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last night i crept downstairs and knelt by your side as you slept, snuggled in with your grandmamie.  you stirred and i kissed your sweet face, hushing you back to slumber.  i miss your sleeping weight on my chest and your little breath warm on my neck.

 

 

today i picked up a nasty and costly little bottle of magic mouthwash from the pharmacy.  I don’t have any ulcers thankfully, but i am experiencing some mouth pain that i could certainly do without.

 

here’s a photo of me from last thursday during my first treatment.

 

here’s a photo of our last nursing session just before i left for treatment.

the first night after my treatment was awful.  nugget sobbed hysterically in my arms, giving way to heavy sighs between her defeated attempts for true comfort until she finally fell asleep.  i cried, and cried, and cried.  and between the tears i apologized over and over to my sweet baby girl for being sick.

last night was thankfully less painful.  she fell asleep with my mother and only had to be quietly lulled back down once.  thank god for small miracles.

as for me, i felt pretty nauseated yesterday and today, and the meds for that make me tired.  today, i really started to feel exhausted.  we went out for some quick errands this morning, but i’ve since spent the remainder of the day in bed.

yesterday afternoon, shortly before 12:30pm, i nursed my sweet baby girl for what i can only pray was not the last time.  i sobbed silently, my tears dripping onto her curls while a swarm of my closest friends and family buzzed around the kitchen.  i was losing my religion in the living room and the day was only halfway over.

my mother is back and she stayed with nugget while nugget daddy worked from home.  barbara and martha took me to chemo.  despite having loaded up on ativan, i cried most of the way there.

i wore a top that would provide easy access to my port, which had been slathered with the emla cream and covered in saran wrap for at least an hour.

patients are only allowed to have one guest accompany them to the treatment room.  i had two, two that would not be taking “just one” for an answer.  marla, my oncology nurse, happily pulled up another chair to accommodate my posse.

then another, and senior, patient, as all the other patients seem to be, swung the treatment room door open and announced, “well!  all the good chairs have been taken.”  i wondered if i’d gotten one of the good ones.  i hoped so!

marla drew the curtain so she could access my port.  i told barb and martha that they would be watching, because i couldn’t really get a good look at the action and wanted to be sure my friends suffered along if there was indeed any suffering to be done.  there was not.  i think it was worse for them.  then the two of them chatted about how they’d like to be nurses except for, well, all of the gross stuff.  cute scrubs had been really, really appealing, but simply couldn’t trump dealing with blood and needles.

the dynamic duo was relentless in their efforts to keep me entertained.  as i was showing them my phone that nugget had rendered the antenna unretractable on, martha cracked, “you’re phone has an antenna?”  i replied with a smart, “shut your trap!” which sent senior patient #2, coughy mchacksalot, into a rage of laughter and then into a, well, fit of coughing and hacking.  note to self – keep wiseass cracks down to a dull roar in the treatment room or suffer the wrath of coughy mchacksalot.

treatment went fairly well.  i had no reaction to the test dose of bleomycin.  i took the extra dose of ativan she offered.  (duh!)  at one point i was having some pain, almost like a burning sensation when i took a deep breath.  so marla switched my iv bags and checked my lungs.  whatever it was, it subsided and i finished up my day 1 of treatment with no real issues.

well, i never made it to the movies.  i didn’t think i’d be able to keep my eyes open through it!  the vicodin and ativan are keeping me drowsy and just a little loopy.

i have two incisions from the port insertion.  both were completely covered with large steri-strips, which i’ve had before with no problem.  yesterday, the skin at the edges of the strips started blistering, peeling and oozing. my mom, an rn, decided i really needed to call my surgeon.  i did and thankfully he returned my call quickly.  he said i needed to go ahead and take off the strips.  so, while he was still on the phone i began the torturous task.

as the strips came off, so did the scabs over my incisions and the blistered patches of skin (and then some). holy hell, that hurt!  the larger incision bled.  when i peeled the last strip all the way off, it was still attached to a flap of tearing skin.  i  grabbed my eyebrow scissors and snip-snipped.  ick.  nugget daddy ran to the store for some dressing supplies

by this afternoon it had finally stopped oozing, but it’s still nasty and painful.

tomorrow is the come-to-jesus meeting with the oncologist.  i’m really, really nervous.  we’ll find out the results of the bone marrow biopsy and pet scan.  we’ll know what stage it is and what nodes are affected.  he’ll tell us what treatment he thinks will be best, when i’ll start and how long it will last.

i can feel myself shutting down more and more with each tick of the clock closer to the appointment time.  nugget has been nursing like crazy today.  my precious baby girl… i’m so scared for her.

i’m not even sure to where to start.  remember that fever?  it finally went away.  then it came back.  a second set of bloodwork later, the doctor still thinks it’s viral.  i get  a chest x-ray to rule out pneumonia.  then i need a ct scan.  then i need a biopsy.  then the biopsy has to be done under general anesthesia by a mediastinoscopy, and a bronchoscopy is thrown in for good measure.  now they think I have hodgkins.

i know that there are readers who will get this so much more than others that have already heard it from me.  my biggest fear?  what if I have to have chemo and stop nursing my daughter?  it’s going to break her little heart (and mine) if she looks up at me, her mama, with her pleading, beautiful blue eyes and signs for her nursies and i have to say no.

i can’t say any more than that right now.  i just can’t.  this fear is crippling me and the tears won’t stop.

“one moment in her presence and you can forget the rest. for the girl is second best to none…”

2/19/07

a year ago, today we welcomed our daughter into the world.  she had already been a part of our world for months, but this, this was her big debut.

it was scary.  it hurt.  a lot.  a whole lot.  nothing went according to any of the well thought out plans, not a, b or c.  there were drugs, fevers, emergencies, scalpels, no time for tears or fears and then, plenty.  slice.  pull.  snip.  and just like that, our star was born.

her ten tiny toes, her perfect mouth, her little hands that held on to our fingers, they were all small miracles.  the sum of her parts, she was the biggest miracle of them all. did all of these people swarming around us

know?  did they know she was the one?  the one of so many infertility treatments, the one ivf protocol that finally worked?  the one embryo that implanted?  the only one that would ever be a baby in our arms? the one dream that we dreamt for oh-so-long that finally came true?  we knew.

the 365 days that followed helped fade some of my feelings over the whole experience, how it all shook down that day and over the week that we spent there.  or maybe now i just don’t have the time and energy to fixate on those memories.  i’m too busy chasing after nugget, picking up her toys, reading her story after story, too busy being her mommy.  and i love every single moment of it; i live for it.

“she’s the one.”

2/19/08

one

today i tied bows for my daughter’s first birthday party invitations.  there will be cake and ice cream, balloons and presents with bows.  there will be singing, giggling, champagne toasts and tears.  i hope it will be everything my little girl could dream of, if she knew to dream of these things.  she is everything i have ever dreamt of, my every birthday wish come true.

last week my friend and i exchanged emails discussing an acquaintance’s serial mothering-by-convenience.  half pint pixie recently blogged about the over-used excuse “happy mommy = happy baby” and said this:

“sometimes you need to suck it up and get over your sense of entitlement to 8 hours sleep, to sitting down without a baby attached to you, to getting your own way. sometimes you have to be the bigger person and let go first.”

sure, i’ll be getting my shower sometime before we go out this afternoon, but right now my daughter wants to nap in mommy’s lap attached to the boob.  so, she will and the shower will wait.  “happy baby = happy mommy” in our house.

on an only musically related note, we used to sing and dance with the nugget to this commercial when she was a newborn because, well, she loved it.  and since the choreography is ridiculously disney-esque, it did in fact make me happy as well.

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