By the end of this week I will be an empty nester. Who came up with that name? I don’t think I like it. Plus, if it’s being compared to a birds nest, that implies they never come back. Am I wrong? Also, don’t mama birds shove their babies off and force them to fly when they’re ready? Ok. There were/are definitely times I’d love to shove the kids into the world and force them to fly but there are times I equally if not more, want to hold on and squeeze them in a hug and force them to just stay near. ‘The greatest gifts you can give your children are the roots of responsibility and the wings of independence.’~ Denis Waitley. Yes, yes, sure. I am not afraid of being an empty nester, it’s actually exciting to think the house will be more quiet, the tv/kitchen/couch will be just ours, our grocery bill will be significantly less (and I won’t have to think too hard about pleasing everyone for dinner), we can be more spontaneous, whimsical, and maybe even walk around in our underwear in our middle aged bodies.
I have been swallowed up in mixed feelings since Alex’s graduation last June, knowing he chose a college 2000 miles away and that this day would be coming sooner than later. I want to say that Alex is my hardest goodbye but I can barely remember launching the others so I know I’ll be ok. Alex is the baby and that in and of itself makes it harder. I was first diagnosed with cancer just as Alex started kindergarten and am now in my 4th recurrence. I was diagnosed as Stage 4 cancer when Alex was about to start his freshman year and I remember praying to just be alive to see him graduate high school. He has pretty much only known his mom as a mom with cancer. I’m still here, cancer has been stable since then but life was not easy within that 4 year period. Two years ago this month, Alex had a stroke and was right side paralyzed. In fact, almost everyday this month a memory has popped up on FB or in my google photos and it is of Alex at the hospital. This was the week, 2 short years ago, that he started moving his right arm and right leg again. Pictures have come up from the prayer vigil at his high school, of friends sending me encouraging videos, and of the night his friends gathered outside the hospital with flashlights and banners for him to see from the windows from his hospital floor. I lived at the hospital for 6 weeks and it wasn’t for me, it was for the child who is now ‘flying away’ and who had to fight hard both physically and mentally. Every memory and picture brings a flood of emotion. This is a hard goodbye.
A few nights ago we took a packing break and he laid down facing me on his bed and said, ‘let’s just talk.’ As I lay there facing him, I burst into tears. At the hospital, I would be in the exact position, staring into his eyes and praying at first for him to survive, then that he would just get better. I bargained with God to take me instead, after all, I was the one with cancer; the one who should be in the hospital bed. I remember the very last night at the hospital, looking at each other and both weeping about all that had happened, and expressing fear over his future and what leaving the safety of the hospital meant. I could not hold back the tears being in the exact same position looking in his eyes, I guess I have PTSD. All he said was, ‘Don’t let my last moments home be sad, be happy for me.’ I am ecstatic for him…for real!
As I try to process the last one leaving the house, I know that it’s not the fact that we are becoming empty-nesters, it’s the fear of an unknown future for both of us because of our health ‘scares’. I am also filled with questions about whether I was a good mom or not, did I help guide them on the right path, will they be ok and if they’re not, are they strong enough to ask and seek help, so many questions but I know I did my best. It seems the most random things melt me into a puddle of tears like the face to face talk, bringing something to his room and realizing he won’t be in it anymore for a long while (and then less and less), seeing the bag of almost 200 notes and letters he got at the hospital, the stupid picture memories that keep popping up on my phone, and even the random food items that only he likes that are still in our pantry and fridge. I know that as time passes these feelings will soften, he’s not the first kid to leave. It’s just another reminder that time goes so fast and to make each moment count. ‘Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart walking around outside your body’.~Elizabeth Stone.
I learned after the first one graduated high school and left that raising kids is a long series of goodbyes and as they learn to ‘adult’, we learn to let go. Now I prepare myself once again to have my house as a place he visits instead of a place he lives and to leave another piece of my heart someplace else.
‘If you would have your child to walk honorable through the world, you must not attempt to clear the stones from his path, but teach him to walk firmly over them-not to insist on leading him by the hand but let him learn to go alone.’~Anne Bronte
It’s week, I don’t even know anymore, of Covid quarantine. I have semi-adjusted to the daily web based calls for work, various networking calls, dog walks, exercise, cooking, etc, and of all those things, I don’t want to cook anymore…I’m bored with my cooking. I have developed a couple addictions; one to pork rinds (the ‘healthy’ keto kind from Whole Foods), and I can’t get enough of a cleaning instagram account called @gocleanco. It’s seriously a before and after gold mine of house cleaning. No, I haven’t deep cleaned my house from top to bottom nor have the desire to, but I love watching the cleaning stories on this account and I did buy powder Tide for the first time ever (if you watch, you know). It’s weird.
Starting week 6 of our quarantine but who’s counting and how is everyone? I have to say, I have run through the gamut of emotions. The first week or so I was just busy; busy preparing the house for all of the kids to be back (the older 3 are in college and 1 was studying abroad), getting groceries, preparing the home office to transition to 100% work from home for both me and my husband, etc. The second week was still busy but I felt a little more anxious and maybe depressed. Week 3 was when my anxiety peaked and I think it’s when I cried the most, not to mention I think it may have been the week when all the kids started really getting stir crazy. Remember, they are all older teens and young adults and are all used to their independence so being stuck with all their cars in the driveway is a little crazy. Yes, we have lots of cars in the driveway and street so it looks like we’re having a party…trust me, it’s no party in here.
going to grad school to become a Doctor in Physical Therapy. Here’s the clincher, he was going to start grad school in the fall but recently got accepted to another school he’d rather go to which starts in May…MAY. They have redesigned their first semester to have it all online, then he moves for in person classes for the fall semester (hopefully). It’s a lot all at once. I’m not sad that he’s grown up and moving to another state far away for grad school, I’m grieving the fact that I have Stage 4 cancer and I want to soak in every single moment and my first born child graduating college is a ceremony I just wanted to see, cry, and soak in. Yes, it’s about me, but it’s about him too because I know how hard he has worked to do well and finish an undergrad science degree in the honors college in 4 years. Sigh. This Friday, the university president will have a Facebook live commencement event; thank you social media, he graduates via Facebook.
time he (and I) left the hospital, it was fall. We lost summer. Now with Covid, by the time it’s over, it will probably be summer, so we lost spring too. Here’s the deal, IT’S A BLIP IN TIME and with Stage 4 cancer, I love and LIVE for ALL blips in time and having time in general, by trying to be grateful always, and trying to always find the magic. I emphasize ‘trying’ because it can be really hard sometimes. This is just a blip in time to be a little less selfish and a little more self-less for people like me, or your parents/grandparents, or even for a complete stranger. ‘No one should seek their own good, but the good of others.’~1Cor 10:24
For the last couple of years I’ve lived with a steady undercurrent of uncertainty and occasional fear and sadness from a diagnosis of Stage 4 metastatic cancer. Daily, I have prayed for more time, less fear, maybe for my cancer to miraculously disappear or at the very least, remain stable for the next 50 years. Cancer has forced me to face mortality, the fragility of life, and the real possibility of death sooner rather than later. One author compared living with Stage 4 cancer to walking around with a bomb strapped to your chest not knowing when it may explode. Now add coronavirus.
amazing doctors, nurses, and support staff. About 4 years ago one of my original doctors that helped navigate my cancer journey retired and I cried my eyes out. He was the one who called me with the news that my cancer had returned the 2nd and 3rd time. He researched new therapies and called different surgeons and oncologists; this busy doctor made me feel like I was his only patient for the 6 years that I saw him. I love all of the people that cared/care for me. What a difficult job they have trying to comfort and encourage patients, while also doing their jobs and what’s medically necessary. The impact that caregivers have on our lives is pretty astounding. Having cancer comes with baggage; fear, sadness, uncertainty~ it’s a dark time and medical staff play an important part. No matter what is happening in their lives they are tasked to care and love hard. Dr. M and Dr. D, my prayers are with you and I love you both hard.
part time getting all A’s. He still gets a little tired writing but that is coming along. Here’s my mom struggle…before the stroke he was a normal teen boy doing the push and pull; the pushing of my nerves while trying to pull away into his own adulthood. I get it, I’ve had to let go of my other two and that’s how it goes. After the stroke, he became my baby again. It was an incredibly difficult time and sometimes when I close my eyes I can still see him lying in that bed in the ICU and it makes me cry. There are things I can’t even talk about without choking up including the last night we spent at the hospital together, praying, crying, and talking about all that had transpired, before 
being discharged to come home. Now that he’s about 95% back to being a normal teen boy, there’s that push and pull again, and I have to relearn it. As one radio DJ said, it’s like a hard break up. For me it’s like breaking up, getting back together, then going through an even harder break up again. Makes me sad but I know it’s necessary. Motherhood is hard and time flies. Besides Alex, my oldest is graduating college in a few months and planning grad school farther away, and Audrey is studying overseas this whole semester. It’s a mixed bag of sadness and joy.
what will hopefully be his last procedure having to do with his stroke last summer. Afterward, while Alex was in the recovery room, the doctor came in and told us that all of the vessels in his brain looked normal and that he shouldn’t have another stroke due to AVM in his future. Done. A few hours after leaving the hospital I was alone in my car headed to the grocery store and I started to cry which then turned into weeping. I couldn’t stop. I realized that since Alex’s stroke in August, I was remaining strong and focused on him and his recovery, trying to keep his and my own spirits up, and now, I was letting it all go. All I felt was an overwhelming sense of gratitude. August and September were a blur of worry, grief, and tears and now, these were tears of joy, gratefulness, and relief.
focus on my own stuff, which was kind of a blessing. Here’s the lesson in that, when you focus on others you focus less on yourself, it’s a good thing most of the time. I honestly didn’t even think about my scan until the night before. I got the results today and I’M STILL STABLE!! My cancer is still there but slow growing and as my doctor said in his text, ‘nothing to worry about.’ Tears, actually, lots of tears.
It was a tough 6 weeks. What sustained me and gave me energy? Love. Love is a superpower; love beyond any words, love that took action. My fierce momma bear love gave me the energy I needed to take care of Alex and to be there fully for him. The crazy love I received from my home team: my husband, kids, parents, friends, Alex’s friends and teachers, the parents of Alex’s friends, etc, helped sustained my spirit and kept me secure that yes, the world at home and around me were also taken cared of. The love Alex and I felt from the nurses, staff, work friends, acquaintances, and even wishes from social media strangers was incredible. Love does make the world go round and life always moves forward. ‘It is good to love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much performs much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is well done.’~Vincent Van Gogh
Anna's Lipstick Journey 