Mrs. Connelly & Dylan

Ms. Cronk & Taylor

Dylan in the midst of asking her gazillionith question

Taylor begging me to stop taking pictures.

first day of school 2009

Getting out of the car, Taylor seems as though she may vomit...Dylan's in rare form

Posing in front of the school

That's my undershirt not my stomach hanging out there...

Dylan's desk

question

How can you be a stay at home mom with multiple young children and NOT cook? Anything. Ever. Hmmm.....

Just wondering.

feeling numb

The Evan finished his bar exam today. When I asked him how he felt, he texted "feels numb". I can relate. Sometimes numb is good. It lets you catch your breath, allows you to hang out for a minute in peace. It doesn't stay for long, but it's good while it lasts.

yay

The girls are back in school. The house is now fairly quiet for about 6 hours a day. Can I get a "WOO HOOOOOO!"?

My grandma forwarded this to me today. I think it's got some lessons important enough to share.

Written By Regina Brett, 90 years old, of The Plain Dealer, Cleveland , Ohio "To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me. It is the most-requested column I've ever written. My odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more:"

1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.

2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.

3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.

4. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.

5. Pay off your credit cards every month.

6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.

7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.

8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.

9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.

10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.

11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.

12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.

13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.

14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.

15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.

16. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.

17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.

18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.

19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else. 20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.

21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.

22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.

23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.

24. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.

25. Frame every so-called disaster with these words ''In five years, will this matter?".

26. Always choose life.

27. Forgive everyone everything.

28. What other people think of you is none of your business..

29. Time heals almost everything. Give time, time.

30. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.

31. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.

32. Believe in miracles.

33. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.

34. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.

35. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.

36. Your children get only one childhood.

37. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.

38. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere..

39. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back.

40. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.

41. The best is yet to come.

42. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.

43. Yield.

44. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.

good news/bad news

The results of the PET scan show that the lesions in Mitchell's liver are just about gone! Great news. Unfortunately the lesion/nodule in his lung is hanging in there...It is about 3 mm larger than the first PET. Granted 3 mm is so small, it's almost nothing, right? Also there is a decent reason to believe that the nodules in his lung are becoming cavitious. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Basically, Mitchell will have to continue chemotherapy for the next 3 to 4 months. At the end of that time, there will be another PET to determine what will happen next. It still seems sketchy, but I'm learning to live with it.

again

This morning Mitchell had another PET scan; the results for which will be read tomorrow morning by the oncologist. I hate the anticipation of these appointments. The closer it gets; the more nervous I become.

letter to the media

Dear American Media Machine,

Please drop the King of Pop story; I myself am sick of it. I don't care whose sperm created which child. Nor am I concerned about a crazy person's $48,000 a month pharmacy bill. MJ's music hasn't been any good for about 20 years. And, unless I'm eligible for a hefty check resulting from his estate, I don't care if he has a will. The dude was C-R-A-Z-Y with a capital C. He's gone; let's let sleeping dogs lie. Sincerely, Me

a decade

Today's my 10th Wedding Anniversary. Weird... Then:

• Teeny, rundown Chandler house
• Regular screaming matches about stuff like calling about the dryer, planting rose bushes in the front yard, and nothing whatsoever
• Baby Taylor with Baby Dylan soon to follow
• Sasha & Ali
• Practically my whole salary going to child care
• Big, green mini-van...Happy Mother's Day
• Teaching English to snotty 7th & 8th graders
• 30 seemed a reasonable distance away

Now:

• Nice, new Vail house
• Can't remember the last time we fought
• Baby Hayden
• Working from home--no child care needed
• Little, grey compact....I got to choose
• Couldn't pay me enough to step in front of a class full of kids again
• 40 is unreasonably close

more of the same

This afternoon's appointment was a touch disconcerting. When we arrived, we were surprised to learn that Mitchell's appointment had been cancelled without our knowledge. After some scuffling around, we were able to see Dr. Brown's assistant. She was able to tell us that the scan was inconclusive. The spots on his liver "seemed a little smaller", but the spots (please remember until the moment she says this, we are under the impression that he only has one spot in his lung) in his lung "appear to be larger". One of the tumors might be cavitious, but no one can confirm this. Basically a whole lot of nothing. Mitchell now has a PET scan scheduled the morning of July 6. This should give us more conclusive information regarding the lesions/tumors he currently has. We know that Mitchell with continue with chemotherapy indefinitely. Some time soon, they will have to discontinue the oxicyllin plantin because its side effects will eventually leave him disabled, which is something we obviously don't want. More than likely he will continue with the oral Xeloda and the Avastin infusions. On the bright side, there aren't any more metastases, and they still feel it's treatable.

he looks good

Be forewarned. This is something of a rant.... I H-A-T-E it when people feel the need to tell me that Mitchell "looks good". It infuriates me. He looks good so everything must be okay. He looks good so I'm sure things aren't that bad/difficult/shitty/whatever. First of all, he has had this cancer for the last 5 years (at the very least). So the way he looked before we discovered he has cancer may not be the best measure for looking good. Second, HE'S FUCKING GREY! Am I really the only person that sees this? His hands and feet (you know the part that's supposed to be light?)...his are a weird charcoal color. And the skin is peeling and flaking off in ribbons. Looking GOOD! Do they listen to his voice when he talks? He sounds exhausted. He shuffles around some days like he's a hundred. Just because he says he's fine when you ask, doesn't mean he's telling you the truth. There's so much more that I won't even get into. I realize that people say this to be supportive or positive or whatever. But I hate it. No I'm not saying it would be better if they opened with, "Gosh, Mitch looks like shit!" I can honestly say that I don't know what would be better. I just know that I cannot skip around pretending that things aren't serious or scary or forever different than before cancer. I also know that when I look at him, he doesn't look good. He looks run down and exhuasted and frustrated and worried. How can that look good?

fingers crossed

Today Mitchell is off getting another ct scan. I think he was late in getting there as I received several rather terse texts from him which became more terse bc I was misunderstanding what he was asking me for. LO SIENTO!!!! As my brother would say, "By the by" or some other such nonsense, he's getting a scan today. Thursday we have an appointment with Doc Brown about the results. Hopefully those pesky cancer spots on his liver and lung (and that lone bugger on his pelvis) will have shrunk down. I would say "disappear", but I don't want to get greedy.

demands

update the blog

My mother keeps sending me emails with the above as the subject. "Update the Blog". Nothing in the body of the email except for her company's weird confidentiality warning scripty thing which is set off by about 7 continuous rows of asterisks. I find these emails irritating on a variety of levels. First and foremost, the fact that she uses the definte article THE to refer to my blog. Don't ask me why, but it raises my hackles. Coming a close second is the fact that MY blog has become an obligation...And pretty much everyone who knows me knows how I feel about obligations. Truth be told, I have made several attempts of late to do just that, but nothing was funny or peculiar or irritating enough. So there it went, un-updated. It is under severe maternal duress I compose this. Satisfied?

1+1=yikes

2 hours sitting by the pool (yes, we had on hats and a shade umbrella) in AZ equals one screachy, upset Hayden. The journey home was so not fun. Sorry, HayLiz.

i don't believe in that

So some dance mom (yes, I am sneering as I type this) tried to convince me that she limits her kids' tv watching to less than a couple of hours a week because she can't abide Hannah Montana and some other Disney crap show that had caused her to shun tv forever. She made the announcement in that "I'm a more diligent and concerned parent than you" tone that mom's around here often assume. I was waiting for the soliloquy to be followed by a bunch of "my kids' are geniuses rhetoric".

Fortunately I was able to refrain from making shockingly inappropriate remarks by making a snide comment about allowing my own offspring to watch as much tv as they could take for marathon sittings while feeding them high fructose corn syrup.

blech

Mitchell is not feeling well. This cycle is hitting him pretty hard. He kind of looks like he's been run over by a truck, and I imagine that's the way he feels as well. There's been lots of sleeping. Not very much eating. The oncologist prescribed zofran this cycle, but it doesn't seem to be working very well. Mitchell seems to be blaming his super nauseated state on the new meds, but I don't think that's it. I think it's just the cumulative affect of the chemo taking its toll.

six

Cycle 6 chemo today. Went fast. Mitchell doesn't think the pharmacy is even looking at his blood work any more... Is that a good or bad thing? Onset of side affects began much quicker this time around. Before the Avastin infusion was even finished, he was highly nauseated. Yikes.

great expectations

Met with Mitchell's oncologist on Tuesday. Reviewed past labs. Scheduled another CAT scan. Talked about possibilities. I think Mitchell expected Doc Brown to say, "Well Mitch!" Yeah. Dr. Brown does call Mitchell Mitch (quite exuberantly too). "If everything looks good on the scan, we'll stop the chemo!" But that's not exactly what went down. Turns out if the lesions are shrinking, the chemo will continue until they are gone. He did say he'd stop the oxycellin plantin pretty soon bc the side affects are so severe. In a word, it wasn't really what Mitchell wanted to hear.

why i heart kettle korn

• Prevents me from working on more important tasks I should be completing, e.g. laundry, packing for everyone in the house but me, cleaning, reading, working.
• Random, hard as a rock, break your tooth un-popped kernels allow me to practice my filtering while eating skills.
• Eating half a bag while hiding in my bedroom after a long day of sitting in silence brings a stone in my stomach comfort that wasn't there before.
• Love trying to dig corn husks out the space between my gums and teeth with any razor sharp object handy. Woo hoo!
• Salty-sweet flavor satisfies like nothing else can.

15 minutes

The dude who runs the boot camp I attend in the mornings has published some uber flattering pics of me (and others). Check them out by clicking here. Please note: I am wearing black shorts NOT salmon pink sweats...Don't get it twisted.

boppy time

Hayden likes to hang out in her boppy pillow, sans clothing. From her perch, she shouts unintelligible orders at us, which we scramble to follow.

how are you feeling?

This is a question I ask Mitchell probably 6 to 10 times a day. I'm sure he feels like hitting me in the head with a pot every time I do, but I can't help myself. Lately he just pretends like he hasn't heard me and goes on about his slow-going business, forcing me to ask again and again and then demanding, "Are you listening?" Clearly not.

ciclo número cinco

Mitchell endured his fifth chemo treatment yesterday. He was happy because the infusion took much less time than the last four. Unfortunately the culmination of the chemo treatments causes him to feel more poorly more quickly than before. At least he's at the half way point.

fart heard round the world

This lady totally farted during the work out this morning. It was a ripper, too. Because I am immature, I found it hilarious and was unable to let it pass unnoticed. I love it when stuff like that happens...to others!

thank you, easter bunny! bock! bock!

Mitchell and Hayden test out Easter toys.

This is fun, guys!

What's going on?

Hunting, hunting, hunting...

Taylor & Dylan hunt for eggs! Mitchell & Hayden checking things out.

Hayden seems happy with her Easter .

maybe it's not

One of the bad things about living with someone who's living with cancer (aside from the obvious difficulty that he has fucking cancer) is that it constantly hovers between you, unspoken but lurking. It's something you whisper about when people ask, hoping he won't hear. It would be so easy to crawl into some secret hole and pretend, but we don't. We push away those thoughts that come to us in the dark moments. We get up and we do what needs doing.

We are good. He feels fine. Everything is fine.

Even though, maybe it's not. Maybe he's not feeling that well, even though he tells people different. Maybe I'm tired of picking up the slack, even though I say it's okay. And I feel bad for the resentment and frustration that sometimes builds. And I wonder how many moments are left for us. And I resolve to be more aware, more mindful. And then I think maybe it isn't a big deal. And everything really is fine. And I'm making more of it than I should. Maybe I should believe him when he says he is okay. It would be easy. He says he's fine, so he is. But then I think of his silence. The times when I'll look over and find him asleep in the middle of the day, bundled in a comforter on his chair. The way he sometimes makes small noises in his sleep. And I'll look at my girls, and I can feel their worry. And I try to make things more normal. More like they were. But it's not.

my blue eyed baby girl

booty camp?

I was up this morning at 5:45, making lunches and setting out clothes for the girls so that I could attend Booty Busters Boot Camp (trust me, I will NOT be saying that title aloud).

The trainer, Brian, led us through push ups, burpees, squat things and endless jogging for an hour. After about 15 minutes, I was panting and dizzy and felt WAY older than 36.

Triumphs for today's workout: I finished the whole thing AND didn't utter one curse word.

cycle 4

Mitchell had his fourth chemo cycle on Friday. It went much the same as the previous 3. Same crazy long wait between blood draw and infusion start. His appointment was for 9:30; they didn't even begin his pre-chemo "cocktail" until after 10:30. Same marathon visit. I don't think he finished until sometime in the neighborhood of 3 o'clock. In terms of how he's feeling, it's seems to be pretty much the same. He's tired and a little nauseated. The hypersensitivity to cold hasn't set in yet, but I'm sure that will come up any day now. Overall he's doing well.

the life

Sometimes I want to lay around in a adult-sized boppy pillow, while others carry me around feeding me and clothing me and changing me at will. Discerning the subtle differences between my hungry and my tired cries.

new game

Hayden's newest game is manipulation. She has successfully connected the act of spitting out her bink and someone retrieving discarded bink...endlessly. This is a game of which she does not tire, and everyone in the house has become a victim.

not not working

We had a meeting with Mitchell's oncologist this morning to review yesterday's ct scan. Basically he said that although it's difficult to say anything conclusively, he can say the treatment's not not working. Huh? I was really looking forward to something a little more definitive. Granted, it's definitely not bad news. There are no new lesions or tumors and what was there doesn't seem to be any larger, soo.... That's good, right?

quality time

Hayden getting to know Grandma H.

future

Tomorrow, Mitchell is scheduled to have another CT scan which will tell us whether or not the chemo has been working.

third time's the charm

Mitchell had his third cycle of chemo on Friday. We thought for a minute there was going to be a repeat of last Friday's occurrences, but the right people got their butts together and all went on as planned. Of course the infusion started about and hour and 20 minutes later than scheduled so we were there until almost 6:30 on a Friday night. Needless to say, Mitch was not pleased. Hayden and I tagged along and, while the "companion chairs" they provide leave much to be desired, HayLiz and Daddy got some much needed shared nap time in. This time around, Mitchell seems to be having more difficulty than before. A lot more nausea and general malaise. As usual, anything cold is off limits.

just so ya know

Last week was supposed to mark the beginning of Mitchell's third treatment cycle. Alas, it didn't turn out that way. For some reason the kooky pharmacist put the kibosh on things because of Mitchell's blood work. Strange bc Dr. Brown reviewed those very same results with us the day before and beamed, "Mitch, everything looks great!" (Please note this is the only person my husband allows to use that abbreviated moniker.) So it was with much frustration that Mitch departed the ACC. As of now, he has been rescheduled for this Friday around noonish. On the bright side, he was able to have 7 extra treatment-free days.

the sound of silence

It's definitely strange to sit in a room with someone for close to 8 hours at a time and exchange fewer than 12 words. We've discussed the wind, the remote and holding the baby. Woo hoo!

stupid things people say: #1

• I guess your 2008 was worse than ours. Are we in competition for who has shittier life experiences?
• She's getting fat! I didn't realize a 5 week old weighing almost 8 lbs could be considered overweight.
• Oh...You look nice today! Unspoken sub-text: You usually look like hell, so I'm shocked that you've cleaned your pitiful ass up.

just smile and nod

Anytime Hayden and I make a public appearance, people ask me if this is my first. It doesn't matter if I have all 3 girls or just baby and me. Sometimes I answer; most of the time I just smile and nod.

People also love to ask if Hayden is a "good baby". This question confounds me. When was the last time a new mother had to deal with a cursing, thieving newborn? Sure Taylor never slept and most days I felt as though I was a prisoner of war, but she never assaulted me or stole money from my wallet. So all in all, I think she could be considered a pretty good baby.

I also think it's strange when complete strangers will approach me and not only gush over my unknown-to-them infant but also touch/stroke/poke my newborn with what I always assume are filthy, potentially germ-laden stranger hands while getting dangerously close to her face. Can you imagine how startling this has to be for her? Some complete stranger's doughy face 4 cm from her own? Breathing strange breath into her face, making weird, monster-like sounds and gestures? Terrifying.

I do my best not to place both hands in the middle of the person's chest and push them away with all my might. I keep my caustic comments to myself and most days I just smile and nod. Realizing that these are just one of the many joys of having an infant.

I guess I should just be thankful that people haven't yet begun to caution me about the difficulties of having 3 kids.

tender

You know how you've got one or two good friends that practically a million years can pass by without having seen one another, and when you do get back together it feels like no time has passed? There's no awkward silences. No boob-crushing squeezes. Just knowing glances and laughs exchanged... That is one of my favorite kind of friendships. Good to see you, sistah!

sometimes

• I feel unreasonably hostile.
• I don't want to be hospitable.
• I don't want to talk.
• I can't be sympathetic.
• I get tired of the whole thing.

cycle 2

Mitchell's second treatment cycle began this past Thursday. He went in to get the his 2 iv infusions and found out that the oral chemo he'd been taking had pushed his already high blood pressure way up. He ended up having to sit around and wait while they tried to get it down to a reasonable number. A few hours later he was finally getting his infusions--the oxycellin from last time plus the avastin. As with last time, he experienced the super-sensitivity to cold, numbess in his hands and feet, slight nausea plus an added bonus of chronic hiccups. So far his spirits are still fairly high. He was able to enjoy a Valentine's Day feast, but he is pretty worn out. As of now, he will get another PET scan after his 4th cycle to determine whether or not the chemo is killing the cancer.

snowy tuesday

Much to Dylan's delight, this is the scene that greeted us this morning. Mitchell helps with insulation.

9 days

I am mesmerized.

treatment milestone

Mitchell finished his first cycle of oral chemo today. Starting this evening he gets 7 days off. No drugs except the one he takes for his newly diagnosed high blood pressure. I'm hoping some of the side affects he's developed will go away fairly quickly so we can get a short reprieve before we begin round two.

welcome

Hayden Elizabeth arrived on Saturday, January 31, 2009 at 3:33 in the afternoon.

She weighed 6 lbs and 12.9 oz and is 19.25 inches long.

She entered the world wide-eyed and contemplative.

I can already tell she is wise beyond her years.

final countdown

As a good friend pointed out to me, I am just about 36 hours away from my own personal D-Day. Having this induction scheduled since early LAST week has caused me difficulty. Why is that? you ponder. It's like having that awesome vacation planned a year in advance. You're constantly thinking, "I can't WAIT until that freakin' vacation!" I wake up in the middle of the night contemplating uterine tightenings and radiating pains. In the middle of working or watching TV or having a conversation, I think about it. Every time I have a low back pain, I think, THIS IS IT! Only to be devastated. I suppose the positive is that no matter what at 7:30 am on Saturday, January 31, 2009, I will be checking in to the hospital to finally have this baby.

diarrhea

• Stomach cramps
• Loud bubbling noises emanating from my mid-section
• 300 trips to the toilet
• Prayers to the heavens to make it stop
• Adobe mud huts
• Ring of fire

hayden watch 2009

We are currently on official Hayden Watch. Since Sunday, I've been having fairly regularly (although painless) contractions for the majority of each day and night. If history can tell us anything, this will go on for a while longer until my body finally realizes that it needs to get with the program and begin labor for realsies. If my uterus has aged to the point where it will no longer get busy on its own, we have already scheduled an induction for Jan. 31st. Woo hoo!

beginnings

Mitchell's treatment journey officially began on Thursday. He experienced the first of what I'm sure will seem like millions of blood draws. Incidentally, the gentleman drawing Mitchell's blood had the shortest legs I'd ever seen on an adult. You can't really tell from the pic, but they were remarkably brief, his legs.

We then proceeded to a Chemo Meeting with one of the chemo nurses at the AZ Cancer Center. After the powerpoint we were able to tour the Infusion Pods where patients receive treatment. Strangely it was extremely reminiscent of that Freshman Orientation meeting and tour you attend right before you start college. Same nervous feeling. Same quiet conversation with the person you came with about the idiotic question/comment the person over there just made. Same anticipation about seeing just where you'll be spending so much of your time and how it all works. As we drove home turning over the myriad of mild to horrific side effects of chemo drugs, we made small talk. Effectively avoiding the giant treatment elephant riding in the car with us.

Friday was ridiculously busy. 8 am brought ambulatory surgery at UMC for the implantation of Mitchell's Power Port. Standing in the over bright, cramped pre-op room with the business-as-usual prep nurse, Mitchell's nervousness was palpable. The resident performing the procedure looked like she would be more comfortable hanging out in the quad on campus then tunneling into my husband's vascular tissue surrounding his heart. The procedure was over fairly quickly; it only took about 50 minutes. Mitchell was deliberately donning his clothes when I entered his curtained post-op space. He looked dazed but well. The nurse reviewed the discharge notes, directing most of his spiel to me as I was the only one of us who would recall his words.

By the time we finally reached the Cancer Center, we were over 45 minutes late for our appointment with Mitchell's oncologist. We waited briefly before our Olive Garden style pager lit up and began to vibrate, instructing us to "Please proceed to the Pitt Pavilion." Dr. Brown went over Mitchell's PET scan with us. Looking at the 11x14 glossy photo of Mitchell's insides, the dark spots cover his liver were instantly obvious. We were able to count 7 lesions riddling his liver, in addition to two smallish spots on his right lung and left pelvis.

Phrases like "Metastatic Disease", "Stage IV", "still a good chance", "additional treatment protocols" and "radio static surgery" were uttered. People always talk about feeling numb during times like these. I was hoping for numb. Instead I felt hyper sensitized. My eyes turned into big watery saucers. My eyes boring into the doctor's shiny bald forehead. The baby continues to kick and turn. Another doctor barges into the room, unaware that it's occupants are in the midst of receiving earth shattering news. With a loud "OOPS", she exits. Dr. Brown seems to not notice. As I always, I begin asking questions. Taking notes. It helps to make me feel grounded. Mitchell is almost completely silent.

By 1 we are in the infusion pod, the dextrose with the steroid and meds for anxiety and nausea are hung. Later the first chemo drug is administered. The treatment takes the rest of the afternoon and into the early evening. Mitchell is able to sleep for the majority of it. The stress of that morning's surgery and everything else taking it's toll. People come in and out. Cancer patients of all diagnoses receiving treatment. I'm envious of the 20-something with breast cancer who is in and out in under an hour, talking and laughing loudly the entire time.

another thing I like

My good buddy Naomi hipped me to the Hello Quizzy site. I like it. It has a multitude of random, time-wasting quizzes that are interesting and entertaining. You should go there.

http://www.helloquizzy.com

results

The oncologist informed us that there are "spots on Mitchell's liver and lung". Mitchell received this news late this evening over the phone. I haven't been able to speak with the doctor about it, so I know nothing more than he will be doing the additional Evastin injections.

new ground

While watching this morning's Inauguration Ceremony I think about the fact that only a handful of years prior to my birth, my parents' union would have been considered illegal across much of these United States. I recall a morning in 1980 as I walked to school with my brother wearing my Kelly green "The ERA is for my FUTURE" t-shirt when a grown man sneered at me, "You're future is fucked, girl". I can remember many firsts for Black Americans, mostly having to do with athletics and/or entertainment, and hearing my mother in the background, "See, [S]he's brown like you. That could be you one day."

This morning I watch as an exceptional American is sworn into the United States' Presidency. I watch his wife touch his neck as he takes in the events around him. His children chatter and smile excitedly in front of a nation and I am struck by their similarity to mine. I listen to his words and feel a sense of wonder that my third child will be born into a world that is vastly different from my parents' and mine.

37 weeks

My feet have never looked so teeny tiny. My midsection...Never so ENORMOUS. Thirty seven weeks have flown by and I'm knee deep in 22 trips to the toilet per night, itchy belly skin, nightmares of my water breaking in inopportune locales and people constantly asking me, "Haven't you had that baby yet?" That last one has to be my favorite as clearly I am barely sporting a bump.

treatment update

Mitchell's treatment ball is finally beginning to roll. Next Thursday afternoon, we will attend an "Everything-You-Ever-Wanted-to-Know-About-Cancer-Treatment" informational session. The very next morning, he will have his porta-cath installed (that seems like the wrong word when referring to a human) and his first IV treatment will be that afternoon and will last approximately 4 and a half hours.

We still haven't received the results of the PET scan. I'm not sure what that means, but his blood tests that Dr. Brown (the oncologist) ordered all came back "clean".

stair gymnastics

In the moments before you fall down the stairs, you have this surreal cartoon-character moment...Arms flailing, mouth shaped in an "O" making that "Woo! Woo! Woooooo!" sound. And then you fall, CRASH, THUMP, BANG! To land in a heap on the mid-point landing... Gasping for breath and laughing at yourself. You hear Mitchell running for the first time in a while and look up to see Taylor peek worriedly over the top railing. No one thinks it's funny but you. You can't stop laughing. Even though your butt is already sore. Even though Hayden is now performing some wild acrobatics en utero. But it is funny because you can picture exactly how ridiculous you looked as you tumbled down to land in a big pregnant lump.

update

Mitchell had a CT scan today. Although he had trouble with the barium he had to drink last night and this morning, the scan itself went much better than the one he had in the hospital. The scan is looking for any abscesses or abnormal fluid collections in his abdomen. Hopefully it reads clear; he's not too thrilled about the possibility of having to go back on another antibiotic. We shall see... I'm having lots of pre-labor activity. Hayden should be here any time now. Mitchell got the crib set up last night... Yea! And the girls put the bedding on. They did a great job and were very proud of themselves for their efforts. Thanks to the shower and the generosity of others, we now have various and a sundry baby paraphernalia. Every day now Taylor asks me if it's a possibility that Hayden could come "today". The answer now is YUP!

almost there

Being almost 36 weeks pregnant, I am realizing that I am almost done with this gestating thing. Weird. It doesn't seem like that much time has passed. And then I look down at my burgeoning belly, and I feel as though I'm at least 60 weeks pregnant. I don't feel bad per se, just uncomfortable. It's difficult to sleep as I must get up every 40 minutes to empty my bladder and I can only sleep on my left side otherwise my right arm falls asleep and becomes a dead piece of meat that dangles from my shoulder. I have that distinctive pregnant lady waddle, try as I might to walk like a normal person. None of my shirts will cover that bottom part of my belly...maternity or not, so I'm constantly walking around hiking up my pants. By the end of the day, my feet (when I can see them) slightly resemble marshmallow puffs stuck to the ends of my legs. I haven't seen my crotch in awhile. Putting lotion on my calves and feet has become a near impossible feat. And I often feel as though I have a little Hayden-hand hanging out of my cervix.

things known

We now know that Mitchell has more than likely had cancer for at least the last 3 years. We know that he most definitely has Stage 3 Colorectal Cancer and possibly HNPCC, a hereditary syndrome. We know that he will begin adjuvant chemotherapy in the next 2 to 3 weeks, and his treatment will last for at least 6 months. We know that the tumor perforated his bowel which caused cancerous cells to spill into his abdomen, leading to a microscopic spread of the cancer. We know that his cancer is treatable, and that the next 2 years will be crucial to his survival.

intentions

This year I hope to:

• Continue my quest to live in the moment
• Make dinner 4 nights a week
• Really listen
• Be more active
• Save more
• Find furniture for the living room
• Get to the hospital in time for an epidural
• Stay in touch
• Loosen up
• Watch less reality TV
• Read more
• Make those valences
• Use the pool more
• Beat the cancer