In this year after

I have trouble sometimes, in this year after cancer, living between two worlds:

Not one, and not yet the other.

The world of mommy-ing, happily bustling, learning, and growing, and

The world of the sick.

Most days I go with gusto, at full speed, loving every minute of it, but

Sometimes I hurt.

Most days we play and laugh and build and learn and run around with friends, and

Sometimes I ache.

Most days we’re busy from morning to night, and beyond, as I read and cuddle them to sleep, but

Sometimes I cry.

And as I move back to the world of the living with gusto, I am stopped only occasionally in my tracks

By friends who hurt.

By friends who ache.

By friends who cry.

And even by friends who have died.

Two years ago, I could not have imagined friendships like these, but now they are an indelible part of my life.  They remind me how very precious life and love are, and how, when I am feeling most discouraged and unworthy, I still have something to offer.  I have today.  I can raise my children, I can do my research, and I can leave a presence, a legacy, behind, if only I choose to do so.

This pushes me to keep on, through difficulties and through the pain (yes, the @#$% pain is back, as my back ribs will NOT stay in place), and keep making just one more memory for my babies.  Giving them one more hug.  Helping them do “experiments,” and splashing in the kitchen sink.  Doing one more interview for my research.  Writing one more page.  Whatever I can give them to remember me by, and whatever I can give the world of my meager talents.

In realizing that my life may be short, I now have the power to make it count.

I’m honored!  Janie, at The Rising Blogger, honored Toddler Planet and, specifically, One Year Later, as Post of the Day.  Thank you, Janie!



6 Responses to In this year after

  1. Niksmom says:

    THIS is what you should share at the ACS Relay-for-Life. The realness, the embracing life while it’s here —no matter who we are and what our circumstances. The world would be such a better place if we all lived that way, I think.

    I only lurk from time to time but have to tell you: You are such an inspiration. To me. To many.

  2. Susan K says:

    So sorry about those darn ribs. Have you thought about wearing a brace? Just for a while, to give it a chance to stop coming out and maybe firm up a bit back there? I’m not really sure where the ribs are, but I’m imagining one of those ‘back braces’ the make for movers.

  3. tori says:

    I really think this is the part of cancer that needs a book. The part where you are not sick but not yet a regular healthy person. I had no idea it would be like this, no idea that everything I think would be so different now. If I had any way to explain or offer hope I would write a book about it because I really would love to read that other people feel the same (which I am finding from my blog friends). As it is, I am still trying to find my way so I’d be of no help to anyone else yet.

  4. Linda Lawrence says:

    Sorry the pain is back! Love ya! Hug those boys for us! 🙂 🙂

  5. You put what so many of us are thinking and feeling into words…. and you do it so well.

  6. Stimey says:

    It is so difficult to come out of any intense experience. To come out of one as frightening and life altering as what you have gone through must be incredibly challenging. It is a testament to you that you have brought so much passion and industriousness and support to this new part of your life. You are a tremendous person.

    I’m sorry about your ribs.

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