Eight Months

Posted on May 17, 2013 by beth

Ferris is eight months old now people. EIGHT. MONTHS. I can’t believe it! Two-thirds of the way through is first year already. Insane!

As for how breastfeeding is going…it’s complicated. Just three hours after I hit publish on my last post, he refused to nurse, and I haven’t been able to get him to nurse since. Which is gut-wrenching. He’s only 8 months old. I really wanted to go for much longer.

And while I think I still will be able to provide breast milk for him to drink, I don’t think I can provide enough for him to subsist on just that, at least for the next few months, so I’m trying slowly to work formula back into the equation. It’s difficult to pump and keep up with his appetite, but I’m trying a bunch of stuff suggested by my lactation consultant friends, and I hope to up the supply just a bit. I’m not sure how this will all shake out, but my end goal is to offer a mix of breast milk and formula and hope he gets what he needs out of it. I never envisioned pumping to be THIS huge of an ordeal. Nor did I ever expect him to fully and completely reject nursing. Or would seriously have just put up with all the biting. I’m frustrated and sad and mom-guilting myself to death.

Anyway.

Dear Ferris,

You are growing and changing so fast right now! Outgrowing clothes, crawling like a machine and eating real solid food by your very own self.

Last month, you were crawling backwards, and rolling and scooting your way around the house, but just a few short weeks after I wrote that post, you were not only crawling forward, but also starting to pull yourself to stand with furniture. And not only are you pulling yourself to stand, but also getting brave and letting go and trying to take steps. Slow down kid! You’re only 8 months old! You’ll be tearing around this house in no time, I’m sure. Grandma told me that your uncle was walking by 10 months, which I never knew before, so I guess it’s in your blood to get up and get moving. Now, if we could just avoid all your little wipeouts, so when I take you out in public I’m not so embarrassed by the bruises all over your head!

You have four teeth now, and I’m pretty sure you’re about to get two more. Which is what got us in all the trouble with nursing to begin with. You want to bite. You LOVE to BITE. I have to be careful what I let you get your hands on, because you will bite the ever-loving crap out of anything that gets near you. I hope that soon, you will start to teeth a little more gracefully. So we can all just get some SLEEP.

More and more of your personality is shining through each day. I can tell by the foods you like and the foods you reject, the toys you spend more time with and the toys that stay at the bottom of the basket, and the things you watch us do and the things you ignore, just what kind of little man you’ll become soon. But, also in a lot of other ways, you’re a blank slate. This first year is the most amazing time to be a parent, everything is shifting and changing and developing so fast. It’s like being able to watch a flower bloom in real time.

We have had a hard week, you and me, figuring out where we both stand with one another when it comes to nursing and bottle feeding. But, I think we may have found a balance finally. I’m so sorry I couldn’t nurse you as long as I wanted, or even as long as I nursed your brother. But, I feel like I really am doing what is best for the both of us. Which is all that really matters in the end.

I love you my sweet bug.

Mama

 

Posted in For the Baby Book, My Boys, This Crazy Ride Called Parenthood | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Chew Toy

Posted on May 15, 2013 by beth

I have a little dilemma with Ferris lately. This actually started out as part of a draft for Ferris’ 8 month birthday post, but I got so into detail about it, I figured it warranted its own post. And maybe someone can lend some much-needed advice.

Ferris is completely and fully refusing formula. And the way I go on and on about how much I ADORE breastfeeding and it’s the bomb and I want to breastfeed forever and blah blah blah, you’d think I wouldn’t even have tried formula to begin with, let alone would have an issue with my kid not liking it.

And really, I don’t have an issue. When I had my lymph node surgery back in March, I couldn’t breastfeed for 24 hours. So I pumped and I pumped and I pumped and I PUMPED to prepare for that day, because Ferris was not quite doing solids yet and was nursing every hour on the hour, around the clock, and I didn’t have a lot of extra milk to part with. Needless to say, we still fell a bit short, and later in the day resorted to the canister of formula that Similac sent us in the mail. And he drank it. Drank it like a champ. So, for a while we came to rely on it. If, for example, I’d had a few margaritas or we had a sitter with the boys for a few hours. I hate pumping, LOATHE pumping, so rather than pump for such occasions, we’d just offer formula. And little by little, he lost his taste for it. Until one night, we are at Kindergarten orientation at Bowie’s new school, and my poor young, childless Brother in Law is watching the boys and lo and behold, Ferris will NOT drink the bottle of formula he made, and instead chose to then scream for the next full hour until we got home. And I tried to give him the bottle when we got home, thinking it was just that he wasn’t as familiar with my Brother in Law, but he literally slapped the bottle out of my hand.

And then I thought it was just a bottle thing. He doesn’t like bottles, he only likes the breast. I tried a few different kinds of bottles, and then one day just decided I’d try a bottle of breast milk instead of formula and, well, it was gone in less than two minutes. It’s not a bottle thing, it’s a formula thing.

(And immaturely, but c’mon, hilariously, I can’t help but hear this song in my head when I’m nursing now.)

Ok, so you’re thinking, “This is still not an issue, girlfriend. Breastfeeding comes naturally to you, you have a good supply, just don’t use the formula. Duh.”

But, an interesting thing has started happening. He has teeth now, and is BITING me. He is BITING HARD. ALL THE TIME. It’s gotten to the point that every time I go to nurse, I am really, really anxious and scared I’m going to get bitten again. It’s like that moment before you get a shot at the doctor’s office. You know it’s coming, you know it’s going to hurt like hell, and there’s not a lot you can do about it. Except to preemptively wince, and hope it’s not as bad as it was last time. (But it will be.)

Bowie bit me two times when he was nursing. After the first time, I RAN to the nearest computer and googled “how to get your baby to never bite your boob never ever again ever.” The basic gist of what I read was to end the nursing session immediately, and don’t offer to nurse again until the next regular time they’d be hungry. And that worked, but a week later he bit again so I did the same thing again and? He never bit while nursing again.

I’ve tried this trick with Ferris about…I don’t know…I’ve lost track…ONE THOUSAND TIMES?!

I thought I could just power through, that it would eventually stop being an issue, that everything will work itself out. Only, that was a month ago. And it hasn’t stopped, or even slowed, it has INCREASED in occurrences. I’ve had to take breaks from nursing (via pumping) to heal up, only to be bitten again 10 minutes into the next nursing session.

I know that this is because he is using me as a pacifier. I mentioned months ago that he nurses for comfort a lot. And since he’s teething and all, he’s wanting to nurse for comfort all the time. And when he’s nursing to eat, all is fine. But when he’s nursing for comfort, then come the bites. Because the kid’s teeth hurt, and he wants to bite things. I’m not faulting him for this, he’s just doing what is helping him feel better.

And I wanted to nurse him for a long time. Longer than I did with Bowie (13 months). But, I don’t see this happening anymore. We’ll suffer through our year, and then move on. It really sucks, when I give him a bottle and he looks up at me with that confused look on his face. We don’t get to have that special bond anymore. Ugh.

But, I can’t go on living like this! I am not a chew toy!

So, the only real solution here is to pump and feed him breast milk from bottles from here on out. But, I’m having problems with that.

Did I mention how much I hate pumping? I hate pumping. I have to sit still for like 20 minutes at a time while I do it (which is not so easy with your little crawler getting into this and that and the other and a 5 year old getting into everything else while you’re doing that). And it does feel better than being bitten, but it’s still pretty painful. And the milk doesn’t flow as easily as it does if you’re just nursing your baby. Pumping = the suck.

I also can’t seem to build up a surplus, which is essential right now, because Ferris is still waking between 2 and 5 times a night to nurse, and I’d need at least a few ounces for each of those times. Also, for when we’re out and about for the day. Unless I want to bring my pump with and try to pump in public somehow, somewhere. (I always knew full-time working moms who pumped had it bad, but the thought of pumping away from home has given me an entirely new respect for them.)

So, I have a bunch of questions for you guys. Like, has anyone reading this done this with their babies? How often did you have to pump? Did you have ways of increasing supply? How did you fit pumping into your regular routine? What did you do about overnight feedings?

Also, when is it really ok to start cow’s milk? Do I really need to wait until he’s 12 months? The formula was milk-based and he tolerated it well, which I once read is an indication that they’ll do fine with cow’s milk. But I also know they have a hard time digesting it.

But, it’s only 4 more months. I will make it one way or another. I’m just hoping I’ve endured my last bite to the boob.

That crap hurts.

Posted in For the Baby Book, My Boys, This Crazy Ride Called Parenthood | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments

Prologue

Posted on April 30, 2013 by beth

I’ve been putting off drafting Bowie’s fifth birthday blog post for some time now, knowing full well it will make me cry. No matter how I try to frame it–I’m sad you’re turning 5, I’m happy you’re turning 5, I’m indifferent you’re turning 5–I’m going to cry.

MY BABY IS TURNING FIVE.

AND THEN MY BABY IS GOING TO ELEMENTARY SCHOOL.

And it’s all happening very soon.

This past weekend, we bought Bowie a new bed. He was still sleeping in his toddler bed, which was just his crib turned into a toddler bed. So, we got him a proper bed for a kid. Because he’s not a toddler anymore, he’s a kid. (Sniff.)

In the spirit of things, we also got him a booster seat for the car, and gave Ferris the car seat. Ferris was of course still in the infant seat, the kind that snaps into the stroller. The stroller that, devastatingly enough, Ferris is big enough to ride in sans infant car seat. So, he’s in the big seat now. And Bowie is in a booster. The kind where he wears the regular car seat belt.

(SNIFF.)

I’m hoping these small graduations are going to somehow prepare me for the upcoming big GRADUATION.

Though I know I will be a puddle of tears on that fateful day. I have cried at all of the preschool graduations that my son was not a participant in. Our preschool is a coop, so we really get to know the kids, and watching them all graduate and move on is just too much. So, when it’s my own kid…

…UGH.

Parenting is hard. So hard. But by far the hardest part about it is watching them grow so fast right before your eyes. You have a baby, then you blink and you have a Kindergartner.

It is also really fun to watch them blossom and change and become the little individuals they are inside. And you watch them do something amazing, like write their own name or play the drums or apologize without being asked to and you’re dumbfounded: I made that.

So when I’m scrubbing peanut butter out of the couch, or picking up the same toys for the 100th time, or nursing the baby for the 4th time in one night, I keep reminding myself: this will all be over someday. It will all be a distant, blurry memory. But I’ll miss it.

The first night as a teenager that they miss curfew. I’ll be wide awake, waiting to hear them come in. And I’ll miss holding that soft head against my cheek at 3 a.m. I’ll miss hearing them sing preschool songs with their tiny voice. I’ll even miss potty training. Yes, even that.

So, as we settle into May here at the Wankel homestead, Bowie’s last month as a preschooler, I am just reminding everyone to slow down and enjoy this. They’re only little once. And for such a short time.

 

Posted in For the Baby Book, My Boys, This Crazy Ride Called Parenthood | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Seven Months

Posted on April 17, 2013 by beth

Ferris is seven months old today!

Just yesterday, he looked like this

And now, he is this

How and why does this first year all go SO SO fast? And somehow EVEN FASTER the second time around?

Dear Ferris,

No doctor visit this month to get your exact measurements, but judging by the lightning speed at which you grew into and then immediately grew out of all of your six month sized clothes, I’d say you’re still growing pretty quickly.

You are now a MAJOR fan of solid foods, pureed and otherwise. Your favorites include sweet potatoes, bananas, avocado and rice. Mama got an email from one of those baby web sites about your development that said you were ready for a sippy cup, so we went out and got you one, and you played with it for ten minutes and then you were over it. And not once did you lift it to your mouth in any way, which is odd because you put EVERYTHING in your mouth. Just not what’s supposed to go into your mouth. We’ll keep working on it.

You are basically crawling now. Not in a forward direction, but you get up on your knees, and scoot backwards and roll around until you get where you want. The crawling forward thing is going to happen any second, I’m sure. You’re already getting into everything at floor level. I felt like we wouldn’t really have a whole lot of baby-proofing to do, but you’re proving me more and more wrong every day.

You have two teeth! The two front bottom teeth have come in, and you wouldn’t let us forget it! You’ve been pretty grouchy, and hardly sleeping at all. I’m trying all the mama tricks in the book for a sad, teething baby, and really all that gives you relief is when the tooth makes its way all the way through the gum. I’m hoping that as time goes on, you’ll get better and coping with this. Because we’ve got 18 of these suckers left to get through, and I do want to sleep for a few hours in a row again. Just once even. Mama’s starting to get loopy during the day. And so much more absent minded than I have ever been in my life.

Today, on your seven month birthday, mama is making her television debut on Good Morning America. You and your brother were such good boys for me! I was a nervous wreck, but we made it through together. I hope you don’t grow up to resent mama for talking about you so much on the blog!

I love, love, love you to bits and pieces. And I wish I could keep you this age forever! But I know you’re going to grow and change and become a wonderful man someday. And that’s ok too.

Love,

Mama

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See ya, March. Don’t Let the Door Hit Your Butt on the Way Out.

Posted on April 13, 2013 by beth

March is over. HALLELUIAH. I mean, seriously.

There was the whole cancer thing, and my surgery. And finding out which school Bowie will go to for Kindergarten. And Spring Break. And my kitty dying. By the 31st, I was so done–SO MUCH WITH THE DONE–with March.

The one and only spectacular moment in March was watching Bowie in his first Big Show with Rock Band Land. THAT was pretty awesome.

WELCOME, APRIL. Please be kinder to me. Not that you haven’t been completely crazy busy, I mean it’s the 13th already and I’m just getting to publishing this post. But, busy isn’t necessarily the same as bad. It’s ok to be busy. I think.

So far, so good. Ferris is growing, as usual. People continue to think he’s two months older than he actually is. He’s got a tooth now (well, it’s popped through the gums). He’s going to crawl any flipping second. He still isn’t really sleeping much between the hours of midnight and 6 a.m. But, all in all, we’re doing really well.

Life without kitty feels lonely. Even though I’ve got my three men to keep me busy and keep me company. There’s just this nagging feeling that someone is missing. I’m sure I will settle into life without him just fine, but it’s taking some time.

Bowie is excited about Kindergarten, and we drive past his school every day. His behavior has also improved immensely. The swearing is back, but he’s sort of got it under control. And the physical stuff has really been better. You win some, you lose some I guess. I am having a really hard time accepting that he’s graduating from preschool. Man, that went by in an instant. And it will be really hard to send him to the “big boy school”, but I think I’m the only one who’s not ready for him to go there.

Emotional roller coaster, this year. Headed down the hill at break neck speeds during March, starting up another huge hill right now, sure to head down that one in May. Arms up and, SCREAM with delight at this thing called life.

 

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Farewell, Old Friend

Posted on April 3, 2013 by beth

A week ago today, when we went to bed, I noticed my 19 year old cat wasn’t feeling well. He hadn’t been feeling well for some time, having bad kidneys and sore joints and just overall being old. But, something was off. He was moving really slowly, seemed anxious and wasn’t acting like himself.

The next afternoon, we went to the vet, who didn’t like the looks of him at all. He’d been dropping weight pretty steadily for the past few years. One tenth of a pound here, two tenths there, he was hovering in the area of 7 pounds the last time we were in. On Thursday, he was 4.7 pounds. As soon as I heard that, my heart dropped. I was in mega denial, but a part of me knew this was it.

His gums were pale, he wasn’t controlling his bowels or bladder very well, he had stopped eating, and he was weak and lethargic. She took some blood just to see where his kidney levels were, gave him some drugs to make him comfortable for the night, and told me she’d call in the morning with results.

I knew the results would be bad. The vet wasn’t hopeful, and couldn’t even pretend to be hopeful to help me feel better. So, when she called with the bad news, she said it was probably a good time to put him down. Especially since we had plans to leave town for the weekend: “You might not even have a live cat to come home to if you left him there. It’s that bad.”

I made an appointment for 3:50. And I tried to fit in some snuggles, but the hours seemed to fly by. Suddenly it was time to leave.

I didn’t bring him in a carrier, we thought bringing home an empty carrier would be too much. Instead I wrapped him in an old towel, and snuggled him for the car ride. I didn’t let him go at all, except when they put in the IV. I held him to the end.

The vet cried with us, and then she said, “I know it’s hard, but you did the right thing.”

And I know I did. But, I felt bad for choosing for him when his life would end. I don’t know, it’s strange. Of course I didn’t want him to suffer anymore, but some part of me wishes his body would have given out on its own first.

Anyway, here I am without my kitty that I had since I was 14. I can hardly remember a time without him. I knew this was coming. I mean, I started writing this post a year ago for Pete’s sake. But still, it comes as such a shock.

How can I even begin to describe to anyone the relationship I had with him? All I can tell you is that we were together for nearly 20 years. The most exciting / tumultuous / important 20 years of my life: half of my teens, all of my 20s and part of my 30s. I went to high school, graduated high school, went to college, got married, graduated college, moved halfway across the country and had children, and my kitty was with me for all of it. Graduations, birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, celebrations, mournings, everything, my buddy was there.

That’s all I can tell you. And maybe you can feel 5% of how I feel about it. There are a lot of jokes and cliches out there about cat owners, and how crazy they are about their cats, and how they can turn into crazy cat people if left unchecked. But seriously, I would hope even the non-cat people could understand the idea of a constant companion, that adores you and wants nothing more than food and kindness from you (and, okay, they want you to scoop their turds), by your side for two full decades. Watching them go from bouncy little kitten to slow elderly gentleman seemingly overnight, which your brain can’t even process because in comparison, you yourself have not really aged all that much.

I had minor foot surgery when I was 15. The first few days of recovery were painful, and I was on some heavy-duty drugs which made me want to do nothing but sleep, and eventually nothing but vomit. Kitty, who I’d only had about a year at that point, was by my side the whole time. I mean, yes, I’m sure he got up to eat and stuff, but every time I managed to open my eyes and look around, there he was, a warm little fuzz ball curled up next to me. And that was him, always there, always offering a snuggle. Or a head-butt, he gave the best head-butts.

There was a period of about a year and a half between me leaving home for college and me getting my own place and being able to bring Nashua there to live with me (well, the landlord was a lot more clueless than my discerning R.A. so I brought him to live there even though looking back I’m sure I could have gotten my ass kicked out on the street). I missed him like hell and it was so fun finally having him back in my everyday life. After he’d been there only a few weeks, I remember running out the door in a rush to go meet up with some friends at one of the local bars, and when I got outside, I could see him looking out the window at me and I actually felt really bad for leaving him behind. And I made a mental note to always be there for him, and to be responsible so I could always be there. Original kid, I tell you.

And now, there’s a big space where he used to be. The house is so quiet, my lap is so empty. It’s hard to get used to. Bedtime is the worst. In the past year or so, I didn’t see much of him during the day. He was old and tired and spent his days sleeping and hiding from the preschooler. But he always came out at night, and when he could muster the energy, he’d hop in bed with us. Even the last night of his life, he snuggled all night on my pillow. Last night as I started to fall asleep, I thought I felt the familiar weight of him on my legs, where he always liked to curl up. This is going to take some getting used to.

I like to imagine him now in his own little slice of Nashua heaven: a huge, green, grassy plain to roam and munch upon; endless sunshine; a person’s open winter coat with the nylon lining to curl up on (he loved sleeping on them); endless supplies of ice cream and frozen waffles to dine upon.

No more rotting teeth, no more upset stomach, no more achy joints, no more dementia. Just a happy kitty again, finally.

I’m trying to remember him back in the day, when he didnt feel like a bag of marbles when you pet or held him, when he would run and jump and play with abandon, when he still had the energy to purr. That’s how I see him in his kitty heaven, or wherever those blessed pet souls end up at.

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Six Months

Posted on March 17, 2013 by beth

The big six month milestone has arrived! Happy six month birthday to the littlest dude!

The dimples. They go on forever. AMIRITE?

Ferris,

This is one of my favorite ages. Every day is a new and exciting adventure. You’re growing and changing so much! It feels like one minute to the next, you’ve added a zillion new abilities, and you’re attempting a zillion more.

At the doctor, you weighed in at 18 pounds 10 ounces, and you gained a whopping three inches in height just since your 4 month check up in January! The doctor measured you three times, and double checked her records, just to be sure. I bet it’s not every day she sees a big guy like you come in!

I don’t know why I was so excited that you were rolling over. Once you learned it, you didn’t look back. You’re rolling all over the place, and I can’t set you down unattended for 5 seconds! Wow, am I in for it when you start crawling! Which is going to happen soon. You mean business. You are already getting yourself up off the ground with your arms, almost getting up on your knees, and you are scooting backwards. Your brother was a lot older than you when all of this started. Slow down, bug!

At first I didn’t think you liked solid foods, but on a lark I bought you some Baby Mum Mum crackers, and you ate them like they were going out of style. So, it eventually dawned on me that you didn’t want to be spoon fed, you wanted to feed yourself. I didn’t even know this was a thing (but it is, many people have since told me their kiddos were the same way), and I totally went with my mom gut on that one. So, I got you some mesh feeders, and you were on your way. Avocado is tops in your book, followed closely by bananas.

Something I learned about you the same weekend that I cracked the food code, was that you prefer to sleep on your tummy. It’s a little panic inducing for an American mama in 2013 to allow her baby to sleep on his stomach. But, you slept better in one afternoon on your stomach than you did in all of your six months since leaving the hospital. I can’t explain it, I don’t like it, but you are a tummy sleeper.

No teeth yet, but they just have to be coming soon. Sometimes you’re SO fussy, and we have NO idea why, and I just know in my gut that it’s teething related. I hope those suckers make their appearance soon, I’m sure you will be in a better mood. And, bonus, it will open up a whole new world of foods you can feed to yourself.

I was pretty preoccupied this past month, and I feel like it slipped right by me. I hope now that things have slowed down for our family that I can pay more attention, be more in the moment with you. Happy St. Patrick’s Day, and happy six months.

Love,

Mama

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YOU GUYS!

Posted on March 16, 2013 by beth

What’s got two thumbs, slightly less of her leg, and is CANCER FREE?

THIS GIRL!

Friday afternoon, I was just doing my thing. Taking care of the boys, cleaning up around the house, waiting for Brien to get home. And out of the blue, my surgeon calls me.

He explained to me that while preliminary testing of the lymph node showed some cells that were a “red flag”, more in-depth testing determined that those cells were NOT from my melanoma, and were also NOT malignant in any way.

I asked, “So…that’s it?”

“That’s IT.”

No more cancer, no more surgeries, I’m in the clear!

Of course, I will still need to go back for checkups and do frequent skin checks, but that’s a small price to pay.

I will be more diligent about looking at my skin, about getting to the dermatologist regularly, and about getting scary looking things taken care of right from the get-go. And I encourage everyone reading this to do the same. And to tell all of their loved ones to do the same. Even if you just have one funny looking mole that you think “is probably nothing.” Go in, get it checked, it could SAVE YOUR LIFE.

Thanks a million times over to everyone that got in touch with me to show support, offer help, give encouragement, say prayers, all of it. I’m grateful and truly touched. The past 8 days of my life would have been a living hell had it not been for all of that love coming my way. Thank you thank you thank you!

Here’s to many more bloggy years to come!

Posted in And how was your week?, melanoma, My Cancer Year, surgery | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

I Wish I Had Good News

Posted on March 8, 2013 by beth

But I don’t.

The lymph node they removed on Monday tested positive for cancer.

I have cancer.

I mean, we all knew that already, melanoma is cancer. Even if they take the malignant mole, and that’s the end of it, you still had cancer. But, it sort of didn’t really sink in until the surgeon was like, yep, cancer.

I am in a bit of shock. And deeply immersed in the Anger/Depression stage of dealing with things. I probably shouldn’t even be blogging about it yet. But, I wanted to keep everyone up on this.

So. Many. People. are coming forward with stories of their mother, daughter, sister, uncle, brother, grandma, father that had the same situation going on, and has been cancer free for a long time. Which is reassuring. But, my case is still my individual case, and the future is uncertain for me right now.

I do NOT do well with uncertain futures.

All I know right now is that, at the very least, they’re going to go back into my leg and, to quote the surgeon, “clean it out.” That is, take the remaining lymph nodes, and see how those look. There could be other stuff, but that’s on the plate for sure.

And recovering from a surgery while knowing you’re going to have the exact same surgery again in the near future is…disheartening.

I wish I were in a better mood tonight, and like I said, I wish I had better news. But, my bloggy friends, that’s where it stands.

Thanks A MILLION for all the love and support, keep it coming. It means so much to me, and it’s helping me get through my days.

Posted in My Cancer Year, sundry, update | 7 Comments

My Last Friday With My Sentinel Node

Posted on March 1, 2013 by beth

Surgery is scheduled for Monday morning. It’s going to be a full day, starting with a check in time of 7 a.m. Then I go to Nuclear Medicine at 9:30 to get some kind of injection that is going to help the surgeon find my lymph node. The actual surgery itself will be around 11:30, and I’ll get to go home at 2 or 3.

It’s not the actual surgery itself that’s making me nervous these days. I mean, come on, I get to SLEEP! I’ll probably wake up more well-rested than I’ve been in 6 months. No, it’s the details of the post-op I’m stressing.

For starters, I can’t breastfeed for 24 hours. So, I’ve been pumping myself crazy for the past week to be sure Ferris has enough to eat. And, I’m going to have to bring my pump with me to the hospital to relieve some of the pressure throughout my day. And then I’ll have to pump periodically for the rest of the day. And night. It’s going to be a blast.

I also have to buy groceries to get us through the whole week. Lots of food that won’t spoil too quickly, that Bowie will eat, and that Brien will be willing to cook. At least for the first few days. Or maybe I’ll just plan to order in.

And then there’s the fact that the very next day, Tuesday, is Bowie’s parent-teacher conference. I know what you’re thinking, it’s just a preschool conference. But, when your child is one of the more…spirited in the bunch, well, let’s just say I just want to be on top of my game.

There’s also that crazy hectic purgatory while you’re waiting to hear lab results. I’m expecting to get good news, the doctors are expecting to give me good news, but there’s always that chance, ya know? It will probably take a few days, which will feel like a few years, to hear back. And I’ll just have to sit and wait. And wait. And wait.

Conveniently enough, this has all taken my mind off of Kindergarten. We find out which school we got in a few weeks. I was all-consumed with that whole process, and now it all seems so trivial in comparison.

Thanks to everyone for your support and kind words these past few weeks. It’s nice knowing there’s so much love out there for me and my family.

And cancer? You can pack your bags and leave. No one invited you. No one wants you. Take a hint.

Posted in And how was your week?, My Cancer Year, sundry | 6 Comments