Struggles

I would like to preface this post with a reminder that I know how lucky my family is. We are fed, clothed, and kept warm and there are others who aren't. Our cancer diagnosis isn't terminal like many others. We are rallied around by those who love us. I know we are blessed. But that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to have bad days or think the following ramblings. (Please excuse any offensive language.)

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Am I a bad mom? While those exact words may not come out of anyone's mouth, it has been hinted at. Am I a bad wife? The same-it's never been said, only hinted at. I am a stay home parent so obviously I have the most time to clean the house, cook picture perfect meals from scratch, keep up with laundry and of course make sure not a single crumb is left on the floor at the end of the day. (Joke is on you!) the truth is, I'm far from being to accomplish any of these things. 

I had a friend who was talking to me recently, while trying to figure out the next way to bless our family. In not so many words, she pretty much said she couldn't imagine walking in our shoes. I cried because no one has been THAT honest with me since the beginning of this. I've held so much inside of me for that reason because I don't want to scare people with the dark places that exist inside me. It's really, really dark in there. 

People call me brave. I'm not brave, you fools. I'm scared as hell. There are so many details in my head that I've learned from our oncologist, that I spare people the details when they ask. I give generic answers. Like the likelihood of Aidan's tumor regrowing. The effect that the stupid tumor is having mentally and emotionally on AIDAN. He is not the same babe that went into surgery to remove that tumor. And I am most certainly not the same mama. 

I don't know how in the hell I get out of bed every day. All I want to do is hide. And sleep. And forget. God, I wish I could forget. But I'm forever changed. This dark place inside of me is haunting and it is what steals my motivation away. If I were to be evaluated by a medical profession on my mental/emotional state, I'm 99.9% positive they would find me legally insane. If I start crying, I won't stop. If I let every emotion that's flying around in my head, out of my mouth, it's game over. People will literally look at 

me funny. 

The easiest tasks are so hard for me. My sink is full of dishes? Who gives a crap, my kid has cancer. The kitchen floor has food from 3 days ago on it still? Go to hell, my kid has cancer. CANCER HAS RUINED ME!!!!! I have a huge heart for others suffering, but no room for mistakes from myself. The stress makes me tell. A LOT. And it's embarassinf because I'm so beside myself that I can't handle even the smallest conflicts anymore. My poor kids.  But I'm doing the best that I can right now. Just pray they don't remember their psycho mother during their toddler years. I hate to think I'm crushing their spirits, but I literally don't know what to do with myself. I know I need therapy again, trust me. But will that fix the damage I've already caused? 

Just know that cheery, positive and encouraging Courtney, isn't all she's cracked up to be. I'm hurting. But it's MY choice to display what I want to others. 

Friend, and you know who you are, thank you for your honesty. It's what I've wanted the most-someone who I can tell all these feelings to. 

Let's Get Real

14 weeks. Most people mark such a time frame in their pregnancy. Or how old their precious addition is. I mark it in how many weeks we have left in our 60 week protocol for chemotherapy. Most would be jumping for joy over this, elated to be almost finished with it all. 

You see, I am not most people. I am a worrier to the core. I live in fear, when I know better than to focus on such negatives. But with the end of chemo within my reach, thus signaling time for our Make-A-Wish trip to happen as well, I am plagued with worry. Surrounded by uncertainty. Aidan's prognosis is 90% survival after 5 years. He's not considered in remission until 5 years post treatment. What they DON'T tell you is what can happen during those 5 years. Relapse. A curse word in the cancer world. An earth shattering, soul crushing diagnosis. Aidan is at high risk for relapse for the remainder of his life. Will I EVER be able to live a normal life, without the fear of cancer plaguing me? 

I can't wait for that last day of treatment. I get teary eyed thinking about celebrating it. The end of a painful, terrifying time in my life. I'm sure I'll breathe easier for awhile. It will feel like a honeymoon! I dont have to ship Addilyn and Olivia off to someone's house one night a week so I can take Aidan to early morning chemo. We get to be a typical family. The uncertainty lies in this: right now I know Aidan is in good care and I'm not worried about this tumor because it's being treated and showing a response. After chemo is done. That reassurance is no longer there. But I crave reassurance. CRAVE IT. 

While this time in our lives is just temporary, I can't wait for the day that I can spend equal amounts of time with all of my children and not just focus on one. I'm tired of feeling guilty about my girls being shipped off to someone else's care. I want them in mine. I don't want to feel heartbreak each time I drop them off. I want to drop all three of them off for a weekend of fun, not a weekend bc Aidan is in the hospital. I just want it all over with. 

F U cancer. You may be winning the emotional battle, but you will NOT win the physical battle. I will fight until I can fight no more to make sure Aidan gets to live a typical life like any other child.  But I hate that I can't protect him from further hurts.