Throw back Thursday — I wrote this piece when we were on vacation last month:
Here I am, once again, blogging by the pool on the magical island of Kauai. My absolute favorite place on this earth. We came here on our “cancermoon” in 2012 to center ourselves before my surgery and chemo. The island worked its magic and we got back to San Francisco ready to face my cancer head on.
We were also here on Kauai that dreaded day when Dr. Smith called to tell us that IVF didn’t work. Earlier today we walked by the store and bench we sat on in Hanalei when the sad news was delivered to us. We got a little emo remembering that day – then looked down at Nora in her stroller and felt like we won the lottery!
This trip, we’ve come full circle. It’s been 2 years since I finished treatment, I have a full head of hair again and my beautiful, perfect daughter is here with us (only piece missing is crazy Maisey).
It feels so nice to be reclaiming those sad times and to *finally* rewrite our story.
But I can’t help but wonder and feel scared when Paul says things like “we have our whole lives to watch Nora grow and take her on adventures”. Last night at dinner he said something along those lines again (a perfectly natural statement for any new parent to marvel about) and I quietly whispered “what if I don’t have my whole life to watch my baby girl grow and thrive?” And told him that I feel scared and sad when he makes grand, long-term statements like that. I could see Paul processing my statement and; for the first time in a long time, he just sat quietly and looked at me with love. Normally he’s so quick to say “You’re fine now. And you’re going to be fine” but this time, he didn’t give me a canned answer. He just accepted my feelings and didn’t try to fix the situation or dismiss my fears. His eyes were sad, I could tell part of him wanted to be the cheerleader and dismiss my negative nelly thoughts — but I’m so glad he didn’t. It was only a 2 minute exchange, but I felt closer to him than ever. The reality is that I might get cancer again. or I might not. That’s it. There’s nothing more to it. It may or may not happen. But having already been there, I really don’t want to go back.
I also think that all new parents feel a sense of mortality when they bring a baby into the word. I think it’s natural to want to be there for your child no matter what and to wonder what would happen to your child if you weren’t there. It’s scary to think about whether you’ve had a history of cancer or not.
I look forward to every milestone with my precious, gorgeous, smart Nora. But I don’t allow myself the luxury of looking too far into the future. I just enjoy every single moment of every single day with her and my wonderful husband. Life is damn good right this very second and I am so thrilled to be living it!