I have a village. My village is large. It spreads from coast to coast. It crosses oceans and continents. I am blessed to have this village of support. They say it takes a village to raise a child and that village is curing me and helping me raise my daughter. If I am seen as strong, it is because of my village behind me. It is my stepmom who has always welcomed and cared for my daughter and me. It is my aunt who takes me on walks, doctor's appointments and shopping. It is the many, many meals family and friends have bought and cooked with love. It is the care packages and greeting cards that show up randomly and bring a smile to my face. It is the old friends that have reconnected and the new friends who have become like family. My village is vast and strong.
As I walk into the doctor's office for my next chemo treatment this week, I don't walk in alone. I walk in with hundreds of people behind me, with countless greetings of love and prayers. Even when I am worried and scared, I never feel lonely. I have never felt this supported in my life.
THANK YOU for being being part of my village.
Wednesday, March 22, 2017
Sunday, March 19, 2017
Bald takes Courage
They say that bald is beautiful, but I think bald takes courage and courage is beautiful. Whether it is a big meeting at work or a party, it takes courage and confidence to walk into a room with my head held high and smile on my face. Even with a scarf on I get stares and questions that are both unasked and asked.
I remember my mom being uncomfortable with her bald head and how beautiful and happy she looked when her hair started to grow back. Part of it was that she was cancer free and part of it was her new found confidence that had disappeared because of her bald head. I remember how physically uncomfortable she was in wigs and the fears that it would fall off. I remember thinking 'she is going through so much, and now she can't even feel comfortable in her own skin.' I have a wig, but why should I make myself more uncomfortable, when this is my reality? This is me.
Last week, my daughter said "mommy, you need to buy new hair." I told her, I don't need new hair, because I'm beautiful without it. I told her that no matter what is on my head I am beautiful because beauty shines from the inside out. We had a conversation on how other things make women beautiful like being caring, kind, generous, and of course smart (I had to throw that last one in there). And I told her that mommy is happy and that shows in my eyes. The next day, I happily rocked my bald head, because I wanted this lesson to be more than empty words I teach my daughter. I want her to know they are real and in order to do that I must live them. During parent teacher conference, my daughter's preschool teacher said my daughter is very self-confident. I like to think that I had something to do with that. When I am doubting myself or in the midst of an awkward conversation about my lack of hair, I remember the beautiful girl I am raising, and I continue smiling.
Yes, bald takes courage, and courage is beautiful.
I remember my mom being uncomfortable with her bald head and how beautiful and happy she looked when her hair started to grow back. Part of it was that she was cancer free and part of it was her new found confidence that had disappeared because of her bald head. I remember how physically uncomfortable she was in wigs and the fears that it would fall off. I remember thinking 'she is going through so much, and now she can't even feel comfortable in her own skin.' I have a wig, but why should I make myself more uncomfortable, when this is my reality? This is me.
Last week, my daughter said "mommy, you need to buy new hair." I told her, I don't need new hair, because I'm beautiful without it. I told her that no matter what is on my head I am beautiful because beauty shines from the inside out. We had a conversation on how other things make women beautiful like being caring, kind, generous, and of course smart (I had to throw that last one in there). And I told her that mommy is happy and that shows in my eyes. The next day, I happily rocked my bald head, because I wanted this lesson to be more than empty words I teach my daughter. I want her to know they are real and in order to do that I must live them. During parent teacher conference, my daughter's preschool teacher said my daughter is very self-confident. I like to think that I had something to do with that. When I am doubting myself or in the midst of an awkward conversation about my lack of hair, I remember the beautiful girl I am raising, and I continue smiling.
Yes, bald takes courage, and courage is beautiful.
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