iVillage published a snippet of a story I wrote.
It looks like this:
And here’s the whole story:
I first felt like a real mom after pushing a 10 pound, 9 ounce baby boy from my body, and I was reminded of my motherhood when baby boy No. 2 arrived, weighing slightly less, yet still more than 10 pounds. “WOW-I’m-a-mom” thoughts continued with every feeding, sleepless night, and overwhelming moment of love and tenderness. But nothing registered a bigger “WOW” than finding out I had cancer, and realizing that mothering two growing boys had more implications than I’d ever thought possible.
Joey (the biggest boy) was almost 4 years old when a doctor revealed the mass I found in my left breast was malignant, and Danny (the smaller and younger of the two) was 18 months old. My first reaction after the dreaded phone call (“unfortunately, cancer cells were found”) was, “OMG, what if I die and leave these guys without a mom?” Nothing scared me more, and every time I looked at my precious bundles, my gut twisted and turned. Maybe I wouldn’t die, but how would I care for kids while puking and pouting about my bad luck. Cancer would probably be easier without kids, I decided in the beginning, and then I quickly changed my mind — my kids were the key to my fight, they would save me.
And they did — save me. Their innocent, simple, and honest approach to life kept me peaceful (most of the time). “It’s only a haircut,” declared Joey while helping shave my head after hair started tumbling from my scalp. And Danny, too young to have a clue about my cancer crusade, helped me keep life as normal as possible. Playgroups, preschool, and family vacations (in the midst of chemo, radiation, and two hospital stays) were not uncommon, and I never did vomit or become as depressed as I’d predicted. Now, don’t get me wrong — cancer did suck. But so did birthing monster-sized children. The point is that life got better. The pain of having babies faded, and those beauties who tore through my body made it clear that the pain of cancer would become blurry, too.
And blurry, it is. It’s been six years since I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Joey is 10, Danny is almost 8 — and “WOW, I’m (still) a mom!”