Wee Bitty

It's beginning, the return of baby items lent out to friends or passed along to family.  Each time something new appears, Channing asks if it was his or whether or not he used it.  The questions are quickly followed by a sincere conversation with regard to how our new baby will now have a turn 'right, Mom?'

This item in particular fascinated him, our family bassinet.  It was made by my grandfather for my mother and her brother.  In turn, the babies on the Henderson side of the family, my sisters and myself included, have all slumbered in it.  

Here is Channing, just three weeks old, during a weekend at Horseshoe.  While it does have a stand, the basket alone makes for a fantastic mobile sleep spot for tiny babies.

As an aside, the blanket was only placed in the basket with Channing for the purpose of taking photos.  He was never put to sleep like this-on his tummy and with a blanket. 

Jenn, after a recent visit with our folks, sent it north once again for Sarah & I to use come September.  Our niece, Kinsey, has outgrown it, and while soon the days of soothing dollies to sleep will be upon her, there are other wee bitty babes waiting their chance to become part of this family tradition.  

And here is Channing three years later.  He was curious as to whether or not he'd still fit.  Obviously, he did not. 

And yes, my son can rock fancy socks like no one else.  He has a small collection, mostly striped.  

My oh my, how he's grown.

Red Umbrella-An Update & Too Much Fun

I have yet to figure out how best to communicate health updates with everyone via FreshPicked.  Do I pick a day each week and share the previous week's news?  Do I post updates as things happen?  What to do...what to do...


Today, I'll share what's happened since my last post.  I imagine as time passes and this all really starts to unfold, a routine will sort itself out.  


On the baby front, my numbers are looking good, and I'm feeling great.  Last Monday, my HCG level needed to be 500.  It was 772.  By Thursday, it should have been close to 2000.  It was close enough to my target of 4000 that the labs for this week were cancelled.  Yea!  My progesterone level was a very healthy 26.4.  This is probably all mumbo jumbo to you, but bottom line is that Baby Flynn is doing well.  Very well to date.  Our first ultrasound is scheduled for next week, we'll find out just how many babies are cooking in there and get a more accurate due date.  If you ask Channing, there are FIVE babies in there.  FIVE.  He has five growing in his belly too.  Four Sophies and one Kendra.  


On the cancer front, my genetics tests came back normal.  I am not genetically predisposed to breast cancer nor are any of my sisters.  Hooray!  


I had a visit with Dr. O'Leary this morning.  He confirmed that the wound from my lumpectomy is healing quite well.  The excess tape has been removed, and the stray bits and pieces of the stitches previously poking through my skin have all been trimmed off.  Yea!  My margins were good.  .7 to 1 cm around the invasive cancer.  He did find non-invasive cancer within the margin and advised that if my pregnancy were taken out of the equation, he'd go back in and remove more tissue to get a larger clean margin in that area.  However, between our baby and the long term plan, he feels it is best to leave things alone for now.  If we did nothing, it would dramatically increase my odds of recurrence within the next two years.  We have plans though, big plans, once Baby Flynn arrives.  We did discuss the 'when' part of the plan.  He didn't want to discuss future surgery at all.  I told him I have to know what's coming down the pipeline.  The timing of my next surgery all depends on how my body responds to the chemo and what they find with scans and other tests once Baby Flynn is here.  Only time will tell.  My next appointment is Monday.  Michael & I will meet with my oncologist, Dr. Gesme, to discuss chemotherapy.  


As I'm rereading the above, the voice in my head changes from my own to that of the teacher in any and every Charlie Brown television special, 'wha...wha...wha...'.  Either are truly better than the sound of my actual voice currently.  I can speak in no more than a whisper thanks to this nasty cold that will not go away.  


Channing thought for a minute he found my voice underneath the bed covers this morning, reaching under and pulling out a fist-full of 'something'.  He promptly shoved it into my mouth.  The look of disbelief and disappointment on his face when my voice didn't immediately start to work was priceless.  He patted my cheek, 'It's OK, Mommy.'  Sweet, sweet boy.


He's been having lots of fun as of late with a red umbrella that magically appeared on our doorstep.  I discovered it as we pulled out of the driveway yesterday morning.  It was there, leaning against the door, in the shelter of our porch.  From a distance, it looked like it had a note tied to it.  Closer inspection revealed it did not.  Given the style of the umbrella and the thoughtfulness of the gesture, I had my ideas as to who the mysterious benefactor was.  After a quick email, my suspicion was confirmed.  Maxine!  It was Maxine!!  This beautiful, red umbrella, physical confirmation of the love and support of the friends and family rooting for us in this battle, has become the source of all kinds of crazy fun for Channing.  


It's for hiding.

It's for twirling.

It's for marching.

And because Maxine has a soft spot for Channing in her heart the size of the Grand Canyon, I can also share that it's been used for seeking shelter while peeing.  

These things.  These are the things that are going to lift our hearts and our spirits with joy and with love and get us through the times in the coming months, sure to come, that are filled with fear and fatigue and all sorts of other ickiness.  

As I said before and will continue to say in the days ahead.  Let it rain!

Red Umbrella

In the past week and a half, I have learned two things, two very important and monumental things.  One:  I am pregnant.  This new life that grows within me is too new to be talking about, yet it is already woven so tightly into this story that keeping the news to myself would be like telling a half-truth.  I am barely four weeks pregnant.  I’m sure you’re wondering to yourself why in the world I would share this news so soon.  After miscarrying twins in July, WM & I’d agreed to keep the news quiet and close the next time around.  Well, next time around is here, and you already know.  I.  Am.  Pregnant. 

Not just pregnant, but over the moon with excitement.  That part’s important as you read on.  Very important.

I have breast cancer.  It’s stage II invasive ductal carcinoma to be precise.  What?  How?  Truthfully, I am still reeling a bit from the news and how quickly everything has moved.  In summary, I’ve had two biopsies, one for my breast and one for my lymph nodes.  The first, obviously, did not have the results I would have liked.  The second, came back clean.  Good news as that suggests the cancer has not spread elsewhere in my body.

I had a lumpectomy on Thursday.  The cancer was successfully removed.  The margin was large and clean.  Well, for the most part.  There was some non-invasive cancer that appeared a little closer to the edge of the margin than the doctor would have liked.  In the grand scheme of things, it amounts to nothing.

The grand scheme of things?  Well, with being pregnant, it unfolds something like this:

I start with a lumpectomy.  Chemotherapy will begin with my second trimester.  Apparently, you can do chemo when you’re pregnant.  Who knew?  Certainly not me.  Chemo will continue until I’m 32 weeks pregnant.  Baby Flynn is due mid-September.  I am uncertain at this time how close to full-term I will deliver.  Per Doctor O’Leary, my surgeon at the cancer center, ‘once the dust settles’, we will deal with the rest.  That means a double mastectomy and reconstruction. 

Shocked?  You’re not the only one.

I can tell you this with absolute certainty.  I can do this.  It is my goal to do so with dignity and grace.  How do I know I can do this?  I am filled less with fear and more with fierce resolve.  WM is my rock.  This past year has proven that ten times over.  There is no one-NO ONE- I would choose to travel this road with but him.  WC is my reason.  In the early days after losing Sophie, he was my reason for getting out of bed each day.   I do not want to miss out on one second of his wild and precious life.  He is the reason I will fight this disease even on the days when I find that the fight is tougher than I ever imagined.  Our baby is fuel for my fire.  What better motivation than a wee one yet to come into the world?  That, and I have a bitty angel in my corner.  Sophie’s looking out for this mama.  She is indeed. 

I need to share just one last thing.  I don’t like pink.  Ironic isn’t it?  Anything and everything having to do with breast cancer is emblazoned with the color that to me is like nails on a chalk board.  With the exception of one or two shades, pink makes my skin crawl.

Since, the moment, Dr. O’Leary delivered the news, one song has been running through my head over and over and over and over.  Red Umbrella.  Faith Hill.  I begin this battle in conjunction with my own one-woman campaign.  I already made myself a shirt.  I will wear it with great determination.  Please note, pink is distinctly absent from the design.

So let it rain, it’s pourin’ all around me

Let it fall, it aint’ gonna drown me

After all I’m gonna be okay, so let it rain

Faith  Hill