explaining my idea to the nurses at the Virginia Cancer Institute, I can remember them smiling and saying that it was okay.  I don't think they had any idea just how big the celebration was going to get.

I am so very thankful to be here a year later writing this post to you.  I have poured over these pictures for the last two days remembering being cloaked in so much love and kindness.  I am so blessed to be counted as a survivor.  Thank you all for your love, for your friendship, for your words of encouragement, for your prayers, and most of all for your kindness towards my family.

Today was breathtaking, it was a spectacular anniversary of my last chemotherapy infusion. The kids finished the week at Vacation Bible School.  If you have been following our journey you may know that it always seems that VBS weaves its way into our lives in the most magical of ways.  This week Tommy and Elayna had to look for God Sightings.  God Sightings are when you see God in your life. My beautiful, brave little six year old stood before an entire congregation and told them my story.  I wasn't there, so I don't know what her words were - but I do know how proud her brother was of her for talking about it. He was beaming when he told me.

She made this to go on the display for all of the parishioners at church to see this week.  

Please continue to spread light and love in the world, be the change that you want to see. 

#fightlikeamommy

#itisstillmyfairytale

Special thanks to Rachel Kurtz for the amazing pictures, you truly captured the essence of the day!!

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.

I would tell her to,  "Pray, hope, and not worry." - St. Pio

Most of all, I would tell her to Fight Like a Mommy.

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