i love you, too-too.

his hands, sticky with maple syrup,
find my face as he crawls across the bed toward me.
he smiles and kisses my cheek and nuzzles into my neck.
mama...you are sooooooo beautiful.

through tears, i respond, "i love you, baby. thank you."

i love you, too-too.

he curls his tiny body into mine,
and asks if we can watch dinosaur train on my computer.

my three year old is my medicine.
better than the percocet,
better than the ativan,
better than the antibiotics.
and there is no overdosing on his sweetness.

i am doing well.
my abdomen was opened from one hip to the other.
lymph nodes? no cancer.
ovaries? no cancer.
operation radical-hysterectomy? success.
menopause will have to wait.
we kicked some cervical-cancer-ass.

two weeks. two weeks to see what path we take.
will this be enough?
will there be more?

i will leave that to the doctors to worry about.
in the meantime, as i type,
liam is attending his first day at school.
we have halloween costumes to plan.
summer produce to prepare for the shorter days ahead.
i have photos to edit.
lessons to plan.
and friends to catch up with.

life is good.
i will never say that again
and not really mean it.

deep breath. repeat.

meditating on this poem
sent to me by earth mama, and
advocate for goodness everywhere,kimmy:

Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

butterflies

no matter what the news, good or bad, happy or sad, there is always poop to be cleaned. motherhood grounds you. - my wise friend, marni

today, i lost my mind.
more than normal.
i kept waiting for my body to just stop.
i waited for the signal that it was time to roll up in a ball
and seize responding to the world around me.

laughing one minute; incapacitating sobs the next.
feeling every emotion from
sad to ecstatic,
anxious to resolved,
pissed-off to terrified.


i waited for the people-who-come-to-take-you-away
to come
and take me away.


after dealing with insurance issues for 48+ hours,
(my diagnosis came in the middle of
switching my insurance over to cobra)
and my surgery almost being cancelled because of it,
(have i mentioned that i despise insurance companies?)
i finally appealed to the right person
and, miraculously, got the approval just in time.
just.
in.
time.

when i got home from seeing doctors,
getting blood drawn,
and picking up prescriptions,
the chopster was waiting for me.
he wrapped his arms around my neck.
worried about my a.m. meltdown said,
you know what, mama?
what, baby.
it will be ok.
i know, baby.
i love you, mama.

in the end. i am a mama.
and no matter the news.
i am what i am.

the road not taken

i'd rather you be a raging bitch and be alive.
-nitza-pizza-with-an-n, dear friend and fellow girlie-girl.


in one week, i will be clutching the arm of the nurse
who encourages me to get up and walk.
i will either be smiling through gritted teeth,
or possibly sweating through my first hotflash
and on an emotional rollercoaster.

when my oncologist makes the cut
my ovaries will be singing out
should i stay or should i go?
he will decide, once he gets a chance to
really look at them, whether or not
i get to keep the goods (my ovaries).
if not, then i will win what's behind
door number two: immediate menopause.

and seriously? i am not complaining.
i am standing.
i am breathing.
i am present.
and i don't care what i have to go through
to stay this way.

having a catheter for two weeks or more?
no problem.
having to give myself a shot every day
to thin my blood?
bring it.
not having energy or the ablity to gogogo
for four to six weeks?
i got it covered.

menopause...i can handle it.
it isn't too far away anyway.
right?

and the silver-lining no matter the decision?
no more wasted cabinet space with big boxes of
monthly feminine paraphernalia.
hallelujah!