Small Miracles

We often look for big miracles in life. When my cousin Mikey died, I thought I would wake up from the nightmare and realize it was just a horrible dream. I have a friend that physically could not get pregnant. I prayed she would defy science. With a cancer diagnosis, I think people dream of the tumor being gone minutes before the surgery to remove it. I hope for that miracle too, but I've learned to appreciate the small miracles, the everyday miracles.

With the big prayers come so many small miracles, we just have to open our eyes and see them. My husband first found the lump while we were lying down in bed. He rolled over and reached his arm over me. Almost instantly he said "what was that?" The small lump can only be felt when I'm laying down. It can’t be felt if I'm turned or sitting. When the doctor examined me, she said "most people wouldn't have caught that." (Thanks for saving my life A!) It was a small miracle that we found the lump so soon.

When I called to schedule a breast MRI, I was given an appointment in one week and one day. Shortly after setting the appointment the nurse called me back. She said the doctor wanted me to get the testing done sooner because of my menstrual cycle; otherwise I would have to wait until next month. I went in two days earlier. Maybe someone was just really efficient at their job, or maybe it was a small miracle.

When I got the test results to the MRI at 4:15 pm on a Tuesday (the office closes at 4:30), there was one appointment left for an ultrasound and biopsy on Wednesday morning at 7:30 am (the first appointment) or I could wait another day. I took that first appointment recognizing, though not fully, the value of it.

Last week I learned the doctors believe the cancer is in its very early stages, so early I may not need chemotherapy or radiation. The many prayers provided me with yet another miracle. This was the best case scenario!

It was an easy decision to be aggressive with surgery, but with the holidays, there were no surgery appointments available in December. I know the difference a month made with my mom's cancer. It was the difference from them not thinking she had cancer, to having stage 3 cancer. One month, that's what it took! But then...someone cancelled, and I was given two weeks to prepare. A small or maybe the large miracle I was waiting for.

I am a little scared, but with lots of prayers and small miracles I know it will all be ok. My daughter was playing in the first snow fall of the year today and she said "it is beautiful out here." The snow that adults curse and the cold that bites your skin was beautiful to her. I watched her laugh, sing and play. We caught snowflakes in our mouth and we spun around as we watched them fall on our faces. Every snowflake was a miracle. That moment with my daughter was a miracle. She is my miracle. She is right, it's beautiful out here, and I'm not taking anything for granted.

The Many Faces

Sitting in the plastic surgeon's office waiting for a consultation on an unusually busy day, I was struck by the diversity of women I knew were there, because they had breast cancer.  When I mentioned that I noticed he had a number of women that were seeing him today related to their reconstruction surgery, he at first was a little taken aback, maybe he was worried he was violating HIPPA laws, but after thinking about it he said, "yeah, you can kind of tell can't you?"  I am, if nothing else, observant. Five years of supporting my mom and I know what cancer looks like.  But I also know what I need new bigger breast looks like versus, this is just part of my process to save my life.  I know what tired and worn out look like.  I know what I'm not giving up looks like too though.  

As I watched the women, I wondered what their stories were, not just their cancer story, but their life story.  "How did you get here?"  "What other battles are you fighting?" I wondered as I looked at the women who ranged in age, race and ethnicity.   White women get breast cancer more often than other races, but African American women are more likely to die from breast Cancer. But in that waiting room, there was no discrimination by the disease. There were immigrants both European and Latin American. There were women who worked and women with flexible schedules.  There were suburbanites and city dwellers. I wanted to hug them all and remind them that they are warriors.  In the end I decided against it, because well that would just make me a weirdo.  But as I continue on my journey of love, I'm collecting mental snapshots in the waiting rooms.  I will take their many faces with me.  I will make silent prayers and give silent warm wishes. And maybe someday, I will hear their survival stories, but for now I will be a witness from the waiting room. 

Daughter of a Warrior

Daughter: Mama can you carry me?
Mother: Yes.
Daughter: Your owie doesn't hurt anymore? [worried about the biopsy site]
Mother: No baby, I can carry you.
Daughter: Yay!!!!!!
Mother: You know even when mommy has an owie, or is sick, or is throwing up, mommy is going to be ok, because mommies are strong!
Daughter: Yea, mommy is strong and she has girl power!
Mother: That's exactly right baby girl.  Mommy has girl power. 

I will be the warrior my mother was and I hope that it inspires my daughter to be a warrior too.  The myth is that Amazonian women warriors cut off their right breast in order to better shoot a bow and arrow.  Next steps/current life goals...be an amazonian warrior. 

#Jennysdaughter 

#Catalinasmom 

#girlpower 

#warrior

#love

A Journey of Love

...I have Cancer...

I have cancer.  How do you tell people?  "how are you? Me? I'm great, but I have cancer." How do you tell someone you barely know? How do you tell someone you've known your whole life?

I have cancer.  Not all cancer is created equal.  It's not the ovarian cancer that killed my mom, but it comes from the same mutated gene, the only thing her sperm donor father left behind. How do you tell those family and friends who were traumatized by her suffering and loss that her daughter now has a similar battle ahead of her?

I have cancer. How do you tell your motherless-daughter friend who has shared your fears and has healed with her daughter like you have with yours?  How do you share that the breast that fed your daughter has been invaded by a traitor ready to fight you?

I have cancer.  How do you give comfort to those who don't know what to say when faced with their own mortality by fearing yours?

...I have cancer...

Earlier this week, I received the call that I had known for years was a real possibility, and I always feared.  "you do have a form of breast cancer." I scrambled to grab my list of questions and scrolled down to the "If it's cancer..." section.  We didn't have answers to those questions yet.  I didn't cry, not until I said those three words out loud for the first time. "I have cancer." I whispered.  I allowed myself those tears of fear.  Then, I let it go.  

I have this inexplicable feeling.  Everything is going to be ok.  I don't know how I know this, I just do.  It's sort of the same way, before those test results came back I knew this tumor was cancer.  I just knew.  I am scared.  Of course I am scared of the Big C that's not welcome in this C-Club.  But I'm ready to embark on this journey of love ahead of me.  

That is what I have found this to be, a journey of love.  I know the challenges an illness like this brings.  I am not blind to this at all.  I've seen it first hand, but I also know the love it brings. It brings a love  that endures "in sickness and in health." It brings old friends who are ready to add this to the list of challenges and joys they have shared with me.  It brings new friends who are ready to bond with me on whatever level I will let them.  It brings family together to ensure that I don't have to be that reasonable rock I have always been if I don't want to. It brings the strength of the women who endured before me, willing to share their stories, their advice and their warm embraces.  It brings my mom's love that surrounds me and never leaves me. It brings the joy, the hope and the love in my daughters eyes which inspire me day in and day out.  

Yes, I have cancer, but that is just another way of saying I am embarking on a journey of love. 

My First Cancer Scare

I am 35, and I've had my first scare with the big scary C word, cancer. My mom was 42 when she was first diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer.  It's odd that 42 doesn't seem that far away.  Through her experience with cancer we learned that we are BRCA2 positive.

Being BRCA2 positive means that while I have an increased risk of getting ovarian and breast cancer, there are things I can do to minimize my risk and for early detection.  I had genetic testing done at 21, when the idea of mammograms and ultrasounds seemed far off.  I was told when I was tested that I would have many false alarms; my doctors weren't going to take any risks with me.  They were going to check everything out.  This would mean I would have more biopsies in my life than most people do.  Hearing this warning would help me years later.

About a month ago, I had my first "routine" mammogram and a pelvic ultrasound. These routine check ups are suppose to help with early detection. Even though it was a routine check up, it  was emotional for me. I even wrote about how scary these check ups can be. I didn't realize, how much scarier, things could get, then my mammogram came back abnormal,

The last month has been a series of picking up medical records, delivering medical records, more testings, and lots of calls to my doctor, the hospital, and the insurance company. But, it has also been a month of sobering reality.  I realized that I do not take care of myself.  I am a typical Latina.  I take care of my daughter, my family, and work, but not me.  I knew that needed to change.  If I want to be around to take care of those I love, than I need to take care of me.  I know I want to be there at my daughters wedding.  I want to live to be a grandma.  I know, I never want to tell my brother that I have the cancer that killed our mother.

I started working out.  I've worked out three times a week for the past month.  I am watching what I eat and I'm taking more breaks.  I'm hugging my baby girl tighter and randomly holding my husband's hand.  Life is too short.

A biopsy this week showed that I do not have cancer.  The relief is great, but I know the journey ahead of me is still long and difficult.  I have many decisions to make.  I plan on being aggressive in prevention. Someone said "but you have faith and believe in god, why would you want to go through preventative surgeries?" My answer is simple, you have to do your part then God will do the rest.  I will do everything in my control to make sure I get to be here as long as I can.

Knowing that I have difficult choices and a bumpy road ahead of me makes me feel incredibly blessed.  My mom didn't have these choices.  For her, it was too late.  There are also many women who don't have health insurance or the support system I have in place. I am lucky!

I'm ready for this beautiful journey & Thank you for coming along for the ride with me!

I survived my first biopsy! 

She is learning life lessons

May 2016

My daughter is only 2 and she is building her vocabulary, but already I can tell from her words the life lessons she is learning.

"Don't Worry Dada, Mama got it." 
That's right baby, no matter what the task, if it is for you, I got it!  Rest assured I will work hard to never let you down.  And if I do, I will make it up to you! :) Mama got it!

"A skunk is yuck."
Well, yes, this is true.  It is best to stay away from skunks.

"I beautiful" and "I so pretty"
You are beautiful, pretty and fabulous!!!!!! Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise

"Dada and grandma and grandpa love me." 
You are loved my baby girl.  You are loved by people who have never met you and by those who see you every day.  I hope you will always love yourself as much as we love you!

"I had a good day."
May your life be a series of good days strung together.

Words Matter Part 2

A while back I wrote how Words Matter.  I've always believe in the power of words. Maybe that is why I love to read so much.  In high school, Brother Ruhl (an amazing English teacher) taught me about le mot juste or the perfect word.  I remember my first job out of college I was working on a press release and I spent way too much time on one word.  I wanted to get it right.  I believe in choosing words wisely, because words can be so powerful.  They can empower or break a person down.

As my daughter begins to develop language skills, I find myself even more aware of the importance of word choice. We are cautious of the words we let her hear on television or the radio.  We are careful of the words we teach her, but she goes to school and even as toddlers they learn so much from their peers.

Language is so much of who we are as people.  My mom never allowed us to say the words "shut up" or "stupid." They were the ultimate disrespect.  As an adult in my home, "I can't" is like nails on a chalkboard. We have taught our daughter to say "I need help" instead of "I can't"

What words do you let into your home/life? What words do you leave out?

The Sign

Sometimes you get signs and you don't know what they mean and sometimes it hits you like a ton of bricks and the point is so obvious, there is no ignoring it.  Last week, I was hit with a ton of bricks, and it felt surprisingly great!

I am BRCA2 positive, I have written many times about my cancer gene.  I've written about my fears when I found out I was having a daughter, healing from losing my mom to cancer, and living without my mom. Last week, I had some screenings done as part of being proactive for early detection.  It's always a scary thing, even if the test are routine.  You can't help to think "what if."  As I was in the waiting room I suddenly felt very sorry for myself.  I was the youngest person in the waiting room except for a woman my age who was with her mother.  I couldn't stop the tear from rolling down my cheek.  My thoughts included "I shouldn't have to get this test done so early," "this should be my mom's routine test," and "I should have my mom here to ask her my questions about the procedure."  I am usually a positive thinking person, for a moment, I just wanted things to be different.  The lady performing the test was very nice and the test was much easier than the one I had earlier that morning. She asked me many questions, because "we don't get many of these cases." I am always happy to educate.  The more we talk about BRCA2 and ovarian cancer the more relevant it becomes and the more we can all learn. I have always thought if someone can learn from my mom's experience than her death wasn't in vain. 

As I was leaving, I was feeling a little better, but my heart was still heavy.  Then I received a  text message and picture from my childhood best friend.  The message read:

As I was putting my laundry away this morning, this fell out of the pile of clothes.  I don't even know how it got there.  All I know is that it put a big smile on my face.

My BFF & My Mami

My mom sent me a message.  But the way she sent it to me was so significant.  It wasn't a song or a reminder that she is with me.  It was a reminder, that she did not leave me here alone.  My best friend is my angel on earth.  No one knows me better.  No one knows where I came from or where I'm going better.  No one can relate to my broken heart over the loss of my mom better than she can.  I am grateful for her strength, her courage and her love and I know my mom is grateful for it too.  

We are not alone! 

Dear Daughter: A Random Day with Random Thoughts That Could Be Any Day.

My Dearest Catalina,

You are growing up so fast! There are so many memories I want to keep, like this morning when you said "I see the Chicago water," but you meant the Chicago River. I want to remember you yelling "I have girl power" and the smile on your face when we pick you up at the end of the day.  I want to remember your sweetness and your feistyness (even if that isn't a word).  I want to remember your innocence and the tantrums.  I want to always be challenged by you and always proud of your defiance.  I love that you are "bossy," it means you have leadership skills.  I want to hold everything about you in my pocket and keep it near me always.  I know times will change.  You will change.  I will change.  Life will change.  But I hope that you will always feel my unconditional love and the freedom to be who you want to be.  

I love you,
#CatalinasMom

Signed, The Mother of a Really Awesome Daughter

There was a lot I never thought about before I had a daughter, like "why are the 'boy' easy-ups Thomas the Engine?"  My daughter has a Thomas bed, she loves Thomas (and James and Percy).  Pampers received an unhappy email from me.  Below is my latest email to Thomas and Friends Wooden Railway.  Maybe it is a big deal, maybe it isn't, but I'm going to fight for my baby girl!  I hope she won't even know there was ever an issue and by the time she is old enough, she won't notice the lack of girls on a website of toys she would love. 

All of the models under apparel are boys.  I found only one picture on your entire website of a girl.  

My daughter LOVES Thomas & Friends. Toys should be gender neutral.  This is 2015.  Consider this the "memo" if you haven't received it before, and please fix this, before she is old enough to notice (which means immediately).  I'm sure she is not the only girl that is a Thomas fan.  

Thank you,

The Mother of a Really Awesome Daughter

#CatalinasMom

Saddened, but reminded to be inspired

This is a great loss to the nation & I'm deeply saddened by this. Professor Julian Bond was an adjunct professor at AU. I didn't take his class, but I met with him on the suggestion of another professor for a paper I was working on. I did not truly understand who I was talking to at the time, but I left that meeting inspired. There was one take away from that meeting that I was remembering just last week. He strongly encouraged me to write a book and tell the story of my grandparents. I think NOW might be the time to get started on that project. Their story, the history that Julian Bond was a part of, this is the history I want my daughter to know & keep with her as she travels through life. 

Thank you Professor, for doing your part to make this world a better place. Thank you for your encouragement & inspiration. Thank you for believing in a Latina from Wheeling. Thank you for educating and living what you preached. May you rest in peace. #JulianBond

 https://www.splcenter.org/news/2015/08/16/weve-lost-champion

Julian Bond poses for a portrait in Washington, D.C., on June 21, 2011. Bond died Saturday, Aug. 15, 2015, in Fort Walton Beach, Fla. (Nikki Kahn/The Washington Post)

http://www.washingtonpost.com/local/obituaries/longtime-civil-rights-activist-bond-dead-at-75/2015/08/16/12223e12-43e2-11e5-9f53-d1e3ddfd0cda_story.html

The First Day

Dear C,

You started daycare today, or "school" as we call it.  It was undoubtedly one of many firsts.  You seemed so confused by all the commotion going on around you, but you handled it like a champ.  You don't know this, but your father and I were a wreck.  You didn't cry when we left you.  You were more intrigued by the little wooden puzzle on the smallest table I've ever seen.  

You also don't know that we peeked in on you while you were napping.  Mom and dad will never not make sure you are safe and happy, but sometimes we will do it from a distance, when you aren't watching so you will feel free to be you.  

We were so proud when your teacher told us how great  you were doing, that you had a new friend, and that you love books.  I stood a little taller and prouder on that last point.  Of course you are a bookworm like mama.

Then around 2:30pm, I got a call that you were upset.  You had worked yourself up and were crying.  My heart broke.  I wanted to run back to pick you up. I wanted to save you.  It is so difficult, but I'm learning there are some things you will just have to do on your own.  I don't know how to let go and let you experience things on your own, but I know I need to.  What I also know, literally now and figuratively when you are older, is that at the end of the day, I will always be there to pick you up.  

I love you baby girl!

Mama

Self-Love: Mommy's Valentine's Day Gift

It was 8:15 at night, two days before Valentine's Day, and I was washing dishes when I realized I should have decorated the house for Valentine's Day. My daughter would have loved it. She would have loved shiny hearts all over the place, but I just didn't have the time to even think of decorating.  A wave of guilt came over me.  My poor baby was going to miss out.  Then, I decided, I am going to give myself a break.

My daughter is a happy baby, because she is surrounded by love.  She is full of giggles and smiles.  She will get over the house not being decorated for Valentine's Day.  A day of love and friendship isn't needed in our house, because we celebrate love and friendship every day.

I also reminded myself that even though I forgot to decorate for the hallmark holiday, there was a point this week where I was the closest thing to superwoman that exists.  I was answering a press inquiry, while dancing to entertain my kid and teaching her a word in Spanish.  I also reminded myself of the text message I got from my aunt after she saw me quoted in the newspaper.  Her text said, "your mom would be proud."  I reminded myself that for every one thing I didn't get done this week, there were ten things I did get done.  I decided I needed to give myself a present this V-Day.  I needed to give myself some self-love.

Mothers do not do this enough.  We are our own worst critics.  We hold ourselves to unreasonable standards.  We want what is best for our babies, but sometimes we forget that what is best for our children is to be healthy and happy ourselves.

I love my husband, I love my daughter, and this year, I am remembering to love myself too.

Happy Valentine's Day Mamas! 

Snapshot

We have survived another year. As 2014 comes to an end, we begin to reflect on the last year. We take a snapshot of our lives and we analyze it. There have been ups and downs, but regardless of both, this year has been wonderful, because I have an amazing family. My daughter turned 1. There are times I sometimes still can't believe I am a mother, but even more surprising is the fact that somehow I have managed to care for this little life for an entire year. She is by far my greatest accomplishment. She amazes me every day, from learning how to talk to her little independent personality. I can overcome anything, because I am her mother. 

Thankfully, I don't do it alone. I have a wonderful husband that my daughter adores and an immediate and extended family that surround us all with love. My snapshot of the year reflects endurance, love, happiness, and family. Sure, we all have resolutions and we can all be better individuals, but even if this is as good as it gets, then I am truly blessed. My wish for all of you is to find the same joy and blessings in your own lives. 

 Happy 2015!

What Can?

I’ve spent a limited time on social media this week.  The news of Robin Williams’ suicide has hit me like a ton of bricks.  I didn’t know him, but like so many others, I was a fan.  This tragedy affects me a little differently though, because I am a survivor of suicide.  This grief is different than anything I have ever experienced.  I thought I was ok, and that I’m moving forward.  But hearing of Robin Williams’ depression and suicide and the different reactions to it, has brought me back to that dreadful year.

On January 18, 2011 my cousin’s father, and my uncle by marriage committed suicide shortly after hanging up the telephone and saying goodbye to my cousin.  My cousin Mikey, was 17 years old.  I’ve lost a parent. I know that grief, but I know nothing of losing a parent to suicide at the young age of 17.  Four months later, to the day, on May 18, 2011 my cousin Mikey went missing.  He too had taken his life. 

I’ve written before on the hole he left in my heart, and how it is difficult for me to talk about it. I am usually an open book, but this is difficult for me.  For the most part, I remember the loving cousin and friend he was to me.  I miss his love of politics.  There are days, like when I took my daughter to her first bill signing, that I think, “Mikey would have been here with us” or “Mikey would have loved this.”  I remember him often and I tell my daughter about him.  But hearing about Robin Williams brought back, the reminder of how Mikey and his dad died.  It brought back the reminder that there are people out there with smiles on their faces that are suffering so deeply. 

The statements that someone who commits suicide is a coward or weak only brings anger.  Mikey and his dad were not cowards, they were sick.  They were just as sick as my mom who died of cancer.  My mom wasn't a coward, because she got cancer.  In fact, if I had one last chance to speak with Mikey, I would tell him I forgive him.  Survivors of suicide often ask themselves all the time “what if.”  The anger and the questions of what if are useless.  Instead we should ask “what can…”  What can we do to make sure this doesn’t happen to someone else?  What can we do to prevent and educate?  What can I do to make this lonely scary world better?

 

If you suffer from depression or if you have considered suicide, you are not alone! There is help out there.  Reach out to a friend, a family member, a teacher, or a boss.  My question of what if is “what if he would have just called me.” There is help out there, please ask for it.   You can also call 1-800-273-TALK (8255). 

If you are a survivor of suicide, you aren’t alone either.  I want you to know that you are pretty amazing! Just when you think you are ok, something pushes you back down, but you still get up. You still survive.  Take care of yourself and reach out for support when you need it.

If Robin Williams is as close as you have gotten to suicide, I am thankful for you.  Know that your kind words make a difference.  I commend you for wanting to know more. 

I miss you Mikey.  My love for you is strong enough that I am going to let go of "what if," and continue to ask myself “What can I do?”