On Mother’s Day weekend we found out my mom has cancer.
Just forcing my fingers to type that sentence was a feat. I wish I could erase that sentence and make it go away, but that’s not how cancer works.
I’ve never experienced anything like this; it causes a specific kind of pain in your heart. This information is HEAVY and hard to make sense of. It manifests itself as an actual physical burden, pressing on you. I couldn’t breathe. I could barely force out the words to tell my husband when I got home, and it took me a few more days after that to be able to speak it out loud to anyone else.
When she told us, she also said “But you know, I’m fine. I’m okay with this”. And I wanted to scream ‘You’re NOT fine. It is NOT OKAY”. Maybe I did yell it? I don’t remember. And then, I began to try and process it. My mind still, even two weeks later, seems to just be kind of frozen. I don’t even know how to pray; fortunately, God hears every word and thought, whether whispered or sobbed. He does not turn from us when we cry out.
We still don’t have all the information yet, and because of that I probably can’t answer many of your questions. About two months ago, the surgeon performing an outpatient surgery on my mom’s abdomen discovered something he couldn’t quite label. Our nephrologist stepped in and didn’t waste any time in getting more information and second opinions, as well as referring my mom to a colleague who confirmed a diagnosis of Peritoneal cancer. Peritoneal cancer is rare. The peritoneal cavity is essential a special lining in the abdomen that contains many of the body’s organs: liver, gallbladder, pancreas, colon, stomach, intestines, appendix, etc….. so many organs and types, I’ve had trouble reading up on all the information.
At this point we have more questions than answers. Biopsies were performed last week to help determine the possible location of origin of the cancer. We should have a treatment plan in place by the end of next week. What we do know: her cancer is late stage (meaning it is not contained to one location any more and has spread), but it is low-grade (meaning it is slow moving right now). We also know treatment will involve intensive surgery to remove every organ and piece of organ possible, then a chemo wash.
My mom is a crazy strong woman and I want to keep her crazy strong. I want to keep her, period, but I’m feeling pretty helpless. She’s facing a huge war against this cancer; but she’s not alone. Our entire family is standing with her, prepping to fight alongside her in this battle. And behind our team? We’ve got you guys. Her squad. Our friends and family who are rallying around her, ready to lend a hand where needed.
And God, He is our rock. My mother’s life is built on His foundation. God can mend and heal. He has proven to us over and over that He is capable. We’re praying fervently that He does heal her. God, please mend her. My prayer is absolutely selfish; I need my mama. I’m sad and pretty mad and kind of a puddle of feelings right now.
How is my mom doing, you ask? Um…. pretty much ready to rock and continue being a reflection of God’s love and grace and light to everyone she comes into contact with. So, no change? #teammom
Want to rally with us? Follow her story, get updates, and encourage her via her Facebook page: Kelly’s Tribe
Month: May 2018
For Every Mom
Mamas. I see you. All of you.
healthy mamas. sick mamas. single mamas. working mamas. foster mamas. grandma mamas. lonely mamas. birth mamas. teacher mamas. happily-married mamas. teen mamas. heartbroken mamas. brave mamas. aunt mamas. grieving mamas. elderly mamas. hope-to-be mamas. soon-to-be mamas. desperate-to-be mamas. aren’t-able-to-hold-their-baby mamas. ashamed mamas. adoptive mamas. extra-needs-kiddo mamas. overwhelmed mamas. sleep-deprived-brand-new mamas. fierce mamas. struggling-to-bond-with-their-baby mamas. social-worker mamas. NICU mamas. Neighbor mamas. Soccer mamas.
All who mother in one capacity or another are honored this Mother’s Day. Each one of us walks a different motherhood path, and it is absolutely necessary for us to approach one another with love and grace at the forefront. Some of us mamas may be struggling this weekend. Possibly because our mama path involves heartache or painful experiences.
This weekend, Will’s first mama is on my mind and heart. To be completely honest, she is always on my mind. I think when two women mother the same human they are connected in the most unique, heart-binding way. I can’t ever express to her how grateful I am that she chose life for her son. I don’t want to share too many details, because that is her life and her story to tell, but I know she LOVES William and not having the chance to raise him was not her choice. She is God’s creation. He loves her. He grieves when she grieves. So I love her and I grieve when she grieves. I know she is grieving this weekend and I am heartbroken over that fact. It is an impossible situation to bring clarity to and to process in your mind and heart: I am totally obsessed with and completely in love with my son, whose first mother is also completely in love with him yet doesn’t get to see him or hold his chubby hand or kiss his squishy cheeks. Yet together, we are motherhood.
So let’s not assume all mothers feel loved and appreciated this mother’s day. Throw LOVE around like confetti. Be a bringer of grace to those who need it. Look around your neighborhood, family, school, church, and workplace. Who can you identify that might not be celebrating this mother’s day with joy and cheer? Wade into their grief or sadness or shame to meet them. You don’t have to have the perfect words to say and it’s best not to come crashing in with suggestions and solutions, simply acknowledge that they are seen and loved.
We see you mamas! We know today is a hard day but we acknowledge you and your struggle, and more importantly, God sees you and your struggle. He is the HOPE dealer. The JOY bringer. The SHAME eraser. The HEART healer. and you may feel like you are done with breathing, but God is literally the LIFE breather. And if you’re feeling like your experience as a mama, in whatever capacity you’ve performed, is more like a #momfail rather than a #momwin, rest assured that there is nothing you can do or have done to you that can wreck your life so badly that God can’t still mend you and use you in beautiful ways.
Every mama, I see you.
Thirty-Three Sounds Good To Me!
Last Friday was my birthday. Yes, it’s taken me 7 days to write this post. don’t blog-shame me. Maybe if I could get my brain and my body to get on the same page I’d be able to sit down and get something accomplished in an efficient way… but so far that hasn’t been a perk of my new kidney. lame.
Last year, thirty-two felt an awful lot like thirty-one. No big.
This year, thirty-three feels completely different. Only 365 days have passed, but it feels more like 365 years have passed. and I’m on a new planet. and in a new body. with a new identity. and all because of a new kidney.
Since my kidney transplant a little over four months ago, I’ve experienced so much change. Emotional change, mental change, spiritual change, and of course, physical change. All that is to be expected, of course, but you can’t ever truly prepare yourself for something like that.
A common misconception about organ transplants (a misconception even I’d subconsciously subscribed to) is that once a person has receive the transplant, things will return to ‘normal’ and they’ll be ‘cured’. Unfortunately, transplantation isn’t a cure for kidney disease; it’s only one of the treatment methods. The alternative is dialysis. I’ve discovered it’s like trading one set of issues for another. And I’m slowly wading through these new ‘issues’ {you can read more about them here}. They’re all generally minor things (hair loss, mood swings, insomnia, hand tremors, weight gain, skin issues, etc.). Totally manageable and itty-bitty in the grand scheme of things.
One of hardest for me to deal with? The face rounding caused by the Prednisone. Some people refer to this as ‘moon face’ {because your face gets as round as the moon. no joke}. I knew going in to this process that that would be something I’d struggle with. Let’s call it what it is: straight up vanity. Rounder isn’t any less beautiful. I know this and I preach this {even though my body shape is more of the twig variety}. I know round is beautiful because I’ve often been jealous of other women who have curves. But I’ve been struggling horribly with this. It’s mostly that my face isn’t my face anymore. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see me. And that is WEIRD! What if my husband doesn’t like this face? He married a slightly different one. So far though, his only comment has been “you look healthy”. meh, I’ll take it.
I hadn’t realized I was subconsciously letting my struggle with my ’round face’ show outwardly until my five year old Charlie and I were taking silly selfies on Snapchat {like you do}. She made an offhand comment that she liked it better “when I smile with my teeth”. She went right back to doing her bunny ear pose, but that comment stuck with me for days! I hadn’t even realized I’d changed the way I smile over the past few months, simply because my face was rounder and I felt self conscious about it. The reality is everything is different and most of this new Ashley is here to stay, so I need to hop on board and ‘make it work’! {insert Tim Gunn voiceover from Project Runway. You can tack on a ‘frankly I’m concerned’ just for fun…}
Regardless of my inner strife, my birthday came just like it does every year. I’ve never been big on celebrating birthdays. I’m content to just let them pass; which I guess isn’t the norm because every time I responded truthfully when asked what I was doing for my birthday {which was nothing} people were shocked. Chris was determined to make me celebrate at least a little, though, so we did it my way:
The morning of my birthday I met a friend for coffee, then we popped in to Target to ‘just get diapers for Will’. Of course I came out with all kinds of things but… happy birthday to me!
Then Will and I ventured out to the DMV to renew my license. I could have done it online, but I was desperate for a new photo! Last time I took a license photo the ‘no smiling rule’ was in effect here in VA and, you guys, I HAVE to smile in photos. If I don’t smile I look like a Disney movie villain. It ain’t natural. Will spent a lot of time crawling around on the floor, dragging his monkey behind him, and pointing to anything interesting he saw. like beards. dogs. women with beards and dogs. and I allowed it. honestly, the fact that he’s mostly non-verbal is a blessing in those situations. I’d just pretend he was pointing at something else and distract him with a cookie.
For dinner we went to Rita’s. It was a total parenting win and we had no regrets.
Then later that evening I was able to meet up with other foster and adoptive mamas to laugh and cry and eat yummy food. It’s a beautiful thing when women support women, mamas support mamas, and we can surround one another with a tribe to call on and fall on when in need. When that happens, mom’s win… but more importantly, families and children win, because they reap the benefits of having strong, healthy foster mamas in their corner.
The next morning, we had breakfast with my family. Then on Sunday, Chris took me out for lunch {I pretty much just ate chips and guac}. Totally my kind of birthday weekend.
I’ve been so spoiled lately and have so much to be thankful for. I’m working on embracing thirty-three and the new Ashley; one who smiles with her teeth more often.
Foster Care Truths: There is no 'winning'
Some of you may have read this post before; I’m re-posting it after making a few edits. It’s too important not to share again, especially since I know it may help change the perspective of so many people regarding foster care and because I have even more of an excuse to talk about ‘all things foster care’ during foster care awareness month.
In 2016, after our son Will had been in our home through foster care approximately 18 months, his biological parents signed an entrustment {basically signing over their rights to him, placing him into the state’s care and kicking off the adoption process for him}. It was honestly the most brave, selfless act.
That day, and then following the entrustment’s approval in court later on, we got so many congratulations. They ran the gamut from “He is so lucky to have you” to “Thank God he gets to stay with you”. And all of those are true, I think. We are able to provide a safer environment for him and God has provided us with more resources for helping him grow and succeed with his disabilities. And I was incredibly happy to be one step closer to having Will be a permanent part of our family.
I can’t express to you the relief I felt after those papers were signed. The adoption wouldn’t be finalized for almost 10 more months, so I didn’t have true closure, but any progress after months and years of being in limbo begins to lift that invisible burden of worry and anxiety that comes with constantly living in the ‘unknown’ with one of your children. Though I felt relief and we received so much support and love and encouragement… I could not enjoy the happy congratulatory phrases. I had such conflicting feelings battling inside.
Outwardly, I was happy and celebrating in the fact that Will was moving towards permanency with our family. Inwardly, I was mourning. I was mourning for him because he would be losing the potential for connection with the people who gave him life. I was mourning for his parents because they were losing their son. I think when you aren’t an active part of this process, it is easy to view the foster care situation in terms of “us” (the foster parents) and “them” (the birth parents). But I can’t see it that way. And we shouldn’t. It is not a case of us winning and them losing. There is no winning.
I’d been battling these conflicting feelings for a while and unsure of exactly how to express them when I came across this post from Humans of Foster Care. It captured my feelings exactly:
“Terminating parental rights is a very serious thing, and even when it is best interest of the child, or requested by the child, it doesn’t make it any easier.
NO ONE WON TODAY. There were NO “winners” in that courtroom today. No one cheered at the outcome. No one was excited. There was no joy. It was a somber day for all involved. Everyone knew what today meant and it weighed heavy on all of us in the room.
Parents walked out without a child.
A child, no matter the age, walked out without a parent.
There were no winners today.
Today was tragic. Today was hard. I am sad in my heart tonight for all parties because I am human.”
– from Humans Of Foster Care facebook page
There is joy in the process of foster care and adoption. There is joy in our own personal story of foster care and adoption. There is happiness and relief and hope for Will’s future. But God calls us to also share in the sorrowful burden his birth parents are carrying, and only God can provide true healing and peace for all parties.
Today, I hope you’ll take a minute to re-frame your perspective on parents who lose their rights or choose to give up their children to another family.
Please pray for first families. Pray for siblings who may never know one another. Pray for birth parents who may be feeling shame, embarrassment, anger, or loss. They do not win.
Then take it a step further and include all social workers, attorney’s, and judges involved in these types of situations as they make the most difficult decisions that impact so many lives and futures. They do not win.
Next, pray for foster families . Those who take someone else’s child into their home and love on them through painful times. They do not win.
I want to touch on one more thing, since it relates to foster families and how we interact with biological families.
It is sometimes very easy to fall into that mindset of ‘us’ vs ‘them’, particularly if the agency and courts and attorneys subscribe to that mindset as well.
One of my biggest regrets in all our foster care adventures over the years happened with Will’s biological parents. I had the opportunity to come along side Will’s birth mother and father and show my support for them during an important meeting and I didn’t. Now, don’t get me wrong, we did support them and provide them with as much encouragement and love every opportunity we got. Except for this one time. I was intimidated because we were in a big meeting. There were social workers and attorneys and all sorts of people present. It was my first time experiencing this type of meeting; I didn’t know what to expect and I was unsure of the social guidelines. So I chose to play it safe and fall in line with the general atmosphere of the room, sitting across the table from Will’s mother and father even though my heart was screaming at me to snatch my chair up, drag it over to their side of the table, and plop my heinie in it so I could be WITH them during this big meeting. Instead, I sat across from them; which from my perspective seemed more like ‘against them’ rather than simply across from them. I can’t even imagine what it looked like from their perspective. All I know is that because I made the choice to cast aside all boldness and ignore my heart, I sat in awkward fear, which meant I couldn’t comfort Will’s birth mother when she began crying. I couldn’t let them know that someone was WITH them and FOR them. I may not support their lifestyle or their choices, but I DO absolutely support them as humans, whom God created and loves. I support them as Will’s parents who gave him life and love him.
It was one missed opportunity, and yet I still think about it. I’m grateful for the experience though, because now I know better. When we know better, we do better, and there are so many chances we are given to change our own perspective and the perspective of others regarding foster care and the relationship between biological parents and foster parents. There is no winning in these situations. There is no ‘us’ vs. ‘them’. There is only protecting and loving and supporting all parties involved. Easier said than done for us as humans, but God is able and willing. He will heal and mend. It is who He is and what He does.