Happy Mother's Day!

                                              Me 8 1/2 months pregnant on Mother's Day 2013

                        

Last weekend we visited my parents in Denver. The girls were thrilled that we spent the night, played at the park, and had Grandma and Grandpa all to ourselves. They were so happy to be there that when I announced our plans to leave the next morning, they were quite distraught.

Until I told them Grandma would send them off with a small bag of miniature marshmallows. Things were okay then.

Even so, as my mom waved good-bye to us from the front porch just as her parents used to wave to me as we pulled away from the haven that was their home, Claire was concerned for me. On this particular trip she had really internalized that Grandma and Grandpa were my own mom and dad. She then wanted to talk about Daddy’s mom and dad – Gangy and Pop Pop. It seemed to be on her mind throughout our little stay. So, as Grandma waved and Claire thoughtfully munched on her marshmallows, she said:

“Mom?”

“Yes, Claire?”

“I miss Grandma.”

“I know, Babe. We’ll be back to visit. We’ll see Grandma and Grandpa soon.”

Silence.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you miss Grandma and Grandpa? Don’t you miss your mom and dad?”

And, then it clicked in my mind. However shallowly or deeply, Claire had realized that I, like her, used to live with my mom and dad. Now, I don’t. Don’t I miss them, she wondered.

Her question to me stung because even if it was on a very basic level, I think she knew that someday she won’t live with us. She’s talked about it several times since that drive, and I know she’s processing this somewhat distressing piece of truth – children don’t live with their parents forever.

At least not in this life.

I have also been processing this truth – what it means for me as a mother myself now, what it meant for my own mom, and what it meant for my mother-in-law. What it means to any mother who has already or will one day say goodbye to living with her child.

In this week before mother’s day, I have read many essays and thoughts and posts on the topic of mother’s day. Many feel guilt that they are not now doing or have not done enough. Others are overcome with joy at being celebrated for work that often goes unnoticed. Some feel sadness or even deep despair that they are not yet a mother. Some say they’ve never felt that mother’s day was about them, that it is about their own mother. Whatever your thoughts on mother’s day, mine have never been complicated – even struggling with infertility, I don’t think I felt more or less valued on this day celebrating the mothering, nurturing women in my life. I do feel a very strong emotion now, though. On this particular mother’s day.

Gratitude.

My little girls still live with me. I get to see them every day and participate in and witness their lives simply because I’m their mother. That alone might be worth the infertility struggles, the pregnancy battles and scars, and the frustrating moments of parenthood.

I still have many years to live with these children. Side-by-side. And, to me, that’s something to celebrate.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the women who care for others in this sometimes confusing, frustrating, wonderful life. May you find something or someone to celebrate today.

Claire is Five

Every so often my friends post messages on Facebook to their children. Almost always it is to wish them a happy birthday. Usually they also express gratitude for the miraculous life-change of becoming a mother. Often, the phrases include “thank you for making me a mother,” “these last X years have been amazing,” and “the day you were born was one of the happiest days of my life.”

Well, five years ago today, Claire made me a mother. And, truthfully, it was one of the happiest days of my life. Having said that, the five years we’ve spent as mother and daughter since that rainy April morning . . .  Well, they seem too loaded to simply say how happy I am to be her mother.

I don’t think I can frame my love for Claire in such a simple, happy way.

Every bit of Claire’s life, and my own subsequent “changes for the better,” has been extremely hard-won. From her conception to potty-training to keeping her alive, every “change for the better” has been a huge undertaking – the results of which are not yet seen.

For example:

Infertility:

Becoming a mother is normally pretty central to an LDS girl’s plan for her life, and for close to five years, that life plan just wouldn’t come for me. And, whether it is because my own body is stubborn, or because a reluctant, stubborn, sweet girl just wasn’t ready to make her appearance here on earth, those five years felt long and difficult on my end. I said many begging, pleading, questioning prayers during those years; however, if Claire was hesitant, she wasn’t alone in her feelings. I definitely had reluctance of my own when pursuing motherhood. Honestly, I wondered if it was really worth the effort. While women all around me were getting pregnant right on cue then complaining about sleepless nights and challenging toddlers, I was undergoing invasive procedures, having embarrassing monthly exams, and taking drugs that made me feel like throwing up.

All this with no baby in sight.

After undergoing fertility treatment for two-and-a-half years, I had my own ‘come to Jesus’ moment and felt peace with the Lord’s plan for me. I didn’t know what it would be, but I finally decided to trust that a childless life would be happy.

Less than a month later, I discovered I was pregnant with Claire. It was a long wait, but once I accepted that Claire wasn’t guaranteed to be mine, suddenly she was. She was worth the wait. She was worth the lesson learned.

Babyhood:

Parts of Claire’s newborn weeks were rocky and challenging, but it was almost all because I didn’t yet know how to be a mother. She was a dream-come-true. I was completely smitten with her silky shock of black hair, her small body curved against my chest, and her ‘baracuda’-style of nursing.

She was my everything.

Until signs of Leukemia brought Claire’s babyhood to an abrupt end just before her second birthday.

She was still my everything, but my feelings on motherhood and my own daughter were much harder to discern and even to believe.

Cancer:

Claire was ultimately diagnosed with Leukemia 3 months after her second birthday. The range of mother-like emotions I went through during her first six months of treatment was pretty much at the ‘SAVE MY BABY!’ level. It was really the following two years of maintenance where I felt my easy-come love for her meet with resistance.

She was turning three. Maybe that’s it.

We had to potty-train. That could definitely be it.

She was on personality-altering and mood-changing steroids. Maybe that’s it.

She was in pain for two weeks out of every four. I know that I can be a challenge to live with when I’m not feeling well. So, maybe that’s it.

But, often love took a backseat to the duty of consistent clinic visits and hospital stays and medicine schedules.

I hate to even think about it.

Even though we have been finished with her treatment for six months now, I am still processing the effect of her illness on our mother-daughter relationship. Maybe I can write my way to an understanding sometime in the future. Until then, I do feel much gratitude on her birthday, and the gratitude I feel is most definitely for her.

By having my sweet, intelligent, silly, stubborn, giggly, beautiful, spirited, imaginative Claire, the Lord teaches me on a daily basis. He teaches me with the very words I use to reprimand, discipline, explain, encourage, and show my love to Claire. My poor Claire could very well be mine – frustrations and all - because she needs to hear from her mother the exact same things her mother needs to hear from her Heavenly Father.

She and I – we’re in this together.

She challenges me to be better than I think I can be. She constantly asks through her actions if I will still love her no matter what. She watches carefully for my sometimes less-than stellar reactions, and she lets me have another go at it when I fail. Because Claire is mine for a reason, and she refuses to let me settle for less than an eternity with her.

So, dear Claire, I commit to an eternity of perfecting myself with you. I will do everything in my power to make sure it is so.

Happy 5^th birthday, my firstborn, my challenge, my Survivor. I love you forever and always.

From the Front Lines

When the Unthinkable Happens to You: 7 Things That Helped Me

     source

Discovering Claire’s cancer was one of the most pivotal moments of my life. I had so many thoughts, one of which was, “Things like this don’t happen to me.” I’m sure others have had this thought when faced with an insurmountable challenge. If you are one of those people, or if you will be someday, here are a few things that I’ve learned:   

1.     Find gratitude for whatever makes it ‘enough’:

“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more.” - Melodie Beattie

Throughout Claire’s treatment, when I was feeling grateful, everything seemed to be better than it actually was. Instead of feeling angry about Claire’s disease, I felt grateful that we only lived 3 miles from one of the best children’s hospitals in the nation. Instead of feeling cramped when my mother-in-law, then sister, lived with us in 1200 square feet of space for a combined 12 weeks during those first 6 months, I felt grateful that they were both willing and able to serve us. Instead of being angry with God, I felt grateful that He trusted that I could endure the trial and become better. Gratitude made whatever I had at the time enough.

What can you find to be grateful for? Cling to it with all that you are, and ask in prayer for help to see any good thing.

2.     Let it go:

The idea that you have a normal life is over. At one point during the most intense parts of Claire’s treatment, I looked down at the kitchen floor. I was flabbergasted at what I saw. LAYERS of food caked the linoleum under the table. With a toddler and a baby, it was probably only 3 or 4 days worth (okay, maybe a week), but it was disgusting. Despite the gross factor, it had to be okay. I had been at the hospital everyday with Claire that week for rounds of chemo. I had to let go of any embarrassment I felt that the babysitter saw my house like that because . . . it didn’t matter. Not that week. I give you permission to stop cleaning your house, or whatever it is that falls to the bottom of your priority list.

3.     Ask for help:

If something really overwhelming has appeared in your life, then something else will have to give. It might be your normally clean house as was my case. It might be yard care, or car maintenance, or bill paying. When we initially came home with Claire from the hospital, Dustin and I both panicked that some germ lurking somewhere would make her sick enough to be hospitalized. This was a real concern. Claire’s immune system was completely gone. I worked up the courage to ask my visiting teachers to organize a cleaning group to come to my house to sanitize every single surface – door knobs, window tracks that might have harmful mold, every wall and ceiling, furniture, cabinets inside and out, etc. It was a big job that would have felt too overwhelming for me to tackle on my own in those front line days. A group of 6 or 7 women came and took the house by storm. It was amazing. Ask.

4.     Take Control:

I heard the words, “Let me know what I can do” many, many times in those first weeks and months. I usually didn’t have an answer for them. I knew that the offer was sincere, but I didn’t know how to ask for help. Dustin on the other hand was an expert. If someone said that to him, he always gave them an assignment right away. He asked for yard care, babysitting, dinners on clinic days, etc. If you asked, Dustin had something for you. Most often, I was the benefactor of his requests. I learned a great lesson from that. Although it doesn’t feel that helpful when someone says, “Let me know if I can help,” it can be, if you decide it is.

Make a list of things that someone else could do. Keep the list in your pocket. When someone asks what they can do to help, and they will because they don’t know what you need, pull out your list and give them an assignment.

5.     Accept your circumstances:

Denial helps no one, especially not you. One time, when Claire was hospitalized for neutropenia, we roomed with two teenage boys. One had a cancer that was requiring severe rounds of chemo and radiation to shrink the tumor. The other had an ongoing blood issue since childhood. He’d been hospitalized repeatedly since he was a toddler. It was easy to think we were more fortunate than they were – to downplay our own difficult circumstances. DO NOT DO THIS. Comparing gets you nowhere. Recognize your own difficulties and do what you can to make them better. Just because someone else seems to have it worse off than you, that doesn’t mean you don’t also feel overwhelmed, frustrated, pained, sad, angry, etc. Your feelings are legitimate. Be honest about them.

6.     Shrink Your To-do List:

Make your list like you normally would. Then read it once. Then throw it away. You don’t have to do any of those things. Maybe everyone knows of your difficulties so it’s easy to do this. Like when I would apologize to someone for not calling them back in a timely manner. Their response was almost always, “No worries. You’ve got a good reason.” They were of course referring to Claire’s Leukemia. In many ways, this made it easy for me to have lower expectations for myself. But, what if your difficulty is private, but just as consuming? You still need to learn to say, “No.” You can’t do the fundraiser. You can’t help with the wedding. You can’t volunteer for the Christmas play. No one needs to know why.

7.     Confide in a Friend:

For me, this was most often the Caring Bridge blog we wrote to keep friends and family informed. Just writing the words helped me to gauge where I was and how we were doing, but a thousand times better were the comments and emails that would come after we had posted an update. It was proof that someone cared. Someone was listening. Someone else was hoping and praying for us to succeed. Other times, it was confiding privately to a good friend. If your difficulty is not something you can share publicly, I encourage you to find one friend who can keep a secret. A friend who can listen and not judge. A friend who loves you.

Hint: If you are not currently ‘on the front lines,’ I encourage you to BE the friend for someone who is. Believe me, it will come back to bless you tenfold.

What has helped you when you are hunkered down in the midst of challenges? I’d love to know. 

See this post for advice for those of you who want to help someone who is currently on the front lines.