Gender Reveal

Paul and I wanted to do something special to remember the exact moment we learned whether we were having a baby boy or girl.

So we made a gender reveal video. Hope it brings a smile to your face.

For those of you unfamiliar with gender reveals — we asked our doctor to leave us a voicemail with the gender. I then drove to the bakery and they listened to the message and the baker filled the cupcakes accordingly.  Very hipster/yuppy, I realize. But we didn’t think we’d ever get pregnant so we’re fully embracing all the cheesy stuff along the way!

Oh Baby!

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Well, after a long 4.5 year fertility battle, with a bout of cancer thrown in for giggles, I’m so thrilled to let you all know that I’M PREGNANT!

Baby girl Sieminski is expected to arrive on January 3, 2015!

As a long time infertile, I wasn’t sure this day would ever come. I have to pinch myself every day to be sure I’m not dreaming. Paul and I are beyond happy and excited. We feel like the “pause” button on our lives has finally been un-clicked.  We’re no longer in a giant holding pattern! Woo hoo!

In other news, Maisey is quite excited about this latest development (she just has a funny way of showing it!):

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Cancer Booty Call

Uh huh. You read that right. The Cancer Booty Call. It really exists.

When I was first diagnosed, so many friends and family rallied around me, did their own research and scoured their social networks.  Many of you sent me private notes offering to introduce me to your mother, aunt, co-worker, or a friend similarly situated to me.  I read and re-read all of your offers and had to decide for myself if I wanted to reach out to a total stranger to talk about what was about to happen to me.

In the end, I took two of you up on your offers (thank you Bess and Katie). I ultimately decided that the people you were going to introduce me to were not really “strangers”, rather, they were just like me — and they’d already weathered the storm — so why not take their advice? They must’ve done something right, right?!!!

I placed those outgoing calls and am ever grateful I did.  Being able to talk to somebody who’d “been there, done that” helped give me perspective. Helped me to understand what was about to  happen. Helped me mentally prepare. Helped me realize that I will live and life will go on. They were living proof of that.

At this point, I’ve been on the receiving end of many a cancer booty call from you and/or your friends, moms, aunts, sisters, coworkers and college friends.  It saddens me to think how many of these calls I’ve had with you and your loved ones — cancer is just so stupid… and mean… and everywhere.  But, nothing makes me feel better, as a person and as a survivor, than to help your loved ones as they begin their own cancer battle.

It makes me happy to think that I am now the person that weathered the storm — someone out there weighs the pros and cons of talking to me, a quasi-stranger, and decides to go for it. I know it’s not an easy decision, or one that’s arrived at without much consideration. Just know that those of us on the receiving end of this particular booty call are flattered and happy to help in any way we can.

PS. My check-up with Garrett went well. My white blood cell count was elevated so I had to behave myself on our cross country flight to Andrew and Katherine’s wedding (and at the wedding itself). I don’t have my tumor marker results yet, so nothing to report on that front. Other than that, we talked a lot about the fact that my left implant (cancer and sentinel node removal side) pocket is stretching and my implant is sort of floating out toward my arm pit — leaving rippling and ribs exposed around my fake cleavage. I’ll have to talk to my plastic surgeon and physical therapist in greater detail about this as it’s not G’s forte. In the meantime, I’ve started wearing sports bras to try and keep the damn thing from drifting any further out of the pocket.

It’s that time again

I go to see Garrett for my three month check-up today. It seems like a lifetime ago that I sat in his office after having backslid a lot in my recovery.

Since that time in December, I’ve really gotten my act together. Completed the Mark Hyman 6 week cleanse (and continue to live by most of the tenets of the cleanse). Lost 14 pounds.  Rebuilt my stamina and endurance at the gym.

Don’t get me wrong, I still have a ways to go. For example, I’m currently clocking an 18 minute mile. lol. But that’s a hell of a lot better than before. And my heart doesn’t race anymore. So I’m winning in my book!

Hopefully my tumor markers will come back in range and I’ll continue with this new, wonderful life of NED.

In other news, I recently came across this picture of me from my senior year in high school (check out those eyebrows!)

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I’m guessing that if I didn’t get chemo curls, my hair would be approaching that length by now. But alas, I got the curls — and am embracing them!

Happy Easter to you!

Happy Easter to you!

 

 

 

My Legacy

It’s been a long while since I’ve posted anything of substance.  I’ve not had much to say these days — so I went back into my archives and found this draft post — from October 21, 2013.  I’ve not edited it at all. I figured it was best to just post it — grammar/spelling warts and all. So here goes………….
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Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about my legacy.

Legacy is defined as “something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past”.

For me, as you most of you know, at this point, it’s very unlikely that I’ll have my own biological children. If you’ve been following my blog, you know I’ve struggled with infertility and then cancer struck. After aggressive chemo nuked my entire body, including my ovaries, there’s little possibility that I can use my own eggs for a pregnancy. Hell, I’m still technically in menopause and have no clue if I’ll ever get my period back (TMI? Don’t read this blog then!).

But, all of that said, I still think about my legacy.  When Paul and I were picking our egg donor, her family health history was very important to us. We looked for red flags, like cancer, heart disease, metal instability etc. Obviously, you don’t WANT any of that if you can avoid it. Thankfully, our donor and her family, on paper, lacked those “bad” traits. Though I’m no dummy, that shit can hit her family tomorrow. I’m living proof of that.

Now, that the dust has settled with my own treatment, I realize that my own family will have to grapple with my diagnosis as it relates to themselves and their own families.  My thoughts immediately go to my brother Bob’s daughters.  Will my darling nieces have to get the BRCA gene test? Since I was BRCA negative, will that test and it’s results even be meaningful if they do have it? Will Bob and Sarah worry every day about their daughters’ susceptibility to cancer given that their paternal aunt got it?

I also think about my maternal cousins; but I’m less worried about them as they’re grown women who can make sound decisions for themselves. What about my first cousins’ children? I realize that’s a bit far removed, but I still think about it.

Finally, we all know that breast cancer doesn’t only impact women – men can get it too. For some reason, I feel cavalier on this front. I feel sure that no men in my family will be impacted. But that’s probably stupid of me. So to my brothers and my male cousins — FEEL YOUR BOOBIES. Sorry, it is what it is.

Ugh. I’ve been so busy thinking about me and getting through this ordeal. I didn’t stop to think what sort of reality and worry my DX may have wrought on my family and extended family.

My only hope is that this starts and ends with me. That my body simply went haywire and that’s the end of it.

Geez, reality does bite.

Comfortably Numb Indeed

One of the joys of my new post bi-lateral mastectomy body, is that I have very limited feeling/sensation in my chest.

What, exactly, does that mean, you might be wondering. Well, when I hug you, I can feel pressure on my chest, but I’m not sure how much is too much — so I just hug away, blissfully unaware that I’m making you uncomfortable.  I can feel a seat  belt pulled across my chest. But I can’t, for the most part, feel my clothes on top of my foobs.

That last one is the kicker.  I was out running errands earlier today and was wearing a silk blouse:

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Cute egh? Not so much. Unbeknownst to me, the top button of my blouse came undone — in the middle of Trader Joes — and I didn’t feel it — so it was unbuttoned for a LONG time.  Free show everybody.

When one of your senses is taken away, your others are heightened — or at least that’s what I’m told.  Here’s hoping my sense of reading other peoples faces and reactions to my half nude body in the produce section becomes finely tuned very soon….

Up the Academy

The newest Sieminski family member misbehaved big time on Monday — so we shipped her off to doggy boot camp.  Maisey’s displaying a little bit of dog and people aggression — sadly for me, I’m the person she chose to get aggressive with 😦  Not ones to ever F around, we sought help immediately.

Maisey will be living with our fabulous dog trainers Biggs & Twiggs Dog Rehabilitation and Training for two weeks. Antoine and Valerie will work with her on manners, obedience, leash walking and socialization with other dogs. It’s been 5 days since she left the house, and Valerie sends us nightly update texts with pictures and videos. Maisey’s catching on quickly, but still has more to learn.

On a serious note, Maisey is a big, strong puppy.  When she got aggressive with me, it was scary, I’m not gonna lie. Post-mastectomy, I just don’t have the upper body strength to show dominance over this baby beast. But Valerie and Antoine are the best of the best.  They said she’s just a cute, puppy who’s been spoiled up until now. She’s never been disciplined and just needs to know what the boundaries are.  Thankfully, they both believe she is fully trainable and that this issue can be overcome.

So, for now, our crazy Maisey is in reform school. I miss her adorable face…..
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