Whoah BABY!

Howdy friends, old and new!  It's been a few months, which I hate.  As someone who really gets a release from writing, not doing so for this long has not boded well for my psyche!  Life has been HECTIC ya'll!  In any case, I'm back, and hoping to be back a lot more in the coming months.

In case anyone missed the big (BIG) news- we are expecting another little monkey this summer!  Yep- another little C to complete our brood.  We are beyond excited (and at almost 7 months, I'm REALLY looking forward to the end of summer...what? it's only the end of May?  I CAN'T HEAR YOUUUUU! LALALALALA).  Ok, my temper tantrum is over.  So back to the point at hand...three kids.  THREE KIDS PEOPLE!!  Of course it hasn't been the best of times for me to be pregnant.  Ken has been in a clinical trial at MSKCC since the beginning of February, and the hectic schedule at the beginning of the trial pretty much forced him out on disability for a few months.  He's back at work as of this last week, and while it's been nice to feel a little "normal"- being 26-27 weeks pregnant, home with two very busy little people for the first time since before I was showing, has been a real challenge.  Of course, it's a challenge for any pregnant Mama with other kids at home, but me being slightly psycho off my meds doesn't really help the situation.  Yep, I'm off  the loft  as I like to say.  Our sweet little fellow on the way (oh...did I forget to mention? It's another crazy little BOY!), wasn't exactly a planned sweet little fellow, so dropping the zoloft cold turkey wasn't fun (and really still isn't...no wine? no loft? Yep, I'm off my rocker).  I know what you're thinking- why??? WHY C family? Why get pregnant?  The kids a miracle, and I'll tell you why...

I've wanted 3 kids forever.  In all reality, I wanted 12, but I knew 3 was about as high a number as my hubby was willing to go.  Of course, after Ken was diagnosed in 2012, I couldn't even let myself imagine we'd have any more kids.  It was off the table.  No mas bebe.  It crushed me to even think about.  We've had a lot of ups and downs over the last (almost) 3 years.  Good scans, bad scans, ok scans.  We endured the stress of selling and buying homes; which I genuinely did NOT know was THAT stressful until we did it. Maybe it was our life situation at the time that made it so much worse- Ken was working from home full time, couldn't drive, and in all truth was probably still, on some level, recovering from his surgery...and if he wasn't, I was.  I lost 8 lbs in the two months it took to sell our house, and put myself in the hospital with a panic attack on the day we went under contract on both homes.  Our parents got sick, our parents got better, we finally spent some down time with friends...of course, it was around that time we figured out I was pregnant. I was 3-4 glasses of wine deep on Christmas Eve when I realized I was supposed to get my period that day.  Feeling pretty confident that I wasn't expecting, I took a test (I always keep the dollar store ones on hand out of paranoia...rightfully so, apparently).  I walked away and enjoyed the company at my house...it was hours later, when I went in my bathroom to brush my teeth, that noticed TWO PINK LINES.  I thought maybe I was drunker than I thought I was, and took another test to make sure I wasn't seeing things.  Nope.  TWO PINK FRICKEN LINES!  Our first reaction was not "Yayyyy!"  It was more..."OH SHIT."  Something we both laugh at now.  I'm pretty sure that might have been our reaction even minus the brain tumor growing in Ken's head, but that part certainly didn't help.

It took about a week for things to sink in, but by New Year's Eve, Ken was (drunkenly) excitedly texting his parents that if all went well, they'd be babysitting three kids the following year for count down (we are going to a wedding of some fantastic friends).  Just a few weeks later, when we were told about this clinical trial that Ken is currently enrolled in, we also found out that on this particular medicine, baby making is not allowed (it could have, like, 7 heads or something...).  And even if he discontinued the medication, isn't allowed for a year or two following...which would bring us over the mid-30's hump, with kids both in the middle of elementary school, and the likelihood of having any at that point was nonexistent.  So if it weren't for *someone* up there/out there knowing better than us, the dream third baby would have been an impossibility.  I catch myself tearing up at the notion that something I'd always wanted so badly, something I'd given up hope on having, something I thought not really possible; somehow wasn't just possible, he's there...kicking me in the ribs as we speak. Now I just have to get him here safely at the end of the summer (yeah, THAT isn't weighing on my mind, nut job that I am...).

So as you can see, on top of every day busy-ness, we've had a busy year so far.  After an intense first round with the clinical trial, we took the opportunity of Ken being home to whisk the kids away to Disney World, we road tripped to see friends in other areas, and Ken fixed up our back yard to be a relaxing oasis.  You'd think things would be winding down, but really, they're staying just as busy, which to me, is a Godsend.  Idle hands and all...

Now?  Now we're gearing up for summer!  My sweet baby girl is graduating Pre-K in a couple of weeks (which, being all hormonal, means I tear up a lot...I mean it, A LOT), she's going to camp for the first time the following week, and in a short three months will start Kindergarten.  When I say I'm going to be a mess the day the bus rides away with her in it, I mean it ain't gonna be pretty.  With a newborn in a carrier,  I fully plan to throw the boys ( BOY(S) !!!!!!! I can't even...) in the car and stalk my child to school.  Go ahead and laugh, people, someday, it'll be YOU!

I hope everyone out there is doing well! I will give an update with anything Ken related as it comes.  For now things have been stable (which even saying out loud gives me the shakes), but we'll give updates as they come.  For now, we've signed up to walk in the NYC Brain Tumor Walk at the end of June.  I'll give more info on that as I get back into the groove this week ;)  Thanks to ALL for the positive vibes we've gotten over the last few months, we are so lucky to know so many great people! XOXO!

IDH what?? IDK!

Alright friends, here's the lowdown...back in October, we found out that Kenny's glioma was once again growing.  With the hope that it was growing more slowly, they moved his scans up from every six months to every three. Unfortunately, at the scan in January, they discovered that the growth is happening quickly enough to see after only 3 months.  BOO!!!

They let us know that his options, for now, are radiation therapy, or clinical trial drugs.  Both sounded pretty scary.  However, after lots of research, and information thrown our way, the clinical trial sounded pretty promising. At the very least, attempting it would save him radiation for the time being.  The reason his neuro oncologist would really like to push off radiation is because it's a one shot deal...and even then, he said, the results were unpredictable (as in, it may only stop growth for a matter of months or a few years).  So here we found ourselves, 2 years after we thought we'd be done talking about it (albeit foolishly), and making more big decisions.

So this past Friday, after multiple trips to Sloan, a few scans and lots of talking about it, Kenny signed on the dotted line.  He is now on the fast track to beginning the clinical trial...fast as in he begins on TUESDAY.  Yes...as in two days from now.  Friday became a whirlwind of meeting doctors, researchers, trial RN's, Oncology pharmacists, and a ton of pre-trial testing (blood, 2 ekg's, echo cardio gram, the works...). By the time we got home Friday night, we were wiped, yesterday we were slightly more awake, and today we're feeling human and ready to prepare.  It's going to be an intense 3 month regimen of appointments at Sloan to monitor his body's response, and constant testing to make sure his body is handling it all well.  And if any of you know Ken, you know how much he LOVES needles (HA!).  It will be a lot of work for Ken, our little family, and the amazing family we have surrounding us that are helping us in every way possible (from kid sitting to massive amounts of moral support). But in the end we're hoping for a big payoff.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

Now for the science-y part of the tale.  The hope of this medication is that it stops tumor growth (and maybe even shrink it a little).  How??  Well, 70% of Gliomas have recently (recently as in the last 5-7 years) been found to contain a genetic mutation called IDH1.  Not only  is it in Gliomas, but in a lot of cancers...liver cancer, sarcoma, and a close relative of IDH1 (named IDH2) exists in leukemia.  Now, to anyone with a very non science background (myself HUGELY included in this), this is all very confusing, but I'll try my best to keep it in"non science genius" words.

This mutation is a very curious thing.  I thought about explaining how the WHOLE thing works, but it would extend beyond my scientific reach to explain it correctly.  But the bottom line is that this mutation preys on cells, in essence, that are suffering an identity crisis.  These are "primitive" cells that never quite develop, and the mutation helps it develop into cancer/tumors (this is simplifying the concept in a big way, but it's the gist).

Now, the medicine they're testing is promising in some very key ways.  Unlike typical chemotherapy, this drug is considered a biologic.  As in, it's purpose and intention is not to kill a single cell, but to heal the cells (or in this instance, force them to mature into healthy cells).  That's right...the premise and hope for this medication is to treat cancer without killing it.  Pretty crazy, right???  Not only that, but it's considered a targeted therapy.  Whereas typical chemo would be administered and effect the body systemically (as a whole), this targets only the mutation.  We have high hopes for this medication to work, but trying to keep level heads since it's still a very new concept.  However, in leukemia patients last year, the clinical trial was found to put almost 50% of patients tested in full remission, without damaging their bone marrow.

I have plenty more I could explain, but Kenny has informed me that what I've said already has probably bored people to tears, so I'll keep the science stuff to a minimum for the time being.   However, if you're at all interested, please feel free to read some of the below articles on the topic (he is participating in the trial by Agios).

http://investor.agios.com/phoenix.zhtml?c=251862&p=irol-newsArticle&ID=1829945

http://www.agios.com/pipeline-idh.php

As for every day life, we just keep on, keeping on.  If anything the last couple of years, we've learned to live life in between appointments. What else can we do?  I'll check in with, well, lots of stuff coming up.  It's not exactly how I wanted to get back into writing, but as those brilliant Rolling Stones say, "You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you find you get what you need." We need some good vibes friends, so send 'em if you got 'em!

A reintroduction!

It's been almost 4 months (!!!!) since I've had a chance to write, and over two years since I've gotten a chance to write about things I used to like to write about (you know, life BTM- before brain tumor).  I've missed writing about fluff...silly parenting anecdotes, personal challenges, and "normal" daily life things.  The last two years have been a trip, to say the least.  It's been a "process."  It's kind of felt like a lot of shoes dropping...every time we'd get back to standing, something would make our knees buckle or fall over altogether.  In the mean time, I took a much necessary hiatus from writing.  While writing is usually the thing that helps me most, rehashing the negative felt counterproductive.  Instead of writing about the past, I needed to learn to live again in the present.  I had to...for myself...for my kids...for any one of us to have happiness, I had to stop looking over my shoulder.  It hasn't been an easy process-little set backs can send me spiraling, but for the most part, we're doing pretty great.  And last week, out of nowhere, the urge to write resurfaced...except I didn't want to rehash any of the crappy stuff.  I wanted to write about life again...parenting struggles, recipes, home decor, weight problems, clothes...you name it!  I can't say I'll never write about the serious again...after all, I can't control life...but I think for a while,  I'll stick to the daily living part ;)

The blog page will be under construction for a little while...I haven't updated my banner since before Ben was born, and since he started preschool last week, I think it needs a new look! See ya soon!!

Weird Dreams and Silver Linings

So I had this dream last night...my in-laws, Kenny and I took the kids to Disney World for a long weekend.  The kids stayed with Kenny's parent's in their room, and he and I got up before the sun to go to the park early.  We rode the monorail, and I remember looking at the empty pools, lake sides, and benches around the seemingly deserted resorts.  When we arrived at the park, it was apparent it was going to start raining soon.  I remember thinking we should have brought ponchos, because we were only getting to be there for a couple of days, so rain wasn't going to keep us from the magic of Disney World.  Then, the sunrise got dark.  The wind picked up.  I overheard a park worker saying that since the sky was so dark they were going to have fireworks.  Making lemonade out of lemons, I suppose.  The fireworks began and I started taking pictures, thinking I would show the kids when they got to the park.  Just then my in-laws arrived.  The kids were still asleep with Aunt Alyssa, and I thought, oh good, they're getting some extra sleep so they can have energy to last the day at the park! It was around this time that I woke up.

Anyone who knows me, personally, knows we've had a crazy year so far.  Almost two years after being diagnosed, it finally sank in that Kenny's brain tumor isn't something that's going to go away.  Being so focused on surgery, recovery, and the aftermath, we never let ourselves get too far ahead.  This last MRI, while still terrific, gave us a heavy dose of reality.  The radiologist thought she might have seen ("thought" and "might" being the operative words), some subtle growth (the neurologist, however, says he compared MRI's as far back as December of 2012, and he sees no change...I believe the word he used of the radiologist's report was "dubious").  He said to us, as nonchalantly as though he were telling us it might rain today, that it's always a possibility, with there still being 10% of the tumor being left in, that it will continue to grow.  It's not cancerous, and would need to grow a lot more for it to cause any more problems.  That's why we do the MRI's. In his words "We might have to deal with again sometime in the future, but that time is not now."  Those are all things they've told us all along...just things we never let ourselves think about.  A few hours, a serious conversation, and a couple of drinks later,  Kenny and I digested this information and realized we still got it good.  He's still healthy.  It's still not really growing.  And this thing isn't going to be the thing that takes him when he's 95 and sipping ensure out of a whisky tumbler.

We had a lot of hopes pinned onto 2014.  The smallest (and biggest) of all, would be for it to be a quiet one.  Well we know how these things go...we don't get a choice if/when things happen.  It's been a doozy so far.  Aside from the above, it's been a whirlwind.  It's no shock that, after years of resisting doing so, I finally caved and started taking anxiety meds.  Best.Decision.Ever.  While it would have been lovely to "power through" (yet again), it was seriously shaking my ability to function properly.  Hand wringing, pacing, obsessively checking myself for lumps, bumps, and skin lesions, I knew it was time.  I still have moments...our plate is a little full at the moment, but overall, I'm able to think much more clearly.  I'm able to feel confident that the people we love are in good hands, and will be okay.  I'm able to get up each day and keep my kids' lives intact.  I can't say it will always be that way, but every day that I can do that feels like a big check mark in the "win" column for me.

Which brings me back to my dream.  One of the side effects of the medicine is "weird" dreams.  What I'm finding, however, is that my dreams are much more indicative of how I'm feeling.  A few nights ago, I dreamt I had a "knock down, drag out" fight with an old friend who disappeared after my kids were born.  Never even reached out when she knew everything was going on with Kenny, or when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer.  I've been mad about it for years.  While the fight will never happen in real life, I did get some bizarre closure by having it out in my REM cycle.  And last night...I think that my dreams were saying that even my subconscious can see a silver lining.  That my kids are young enough to not totally understand what's going on, that Kenny and I are in this together, and that sometimes life gets dark and cloudy, but you can still see some beautiful fireworks.

Random Bummer of the Day

I know I've mentioned once or twice (or a MILLION times) that my favorite movie ever is Just One of the Guys.  I love, and I mean LOVE LOVE LOVE that movie.  I've always loved the fashion in the movie, even when it wasn't cool (so say, 1990 until last year).  It dawned on me today that the clothes in the movie could certainly pass for cool outfits today (side note: am I totally dating myself by saying the words "cool outfit?").  There is this one scene where the main character (Terry) wears this amazing white leather outfit...I was nuts about from the first time I saw it.  It was so girly, and when I was little, had this "wow" factor I couldn't explain.  Of course, by the time I was actually old enough to wear such an outfit, I would have been laughed out of my baggy Jenko jean, Simple/Van sneaker wearing high school.  Not to mention I was super overweight so I would probably have looked like a stuffed sausage, but that's neither here nor there.  And now...now that its 2014 and pretty much ANYthing goes fashion wise...I'm too old and too flabby (post two pregnancies) to pull off this adorable getup.  There you have it- my random bummer of the day.  ::Sigh::

Hello, 2014!

New Year's Eve was no different than any other night in our house.  We didn't put on hats or blow horns.  We didn't stay up late or watch the ball drop.  But whether or not we acknowledged it, while we were off in dream land, 11:59 pm became 12:00 am, and 2013 handed her torch to a newborn 2014.  We might sound like New Years scrooges to some people.  I mean, isn't it always fun to stay up late, sip champagne (or apple cider) and dress up?  Well, yeah, it is; and many other years I've done just that, but this year just felt different.

The end of 2012 was a cathartic and symbolic experience.  Kenny was a couple of months post op from his neurosurgery, we'd just moved home from his parent's house a few weeks before, and exhausted from the year we'd had, we still had no clue what the year to come had in store.  Those first months of 2013 were hard.  Really hard.  They are a blur of worry to me.  By Spring we were coming out of the fog and packing our bags for Disney World.  When I say that week was just what the doctor ordered, it's an understatement (in fact, Kenny's neurologist at Sloan told him to go ahead and get scared and sick on throw up rides!).  As hokey as it sounds, that place really is magical.  One week recharged us.  It reminded us how to laugh, how to enjoy watching our kids play, and that life needed begin moving forward again.  Not long after we got home, we made the HUGE (if not insanely impulsive) decision to put our house on the market.  

Two and a half months of scrubbing, vacuuming, and running around like a loon, and the house we'd spent 6 years calling home officially belonged to someone else.  We'd spent most of that time looking at homes up in Cranford- about 20 minutes away.  We scoured high and low, and found nothing that felt like home to us.  Giving our area one more chance, we found our house.  We visited it two days in a row, and bid on day 3.  While it's only been 3 months, it feels like a lifetime ago.  Our new house still has a lot of work to be done, but it feels like it's ours even without it.  It was vacant for a year before we bought it (it was damaged during Sandy, and was fixed by a "flipper"), and sometimes I like to think it was just waiting for us to stroll through it's doors.  The neighborhood is better than we could have imagined.  Little things we didn't appreciate when we bought the house- like that it's a decent sized development, but there's only one street that enters/exits (and we are all the way in the very quiet back end).  We had no way of knowing that we'd be literally surrounded by homes filled with kids the same ages as our kids, or that there is an HOA that hosts all sorts of family parties throughout the year.

 I'll be honest- I've had a lot of "I miss our old house" moments.  We'd spent so much time, money and effort into updating that house and making it our own.  I still miss the open kitchen, the fireplace, and little nuances that made it home- like the water stain on the kitchen island.  I spent hours of my life trying to scrub out that damn circle, and when I finally accepted defeat, it became one of those little things that made our house our home.  I realize it's going to take time for things like that to happen in a new space...places don't feel like home overnight, or sometimes even in a few months.  But on a spring like winter day a few weeks ago, when my kids got to ride bikes around the neighborhood and got to play with the neighbors on their "playground" in the back yard, all without having to set foot in the car, I knew we'd made the right decision.  With every ding in the wall my kids make with their scooter, or with every new memory we make, the house will feel like home.  So on New Year's eve, after having "a year"- it seemed only fitting that we got one of the best nights of rest we'd probably had in all of 2013.  Our kids were both asleep by 7:30.  I'm pretty sure we were both out by 9:30, and I woke up at 11:53.  I thought about turning on the TV to watch the world ring in 2014- but knowing my kids were snuggled up tight and the husband was resting well next to me was all the celebration I needed.  So instead I rolled over and woke up in a new year.

 I have no clue what the year will bring, but unlike previous years, I'm making no attempts at guessing.  My only goals for the year are balance and acceptance.  Acceptance of who I am, what my limits are, and what my relationships are.  I'm never going to change anyone else, I can only change myself or who I surround myself with.  To accept that, some days, I'm not going to be a perfect mom, or even a great one; but that some days I'm going to be tired, and Tangled will be on "replay," and some days I will throw a cheeseburger at them instead of making them an assortment of lean meat and vegetables.  To accept that some people are just not going to like me, but that is no reason to not be who I am- pretending otherwise hasn't made them like me any more or less.   I want my life to feel balanced.  I have a tendency to throw myself full throttle into one direction; but this year I'd love to make sure I make time for everything...a little bit of work, a little bit of play, some time for the things I enjoy (like writing and exercising), to see friends that I miss terribly, and for the hubs and I to catch up.  Not very exciting as far as resolutions go, but if you ask me, I've had plenty of excitement to go around.  I'm ready for some zen.  Happy New Year!  I hope everyone achieves whatever their hearts desire in 2014.

Day 365

A day that used to feel so far off has arrived.  Day 365.  The Earth has orbited the sun one more time, and while a lot has changed, a lot has stayed the same.

Newborn photo session,  2 hours before the seizure on 8/2

A year ago yesterday, I woke up and had a blissful morning.  I still look back at those first 8.5 days of Ben's life as the most blissful week I'd ever experienced.  He was a terrific little monkey...eating and sleeping- no muss, no fuss.  Cam was starting to warm up to her little brother, and basked in her new found title of "big sister."  Of course, I don't need to rehash what happened later that day. There were so many unknowns that first night, so many terrifying "what ifs."  Looking back on that day, and the subsequent months, it feels like I'm outside looking in- kind of like watching a Lifetime movie.  Very surreal to say the least.

August 2/3- middle of the night- took this to show Kenny at the hospital

A year ago today, I woke up in the same house, but a different life. For the short term, that meant living with Kenny's family to help with the kids (10 days postpartum in this situation was just an added stressor), and learning a new vocabulary.  In the long term, it meant learning to accept the fact that things weren't going to go back to the way they were. At first, I felt so desperate to go back in time; feeling that weighed down for the rest of my life felt like a prison sentence.  For months post op, I would ask Kenny constantly if he felt okay, if he got enough sleep, if he remembered to take his medicine, etc.  But somehow, over time, I grew more comfortable.  I'm not sure if that is the right word, but these days the only thing I ask is if he's remembered his medicine in situations where he might forget (like if he goes out after work).

August 3, reunited with the babies 

This morning I woke up in the same house I did a year ago.  Ben isn't a little newbie anymore.  He's a walking, talking little boy.  He screams when I change his diaper (because it requires being still for 35 seconds), he plays peek-a-boo with himself and anyone else who'll join in, he says "uh oh" when he purposely drops his food on the floor for the dog, he says "bye bye" and blows kisses when you leave, and smiles with pride whenever he accomplishes something (even if its something you don't want, like climbing 2-3 stairs before you can get to him).  I spend a lot of my day saying "no no!" and redirecting him...over and over and over again.  Just like any of my other mom friends would be doing.  Like the first 3 months of his life weren't a total blur of everything that starts with the word "neuro."  In some respects, I feel great that things are mostly so normal.  In others, I feel a lot of guilt that Ben's first year was spent trying to get there.  It took me a long time to get back on track after we moved home.  In hindsight, I wasn't ready to be on my own just yet; but feeling clouded by everything that had happened, I think I just didn't have the tools to communicate that.  In the end, though- or in the "year after"- we count ourselves lucky.  It could have been worse. A lot worse.

Night before surgery, post pre-op MRI

As for Kenny, he's doing GREAT.  It's been 10 months to the day since surgery, and you'd never know it other than the scar that remains.  His last two MRI's came back clean (other than the little bit of tumor they had to leave in), and since it's now been a year since his first and only grand mal seizure (knock wood!), he can resume driving- a freedom he's missed very much.  We have put our house on the market; AND are in attorney review on the home we hope to raise our kids in.  A year ago I would have told you we were contemplating a ranch- since stairs + seizures usually don't go hand in hand.  But with a year free, we kind of went full throttle in the opposite direction- the house we are buying not only has stairs...it's a split level...with 5 levels.  As my therapist says, "Feel the fear, and do it anyway."  It's not easy for me to do that, but when I repeat that to myself and take a deep breath, I can usually switch gears from fearful to hopeful.

It's been a crazy journey, this year.  I have to say, one of the weirdest things about it, is that when I look at my kids, I realize that they have no clue what went on.  I have the distinct memories of running to the phone to call 911, in what felt like slow motion.  I remember the look on Kenny's face when he came out of the seizure.  The look on his parents' faces when the doctor first uttered the word "tumor."  The beaming smile on the neurosurgeon's face when she emerged from surgery. That horrible feeling in the pit of our stomachs when we realized he couldn't speak for days after the surgery. And the pride on Kenny's face when he was finally able to answer all of the one word questions they asked him for his neuro exams at Sloan.  I'll never forget any of it.  But my kids...they'll never really know.  The irony of it all being that they were our motivation.  When Kenny was in the hospital we constantly showed him pictures and videos of them.  Ben, then only 2 months, started smiling like crazy all of a sudden; like a little ray of sunshine.  Cam soaked in the city life and loved every second. Her infectious giggle keeping us all afloat.

Cam's Thanksgiving celebration at school, 7-8 weeks post op

 Nowadays, my day looks like anyone else's.  Kenny works from home a few days a week, but I generally wrangle the kids Monday through Friday.  He works. I mother.  I feed my kids. I dress my kids. I wrestle with the tantrums. I chase the walker who thinks the steps are his next conquest in life.  I take my daughter to swim lessons, I rock my son to sleep.  I clean my house, I run my errands, I take my kids on play dates. Nothing about anything I do day to day seems out of the norm anymore.  At this time, fingers crossed God willing and knock on wood, you'd never know that a year ago was a horse of a different color.

Ken and I would both like to thank anyone and everyone who were there for us, reached out to us, said a prayer for us, or even just thought of us and wished us well every so often.  Having the support of so many made such an impact, I really can't even express it.  Thank you, thank you, thank you- from the bottom of our hearts, for lifting us up, and helping us get back to being that smiley little family you see below.

Ben's 1st birthday, 7/24/13

These hips don't lie...

When I was in middle school, I started to notice that my previously childlike frame was growing more...buxom.  I seemingly had boobs overnight (I was even accused of stuffing my bra...loudly...in the middle of the cafeteria...ugh), and then I noticed my jeans getting tighter even though my tummy wasn't getting any bigger.  Nope, my hips were starting to show my Italian heritage.  I remember lamenting about it in 8th grade in the locker room one day after gym class.  I looked around at all the other 8th graders who all still seemed to be so...narrow.  Me = hourglass.  Most other girls = rulers.  A classmate of mine told me I had a fabulous figure (if you know who you are, and you remember this conversation, my almost 32 year old self now appreciates the comment even if 12 year old me didn't).  I don't think I realized until that moment that I had a figure.  I was 12 or 13. I still had braces.  I still would rather do almost anything than make out with a boy. Don't get me wrong, I liked boys (a lot of boys- you might even say I was "boy crazy"), but I had zero interest in doing anything other than holding hands (I may or may not have gotten dumped a few times over my "prudish" ways- I gotta say, I regret nothing).  

Over the years, I've struggled with my weight.  I got depressed in high school and put on a lot of weight. I fell in love my senior year (with my now husband) and lost a ton.  I gained back some in college when we spent 5 nights a week drinking and ordering fried chicken and pizza.  I've fluctuated all over the place through the years.  One thing has always remained, whether I was a size 2 or a size 12- and that's those big hips.  When I was younger I had no appreciation for them.  I saw nothing sexy about them.  I banged (and still bang) them into corners almost constantly. For one thing, it's hard to dress them; especially nowadays when my upper body is SO teeny tiny (I'm now a pear shape, I suppose- with a super tiny upper body and those same big hips with a little bit of mommy belly thrown in).  I can never find pants that fit exactly right on those hips without a gap the size of Texas on the back side.  

Then yesterday, as I balanced a full laundry basket on one hip and my 20+ lb son on the other, I realized these hips are damn useful.  Not only am I able to balance lots of extra weight on them when I'm doing a million things around the house, having such big hips helped allow for really quick, uncomplicated childbirths.  My Cami girl was a 6.5 hour labor, 3 pushes; and, well, Benny flew into the world after a 2.5 hour labor and one push (I'm not even really sure you could say that I pushed...is it called pushing when they are pretty damn adamant about joining the world that fast??).  And the pants? Well, when I DO find pairs that fit correctly, those hips fill 'em out pretty nice.  I'm not sure if Cami girl will inherit these Italian hips of mine, but if she does, I hope she can come to appreciate them the way that I have as an adult.  And...to the girl who mentioned my figure in middle school- thanks again :)

I'm not so broken, after all.

So, there's this pile of pants that had been sitting in our bedroom closet since the beginning of July.  They were my "iron pile" of Kenny's work pants that I'd been meaning to get to- but at the end of my pregnancy, putting on flip flops felt like an Olympic event, so on my feet ironing for even 10 minutes wasn't happening.  I had planned to iron them many times...before Kenny went back to work from paternity leave (we all know what happened next), then maybe one of the days when I wasn't living here I thought I'd just do it, or maybe before he returned to work after the brain surgery...but I just didn't.  I couldn't.  That damn pile of pants was the weirdest of small hurdles for me.  They stared at me from my closet for months.  The last shred of things I was supposed to do before everything started.  One day, last week- on my second cup of coffee when I have my ultimate energy buzz- I finally did it.  I couldn't stand the thought of peering into that closet one more night before bed and seeing that pile of pants.  I dropped Cam off at school, grabbed the ironing board and the pile, and quickly zoomed through the 7 or so pairs.  As soon as I was done, I carried them right upstairs and placed them in the closet with the rest of his clothes, where they belonged.  I know it sounds stupid (and if not stupid, definitely odd) that it was so hard for me to finally iron those pants- and I honestly have no clue exactly why it was - but I was so excited it was done that I texted my best friend about it.  Yes...I texted her that I ironed pants.  That sounds boring even to me, but it felt great.

I thought about blogging about it immediately when it was done.  But not really knowing the relevance of the unironed pants, it pretty much seemed like I was going to blog about my wifely to do list.  Not exactly riveting- not to mention, I really had it in my head that I was done (at least for now) blogging about my tough times. I wanted to go back to fluff.  I wanted to write about getting in shape and my cute kids and leave the tough stuff at the back door.  Then yesterday, at the gym, I was in the middle of a serious workout, and a song came on my iPod that I've been avoiding for months.  I was obsessed with it at the end of my pregnancy, and it reminds me of this amazingly perfect day we had at the beach about 36 hours before Ben was born.  It was seriously a perfect day.  80 degrees at the beach, family (and extended family), happy toddler playing in the sand, long stroll along the water with the husband, little man wiggling in my tummy- movie quality beach day.  It was the perfect send off to our trio becoming a quad.  During the whole ordeal, I often thought of that day, and wished if I could be anywhere in my life, it'd be that day.  Hearing the start of that song in my iPod usually triggers a "stabbing in the heart" effect, which is usually what prompts me to quickly change the song...but yesterday, on the rowing machine (at full resistance, thank you very much), I didn't change it.  I thought of that day and it didn't hurt (as much).  And then I realized, I'm not as irretrievably broken as I thought.  

I'll back up.  I know I mentioned that I was having a hard time.  But seriously, I was having a hard time.  I felt sad (like cry in the car every time I'm alone sad), and anxious, and was only compounded by me feeling terrible that I couldn't feel happy that everything (at least mostly) turned out okay.  I felt like I was a broken person.  I tried to cut myself slack, it'd only been a few months and I was still adjusting to everything and processing everything that had happened (because when you're in it, you certainly can't process it), but it felt endless.  But then the pants...and then the song...and then I realized I haven't cried in almost two weeks.  I realized I was feeling better...still cautious...still nervous...but better.  I'm healing (YAY!).  It might be slower than I'd like, but considering that 6 weeks ago I felt like a broken person who might never feel totally happy again, the epiphany gave me boat loads of hope.  If I could give myself a big fat hug, I would. 

And back to that workout (it hurts so good, today!)...it's part of a personal challenge to get healthy and look/feel well by my birthday.  I didn't really publicize it- not because I don't intend to follow through, but for some reason it feels intensely personal this time.  I'm not doing it because I have a major milestone or because I have a dress I want to look good in (like last time), but because I just want to feel my best.  I'm on a mission to be the best me I can be.  One thing I realized through this process was that I sacrificed a lot of who I am over the years- for a lot of reasons, but mostly, because I felt ashamed.  I can't say why. I just did.  I didn't like myself, and I assumed no one else liked me either.  By my mid-twenties, I think I was a pretty well balanced version of myself...some of the quirk without all the drama (and more selective of my friends).  I wasn't "all the way" there though.  I still felt embarrassed about some parts of myself...like the fact that even though I was pretty good at my job and I did like it, most of my talents and passions were creative.  Growing up I'd wanted to act, but wanted so much to be "like everyone else" and lacking the confidence to just be myself, I never went for it.  It's true...you regret more what you didn't do than what you did.  I regret that I never even tried.  Now, at 31, that ship has sailed, but I'm done being embarrassed of who I am.  I figure to be the best role model for my kids, I need to be the best Megan first.  It's not going to be a "thing" that I write about every week, but I'm sure I'll mention it sometimes.  In the mean time, I hope to keep the healing coming.  Wish us luck! 

Wah wah wahhhh...battling the "winter blues"

Hello and happy weekend!  I'm trying my best to be in a good mood today.  I have to admit, I've been struggling with post-holiday winter blues; and my kids are both sick every other day and there are crazy people out there trying to kill everyone, blues (but seriously, the cold weather and lack of sun aren't helping).  I'm someone who would be a good candidate to move to a warmer climate (for serious), because I become terribly depressed in the winter here in blustery NJ.  It's true, I've had a lot go on since August of last year (and it hasn't slowed much, but morphed into an every day kind of panic instead of a "focused on one event" kind of panic), but this really does happen to me every year (small children and brain tumors aside).  Between the crazies and the widespread flu going on, it's truly a wonder I ever leave the house...it's so bad that when I drop Cam at school, I get a pit in my stomach that doesn't ease until I pick her up and see that she's safe.  Sad but true, this is the world I'm raising my babies in.

However, I have to say, I'm beyond sick of feeling like a Debbie Downer.  Usually, I let myself walk around with the proverbial "wah wah wahhhhh" bubble over my head until Spring, and then get to being my chipper self again; but this year, after everything, the last thing I want to feel is down (if I can help it).  It's hard enough, since I feel overwhelmed a lot of the time (it's getting better, but I'd still love to find some time in my schedule to do things like go to the gym or join a yoga class on a regular basis), but I'm determined.  Why now?  Well, there's the obvious (duh), and then there's that I've noticed my blah attitude rubbing off on my little girl.  My anxiety/ocd has her terrified of germs (both receiving them and giving them to her friends), and that's something I really didn't want to happen.  When I started therapy (when Cam was Ben's age, 6 months old), the hubby and I discussed how I needed to get better because I didn't want this kind of thing rubbing off on her when she was old enough to notice.  Well, that time has arrived.  And I've made my little girl a worry wart.  The problem being I don't know if she's innately anxious (like me), or if I made her that way, or if it's somewhere in between.  She's obsessed with an episode of Yo Gabba Gabba that talks about germs, and plays a scene over and over where little ugly germs sing about making kids sick.  I'm not really sure what to do with this, now- I've tried toning back my germ talk.  I've tried fibbing (although every other parenting story says not to fib to your kids), and telling her "other" reasons we shouldn't put our hands in our mouths all the time or shouldn't pick our noses and touch our friends...but I think the damage is done (at least for this winter).  I'm going to keep my fingers crossed that spring comes sooner than later and I can undo some it (and somehow divert her from that episode of YGG...).

As for my own self, that might be more of a battle.  I get irrationally angry at other people for not being more "responsible" (I put that in quotes since I know I might be bordering on unreasonable about it).  They send their kids to school sick (like fever and green snot and exhausted sick).  They don't use hygiene let alone teach their kids to wash their hands.  They go out in public (when they don't need to) when they have the flu.  I could go on (and on...and on...) but I won't.  There was a mom at one of Cam's dance classes who was letting her 10 month old chew on her older daughter's sneaker (her very, very dirty, been walking on the ground for like 5 months sneaker).  I know I can be extreme in the other direction but jeeze.  But I have to try to tone it back...if not for my own sanity, for the sanity of my kids.

In the mean time, making me less anxious and a bit happier is one of the steps to helping her feel less anxious and happier.  I am going to continue to try to find blocks of time to find things I enjoy (and that I found meditative, like working out), but for now, I'm going to have to settle for five minute strips to enjoy the little things.  A hot cup of coffee, my favorite song on the radio, getting to see my kids play together...all the wonderful little things that make the effort worth it.  Hopefully, some extra smiles and talking more about nail polish colors (I just painted her nails this morning- it should last a good 3 hours...) and less about the flu will have her singing about more about sunshine and wheels on the bus than tiny, ugly germs. Wish us luck!

I'm baaaaaack! New Year and a "motherlode" of goals!

It's been 3 (yes, THREE!) months since Kenny's successful awake craniotomy, but I have to say, it feels much longer.  We settled into family life much faster than I had anticipated, and while sometimes I worry that I've lulled myself into a false sense of security, it's a risk I'm willing to take for the time being.  What else can I do?  My constant worry about every.little.thing. isn't doing anyone any good anyhow.  So, instead, I've refocused my efforts into getting our act together in 2013 (which mostly revolves around my kids). 

So about two years ago, when I was gearing up to turn 30 (::sigh::, when I was a still spry 29 year old), I started this blog because I wanted to challenge myself to try new things.  Cam was a little more than a year old, and she, and life, were generally easy.  I tried new recipes, new drinks, went new places and did my best to adhere to "the list."  I didn't complete it, but I enjoyed the "challenge" and feeling of accomplishment of some personal goals.  At the time, Cam's needs were simple.  She needed love, and snuggles, and some attention.  Flash forward two years, and obviously things are different now- not only because life has become a bit more complicated, but because we have a second child, too.  I don't have time to make 25 ingredient meals or spend hours every day at the gym. I wish I remembered what it was like to go to the movies or even have time (at this point) to take an extra long shower by myself.  I guess my point is that two years ago, I had the luxury of my personal goals being, well, personal.  

Today?  My biggest goals are all mom related (or really, kid related).  Not only has Cam hit the terrible 3's with hurricane force, she's had a really tough 6 months, something we only realized recently.  In July, our little trio lived a happy-go-lucky, easy existence.  We had, earlier in the year, moved her from our room (she slept with us the bulk of her life) and I had weaned her from extended nursing (which I've talked about before).  It was tough (or at least it felt tough at the time), but she handled it with gusto.  By the second week of August she had a baby brother and slept on a pullout couch at Grandma and Grandpa's house.  Kenny and I were constantly disappearing for doctor  appointments, and then he was gone (from her world) for the better part of two weeks, where he came home with a big "boo boo" on his head.  Of course, when all was well, we moved back home, where she finally felt the effects of being a big sister (since there were no longer 5 adults around all the time).

I know things could have been worse (by far).  I know we are incredibly lucky and fortunate and every adjective possible that means "Thank the effing God(s?) above my husband is mostly tumor free and had a rock star recovery."  But my girl got lost in the shuffle of getting Ken to where he is now, and now it's her time to get back on track (well, everyone's, but at the moment, she needs the most attention).  We did a lot of overcompensating.  A lot of TV watching and fruit snacks were had to appease the daughter who we felt we neglected for 3 months, and we created a monster.  An angry, clingy, non sleeping monster.  I realized at the very tail end of the year that spoiling her was doing no good; not for us and most definitely not for her.  That's when we decided 2013 is the year we try our damnedest to get ourselves together. Our end goals are simple...health and happiness.  We always say that, don't we?  We wish ourselves and everyone a healthy and happy new year?  Well, we are putting our money where our mouths are.  

Sounds easy, right?  Yeah...ok.  That's why I'm throwing down the gauntlet (ie. challenging myself to these tasks on my blog so I am shamed into following through).  I'll break it down for you: I want my kids happy.  I want them healthy.  I want me healthy, happy and getting enough "me" time that I don't cringe when I hear Ben stirring or Cam calling for me when I'm two sips into my morning cup of coffee.  I want Kenny healthy, and into the best work/life balance possible.  I want time with friends, time with our kids, time alone and time to get back to life.  We need gym time, playground time, nap time, book time and snuggle time. Things aren't going to be what they used to be, but they can still be great.  Obviously this is going to take a lot of baby steps...

To start, we began using a sticker board of every day accomplishments we'd like Cam to achieve, like sleeping by herself, not having accidents in her underwear (she often will wait so long she goes a tiny drop and then tells us she has to go), cleaning up her toys, eating her fruits and vegetables, and not throwing tantrums.  The first week felt hopeless, but finally it sank in (and seems to be working at least for a few of the things).  We have cut out unnecessary sugar (she was none too happy about the lack of fruit snacks and Gerber snacks), amped up her fruit and veggie intake, reduced her TV time (like by A LOT), and are upping our efforts to get her outside to play more.  It's only been a few weeks, but we can see a huge difference in her attitude already.  Thank God...it was getting hairy there for a bit.  As for Ben, luckily his needs are still pretty minimal.  He's still sleeping in our room (the APA recommends babies sleep in the same room as their parents until 6 months of age, I know most people don't really go that long but he's not really interrupting anyone's sleep so we're fine with this), but I do plan to move him to his room in the coming months (something that didn't happen with Cam until she was almost 2.5).  

As for Ken and I- he's began what will likely be his work schedule for the foreseeable future (commuting 2 days a week and working from home 3).  He's still navigating how to be at his most effective for work while he's at home (I've mentioned before how he genuinely enjoys work and his job, so he really strives to do well- always looking for ways to improve himself); but he says he thinks he's getting there.  We've made our bedroom his office; inclusive of a desk facing the window and a new computer on it's way (something about needing a giant monitor so he can have multiple applications open at once...I'm usually doing something domestic like wrangling wiggly kids into their clothes when he's explaining such things).  I keep the kids mostly out of his way for the bulk of the day (with the exception of when I need to get dressed), and he enjoys that he gets enough rest and can work late without having to still commute 90+ minutes afterward.  The days he goes in are like a treat- since no cars are necessary to get around in NY he feels some independence and gets to be amongst co-worker (ahem, adults- I'd be lying if I said I wasn't moderately jealous on that point...).  We are trying to plan some nights out (and one away) so we can start getting time alone to talk about things other than who pooped, who ate, and who bathed (the kids, not us, get your heads out of the gutter).  

I, personally, am still pretty much at square 1.  Other than a new obsession with Gossip Girl, that Kenny and I watch on Netflix most nights after the kids have gone down, I don't have much (if any) time alone to do things like exercise; but I AM eating better (I actually have all 3 of us solid food eating Courtneys' on an immune boosting diet of lean meats and lots of fruits and veggies).  I'll get there, but it's all par for the course with everything.  I'm (obviously) trying to find some time to write, but with Kenny still using the family computer most days, until the new work computer arrives I'll settle for whenever I can get.  Since I'm fairly certain the gym and I will remain merely acquaintances for the coming few months (until cold and flu season is mostly over and I feel okay putting Ben in their daycare), I'm focusing my personal goals on getting our house/schedules organized and in-sync.  By the end of February, I'd like my house to be a well oiled machine.  Right now, disaster area is an understatement- but with a little elbow grease and a lot of purging, I think 2 months is a good end goal for getting it looking better and feeling easier to stay on top of.  (PS- have I mentioned how ecstatic I am to be talking about normal things???  I could squeal....seriously).  I hope to check in again soon! 

You know you love me. XOXO,

Gossip Girl. (Sorry, I couldn't help myself!)

7 weeks post op: a VERY happy Thanksgiving!

Well, it's been 7 weeks, and we are less most of a brain tumor, through a hurricane, 9 days without power and chugged on through heads colds for all four of us.  I know I'm long (looooooooong) overdue with this post, but the past 7 weeks have been a very strange time in our lives and I just wasn't ready to dive into this.

I'm ecstatic to report that Kenny's awake craniotomy was a success.  Dr. Tabar, whom initially felt she would only be able to remove about 50% of the tumor without affecting Kenny's ability to speak, was able to remove closer to 90+%. I thought about writing a detailed account of the day of the surgery, but when I started, I realized I was mostly writing about waiting...and watching...and waiting more...and watching more.  I'll save you the time and tell you what you already assume...it was a long and exhausting day.  We (Kenny's family and I) had a little entourage in the waiting area including Kenny's grandparents, his best friend, Danny, and my mom and brother. They called in the early afternoon to say they might be wrapping up soon, only to call 20 minutes later to say they were going back in; this made me happy since I knew it meant they were going to resect more of the egg sized ninja in Kenny's head. Finally, at almost 4 pm, we met with Dr. Tabar; the receptionist placed us in a small conference room where we waited about 10 minutes- those 10 minutes probably felt the longest of all the waiting we'd done all day.  We stared at the door, waiting for our first glimpse of the surgeon's face, hoping to read some kind of positivity.  We were lucky enough that she walked in beaming...she proceeded to tell us she was able to get much more than she'd anticipated, and that Kenny did great.  She heard all about our wedding while he was awake during surgery (which she said with a sheepish grin...I'd LOVE to know what he told her hahaha), and that the sample of the tumor they looked at was, indeed, low grade (we didn't get the full pathology back for 3 weeks, which also came back low grade thank God!).  It took all (and I mean ALL) of my will power not to jump up and hug her; after she stepped out, we hugged, we cried, we hugged some more, and cried some more.  It was everything we'd hoped for since finding out about the tumor.  We went to the sitting area to let my family, Kenny's grandparents and Danny know the good news...where we hugged some more, cried some more (you get the gist).

Here's where things get a little dodgy for me...while I was wholly prepared to face a long, tough day for the surgery, I was wholly unprepared for the days following, which were far longer for me than that first day.  I hadn't realized how hard it would be to see Kenny in such a vulnerable state.  While he was able to speak and move the day of the surgery, by the time we got there the morning after, his speech was mostly gone.  He could say "yeah" and give some one word answers, but it was a struggle for him.  By late afternoon the day after the surgery, he also lost all movement in his right arm and hand.  They had warned us that this was a possibility, but no one was really expecting it since he'd seemed so well the day of the surgery.  Those 6 days at Sloan post surgery felt like months.  By the time we went home (the following Tuesday), Kenny could speak (albeit slowly) in small phrases.  Two days later, he had a seizure at "home" (his parent's house), where he lost his speech again for an hour after, but the CT they did showed no brain bleed or other issues, so they sent us on our way.  While I'm sure I could go into massive amounts of detail right now, I just can't...I'm really not ready to share everything I was feeling and thinking.  You wouldn't think that something that will (hopefully) end up to something so positive in our lives in the long run would be so hard to talk about (especially for someone like me), but I wouldn't relive those few weeks for any amount of money.

Since then has been a completely bizarre journey of trying to re-learn how to live.  Every two weeks he seems light years ahead of where he'd been before.  We had planned to move home around Halloween, but Hurricane Sandy threw a bit of a wrench into those plans. When we finally got power back, we jumped at the chance to move back into our house.  We hadn't been on our own since the beginning of August; and the best I can describe it is the first night of college...you're terrified, you're ecstatic, you don't know what the hell to do with yourself.  It's been about a week and a half now, and it feels more "normal" every day.  We still have a long road ahead of figuring things out...he can't drive until next Fall, and our kids are too small to leave home with him, so time alone (for me) is going to be non-existent for a while.  My anxiety has been through the roof; I don't sleep very well (which you can probably tell if you see me, by the lovely bags under my eyes), always afraid that he's not getting enough sleep.  I ask him constantly if he remembered to take his medicine or how he's feeling, and I'm pretty sure I'm driving him up a wall.  I'm trying to tone it down, but I think it's just going to take time for me to feel comfortable again.  I'm also trying to cut myself some slack...it's only been 7 weeks since his surgery, and to say it's been an adrenaline fueled 4 months would be an understatement.

I've learned over the years that there are things in life I can control, and things I can't; this has been a huge struggle for me, but this year, it really "clicked."  I'm still very anxious, and that's something I'll probably contend with the rest of my life, but I really and truly "get it" now.  I've always been a reflective "I wish" kind of girl.  Even from a young age, I'd rake over events of my life and say I wish I could change them.  When I was 9, I had a cousin I adored very much pass away; I was devastated, and for at least two years I thought if I wished hard enough I could undo it- I even daydreamed about being able to invent a time machine so I could go back and save his life.  As an adult, my "I wish" turned into wishing I could have changed my father, wishing I could change my whole history.  I thought how different my life could have been if he'd been "normal." I spent so much time and energy wishing away bad things that had already happened.  When I had Cam, it escalated to having PP OCD, where I'd obsess over any which way something bad might happen to her.  It drove me mad for 6 months, until I sought help for it.  I learned some great coping mechanisms from that, which was helpful, but it didn't ever totally go away.  Then this...

Yeah, this sucked.  BUT (and if I could make that BUT even bigger, I would), I learned a lot of things during this gut wrenching process.  I'm sure anyone who was reading this before the tumor (B.T. if you will), I'm sure you know that I'm someone who was ever so grateful for my life.  I can't call this a life lesson in not taking the good things for granted, because I never did take them for granted.  However, I somehow thought that appreciating my fabulous life (well, fabulous according to my standards), meant I was protected from losing it.  Learning that wasn't the case was hard for me...I felt angry.  What about all those people out there with amazing lives that bitch and moan CONSTANTLY?  I can't tell you how many people on Facebook spend their days whining because their boyfriends are annoying them or because they don't have boyfriends or because they just don't feel like going to work or taking care of their kids.  It made me irate that so many people don't appreciate what they have, and I do, and this still happened.  I'm actually embarrassed to admit that; but sometimes, when shit hits the fan, not all of your reactions are going to be rational. Which brings me to the first lesson I did learn...it's okay to not be perfect, and to lose your shit sometimes, and to react however the hell you need to react.  Life isn't a contest of who can maintain their composure the longest...when you die, God isn't going to give me (or anyone) a medal for never breaking down.

For the last couple of weeks, people keep saying to me, "I bet you can't wait for this year to be over."  Truthfully, I couldn't really care less if the year is ending or not.  Yes, it's true that 2012 was a tough year, but it was also a great year (my little guy was born this year!!).  Instead of looking at it was the year Kenny "got" a brain tumor, it's really the year it was discovered, and the year he kicked that sucker out on the street (most if it, anyway).  This brings me back to that huge life lesson that has taken me 31 years to "get"- his having had a brain tumor is something I could never have controlled.  When I was in therapy with PP OCD, the therapist asked me if I really thought I had that kind of pull with God that he'd be mad and punish me for not washing baby bottles enough times...war and famine all over the world, but Megan didn't wash the baby bottles 3 times? Take the kid away.  When Kenny's brain tumor was discovered, I couldn't think of anything so big I'd done wrong to cause it.  That's when I realized, my pull was certainly not so big with God that he'd put a brain tumor in there.  I know it sounds irrational, if not arrogant, to have thought that way; but unfortunately, it's part of the disorder.  If I look back at 2012, I can't say "If I had done X, Y, Z differently, maybe Kenny wouldn't have had that brain tumor..."  But I CAN say we did everything we could to help him, and I CAN say that he did his best due diligence in finding a good neurosurgeon.  Lesson learned.

Which brings me to the last lesson, and the close of this awesomely long post.  Last weekend, Kenny and I celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary.  We've been through a lot together- not just since we were married, but since we got together when we were 17.  Sometimes its hard to reconcile how you can have some perfect, amazing years, and how some years you trudge through as best you can and just hope to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Last year, we spent our anniversary attending two back to back destination weddings, the high of an already amazing year.  This year, we spent a couple of hours trying to reconnect...four months of trying to be parents while living with his parents, planning and executing a neurosurgery doesn't leave much time for a marriage.  We've hit bumps in the road before...never this big, but as with all relationships, things ebb and flow.  We have years of extreme highs like last year, and years where we put our relationship aside to face bigger things, like this year.  It hit me recently how appropriate my blog title has become over the last four months.  You can't live a real, full life without the possibility of these bumps in the road.  If you want the great things, you gotta be willing to take your lumps along the way.  I wouldn't sacrifice the trials set in our path to live a lesser life, any day.  It's all apart of living...it's a living thing ;)

With thanksgiving being tomorrow, it's only fitting to once again thank anyone and everyone for your continued thoughts and prayers through this ordeal.  We are thankful for so, so much this year.  While I'm ALWAYS thankful for my two beautiful babies, I'm especially thankful Benjamin came and helped us find Kenny's brain tumor (being up every 2 hours is what likely set off the grand mal). I'll be forever thankful for Dr. Vivianne Tabar and the staff at Memorial Sloan Kettering who did amazing work and took fabulous care of our family. I'm thankful, more than I can say, that we had the BEST possible outcome...our prayers were truly answered. I'm thankful for the amazingly supportive cast of friends we have, who helped keep us sane, and thankful for all the little things in between....being back in our home, good coffee, our daughter's infectious giggle, our son's beaming smile, and every day our family gets to be together.  A very happy thanksgiving to one and all!

Home just in time to go back...

Mornin' all- I don't have a ton of time today, but I just wanted to write a quick update.

Remember how last week I mentioned that Kenny had been sick all week?  His fever had subsided, he was regaining his appetite, but that rash just wouldn't quit.  So last week we went to the GP two more times trying to find out what was happening.  Through a couple of urine/blood tests, we figured out that his creatinine levels were elevated (that's protein in the blood)- which indicated that his kidneys weren't functioning at their best (at this point they were around a "2"- the highest it should be is 1.3 I think).  Finally, Wednesday, he said he felt we should see a nephrologist to have his kidneys checked out -- at this point we'd seen doctors almost every day for a week and a half, and getting tired of adding doctors to the mix.  Kenny called his neurosurgeon's assistant and expressed his concerns, and as we still hadn't gotten to the bottom of the rash (and everything that happened the week before), she had us come into Sloan Thursday morning for tests.  We met a wonderful GP there who did the exam and scheduled ultrasounds for the kidneys and liver for Friday should we need them (just to make sure we were on the ball since he is scheduled for surgery Wednesday).  About an hour after we trekked home from the city they called and said he needed to get back to Sloan to be admitted, because his creatinine levels were now up to 2.9 (so his kidneys were clearly not doing great at that point).

From there was a total roller coaster...with IV hydration, his creatinine levels did start to drop over the first night- not to a totally normal level, but they were definitely coming down.  However, once his creatinine dropped, his potassium levels jumped.  I'm sure a lot of you don't know a lot about this kind of stuff (I sure didn't before now), but if your potassium levels climb too high, it interferes with the electrical rhythms of the heart.  3.5-5 is normal, 6 is pretty bad, 7 is severe.  At one point Kenny's potassium was at a 6.2.  So the doctors and nurses did everything they could to help lower that level (I'd go into detail but it'd take a while and I'd probably lose you somewhere in the explanation of how it works).  We had some hope on Friday night that the levels were totally normalizing, but early Saturday morning the potassium jumped back up.  They did another round of their treatment plan and later Saturday the number had gone back down to 4.7 (phew!).  However, at that point, Kenny's anxiety hit the roof, and they could no longer get an IV in or blood out (when you get anxious, your veins constrict).  It took 4 hours and the aid of some anti anxiety meds, but they were finally able to get the draw they needed to test his levels and get the IV in.  They must have been pretty nervous because a test that usually takes 90 minutes to get back was completed in 20 minutes...and thankfully, the numbers, even without IV fluid, were still down.  They ran one more test on Sunday morning to be sure his kidneys were doing their things minus IV intervention (they let him sleep without the IV in overnight), one more EKG to make sure his heart rhythms were normal, and we were on our way.  It was a crazy few days, lots of ups and downs and ins and outs, but as I like to say, we're generally pretty fortunate in our misfortune...

The care at Sloan was unlike anything I'd ever seen. His nurses were on top of his every move (and we even knew one of them- we hung out with her a bit down in Manasquan the summer we did the beach house- small world, and VERY comforting to see a friendly face!), and he saw an insane amount of doctors who's only goal was to make him well.  From my count (and I'm sure I didn't count them all...) he met with 5 regular doctors (interns/residents/attendings in all), 3 renal doctors, 2 dermatologists,  and his neurosurgeon came down with one of her colleagues (I kind of feel like I should be ending this with "and a partridge in a pear tree...").  They were all very accommodating, very friendly, and on top of their game so far as we could tell.

Kenny's former colleague happens to live two blocks from the hospital (it's seriously a 4 minute walk, which is about how long it takes me to get from my bedroom to my basement at home, it's that close), and offered his place up for us to stay.  My mom came up and kept Cam at our house, and my SIL and FIL brought Benny boy up to NY so I could go back and forth to feed him (and so we could take turns watching him).  Another coworker loaned us pack'n'play sheets for our stay, and countless friends and coworkers checked in with me, round-the-clock, to see how Kenny was doing.  I cannot tell you how much this helped us...I'll never ever forget the kindness and generosity of those around us during this time.

So we got home yesterday, late afternoon...just in time for us to eat dinner, collapse, and wake up with a to-do list a mile long...because hey...we go back to Sloan tomorrow for Kenny's pre-op MRI, and Wednesday is the big day.  As you can imagine, we're all a little crazed right now, between the 3 night hospital stay over the weekend and the bigger one starting in less than 48 hours.  I probably won't write before then, so in the mean time, wish us luck!  I'll be back in a few days to let you know how things go.  Thank you so much to all who have been thinking of us, praying for us, and checking in with us this whole time-- it's been a huge comfort to us to know so many people have our backs.  XOXO!

Surgery has been postponed

I'm tired. Like, up until 6 am drinking in Atlantic City and sleeping for 4 hours before driving home and taking care of two kids tired; minus all that pesky fun.  Kenny has been sick for over a week now, starting with a rash, peaking with fevers about 102.5 and chills, tapering back off to a rash.  Surgery has been postponed for another week, but if he can't get these thing under control, I guess it could be put off until he's clear of any infection.

Of course, this was just the icing on the cake of already feeling scared and nervous 24/7; on top of worrying about him being sick, I have to worry about the rest of us, especially Ben, getting sick.  I think we're all a bit worn out, but now that the fever has (God willing/knock wood) subsided, I'm really hoping things look up and surgery can go on as (now) scheduled on October 3.  I'm trying to stay positive, but it's been really difficult this last week.  While surgery has actually kind of been the last thing on our minds with him feeling so sick, seeing him so down in the dumps and barely able to get off the couch had us all in agony.  In previous weeks, while we were definitely scared and feeling the weight of everything going on, we kind of had a rhythm going.  Kenny would work from home, anyone who was around would help out, and while we had some difficult conversations, we had plenty light hearted banter and every day talk keeping us chipper.  This week was just all down...he went back to sleeping on the couch with someone staying by him, barely eating, and not doing...anything.  Even writing that has me feeling like crap.  Thankfully, the last day or two he's been able to get up and about a little bit with the fever gone, which has definitely helped morale.  

I've spent a lot of time being angry (this obviously isn't news).  I've missed my life so much it feels like it physically hurts.  I miss everything about my house and living in it; our morning routines, our dinner time catch up, even just catching up on the DVR before we doze off at night.  I miss my dog so incredibly much; her sweet doggy face, how she would lay on our feet at night, our evening walks together, and just having her around.  All the simple little things about our lives together.  I miss when my biggest worry was going to be how I was going to lose my baby weight or find time to write.  I've been angry about losing all of that, about losing our independence.  I know Kenny has felt the same, we've lamented about it, got mad about it, and cried about it.  Sometimes, it seems we've lost sight of what really matters...

So the last few days I've been trying to change my attitude.  I've been thanking God for every beautiful day.  I've been trying to focus on the fact that our lack of independence is (hopefully) a temporary thing; and even if it isn't, we're fortunate enough to have all of the love, support and help we have.  We've got two amazing babies, that (God willing and the Creek don't rise) are happy, healthy and loved so very much.  We have soooo many wonderful people pulling for us and offering anything and everything to help.  We've got good insurance, which affords us a wealth of opportunity to help Kenny get well; and, most importantly, as a friend of Kenny's said to him the other day, he's got this.  This whole process has been terrifying...and pardon my French when I tell you that finding out about this tumor was a total mindfuck.  There we were, just living out our lives, just had another baby barely home from the hospital; I mean, what sounds nicer than a happily married young(ish) couple expanding their family?  BAM! Brain tumor.  Except we know now it wasn't really that way, it'd really been there growing slowly for a very long time; but it kind of felt like an egg sized terrorist had just exploded an iud in my life.  Mother effer.  But one of the things I've always loved about Kenny is his confidence.  Sure, it's caused a few good arguments (no one is ALWAYS right, dude!), but I've always admired his intelligence, his ambition, and how sure of himself he is...so yeah...he's got this.  

I will continue to update when I get a chance!  As always, many thanks to all for the continued thoughts and prayers- keep 'em comin'!  XOXO

It's official, Kenny is having brain surgery...while AWAKE!

I've started this post a few times, but feel like I have so much I want to say, and my mental flurry combined with my lack of sleep last night has me a bit unfocused- apologies in advance if my thoughts come out in a semi-coherent jumble.

I'll start with this: surgery has been scheduled.  Kenny will be going under the knife on September 26 (as in less than two weeks) at Memorial Sloan Kettering.  Now I'll back track so you know how we got there...

Last I wrote, we were on our way into the city to receive the results of a couple of tests the surgeon wanted done.  She's a "planner", this surgeon, and while these tests are never entirely conclusive (nothing is more informative than actual surgery and pathology of the tumor); they better help her to give us information and ammo to make our decision, and  help her map out her game plan.  We breathed a sigh of relief to hear the PET still pointed to a low grade glioma, and the functional MRI helped her to better pinpoint what area of the brain his tumor is in.  We thought once we had these results and got to speak to this surgeon on more time, we'd have our clear cut decision; instead, we left feeling confused about which direction to head.

While the scans did, technically, give us "good news" in terms of the tumor's grade and size, she said she felt she was only going to be able to remove about 50% of the tumor without affecting his ability to speak.  This isn't the first time we've heard from one of these doctors that, because of the location, they may not be able to remove all of it.  Every.single.doctor we have seen has mentioned that he will likely have transient loss of movement on the right side of his body (or perhaps just a sort of weakness); however, none of them were worried about this because, apparently, the other side of the brain would likely "re-wire" itself to start handling it (a built in contingency plan, if you will).  I asked the doctor why it would not be the same for speech, and she explained that the speech function doesn't work the same as movement, and the other side couldn't "rewire" to regenerate his speech. Essentially, if his speech is lost, it could very well remain lost.  Being a 31 year old father of two young kids with a lifetime ahead of him (God willing and the Creek don't rise), losing his ability to speak wasn't a great option.  That's when she told us she'd like to do language mapping during the craniotomy.

Language mapping is when the patient is awake (yes, awake!!!); it's some one's job to converse with him the entire duration of the surgery, while the surgeon "probes" the areas of the tumor she suspects are on the area that controls his decision to speak. While probing, they can detect slight changes in his speech (probably nothing most of us would notice), and would be able  to avoid those areas when removing the tumor (preserving his speech).  While we knew both surgeons would want to do cortical mapping (using electrodes to test brain responses for motor function), this was the first someone had really pushed on the language mapping (although it wasn't the first time it had come up).

SO- after all this talk, weeks of interviews, and tests galore- it came down to this...go with the surgeon who wanted language mapping or the one who didn't.  When we couldn't seem to come to a consensus, I suggested to Kenny that maybe he should involve his oncologist; sometimes you need an outsider's perspective to help you decide- obviously his family and I are a bit "close to the project" to remain objective.  All it took was one phone call and a few sentences from the oncologist, and his mind was made up: he is going to Sloan, and he's going to be awake during his neurosurgery (GULP).

As for how I feel about Dr. Tabar?  My OCD has me terrified to say as much, but I like her...a lot. I very much respect and admire the local surgeon we met, and I have no reservations about him whatsoever- had Kenny opted to choose him I wouldn't have blinked an eyelash about it- he's brilliant; but I felt a connection to Dr. Tabar- you know when you just kind of feel it in your gut?  Of course, I'm terrified to be wrong, but confident decision making has never been my thing (I'm queen of the second guessers)- so I didn't push Kenny one iota- in the end he is the one who needs to be confident in his surgeon, because he's trusting them with his life.

While she and the local surgeon said a lot of the same things in terms of diagnosis and treatment, their approaches were quite different.  I couldn't really pinpoint what seemed SO different between the two, but soon realized that his involvement would be a different level just because of where they work and how they operate (figuratively, not literally, although even literally it's a little different).  His approach was a bit more sunshine and rainbows...surgery, minimal risk, hopefully get most of it, move on with life easy peasy; his involvement with Kenny really ends with surgery (minus two post op check ups).  He wouldn't be involved in any additional treatment or follow up scans, unless it required additional operations.  There's nothing wrong with that, and I'm pretty sure that is how most neurosurgeons work- they perform their surgeries and refer their patients out to other specialists as needed; he doesn't actually work at any specific hospital, but is a surgeon with rights to perform surgery at specific hospitals (I hope this is making sense).

The difference with Sloan (and Dr. Tabar), is that they work for Sloan- every nurse, surgeon and neurologist works there- they're part of one major team.  The communication between all we've met appear to be seamless; the oncologist, surgeon and nurse team that we're in contact are all totally aware and "in the know."  While I sometimes find it a little scary, Dr. Tabar's approach is a bit more pragmatic; she uses words no one wants to hear about their husband, like "life expectancy" and "remission."  She is looking at the bigger picture not necessarily because she cares more than the other surgeon does, but because of where she works- one of the world's most renowned cancer hospitals.  That's what so scary about those words...they sound, well, cancerous.  While they believe the tumor to be benign (and we're certainly hoping they're right), they are likely not going to be able to remove all of it, and even if they could, it could grow back (at a "higher grade"- ie, more dangerous); and as Dr. Tabar explained to us, removing "all of it" is misleading, in and of itself.  When a surgeon says they can remove all of a brain tumor, they mean the "body" of the tumor.   She likened the tumor to a spider, as a body with a bunch of long, stringy legs...she can remove the body of the spider, but the long, stringy legs will remain, leaving room for them to grow their own little tumors or cause little issues themselves.  So while this surgery is going to help, and is a step in the right direction, it's, by no means, the end of our journey.

So there it is...I hope I was able to explain it well enough.  After all the talk and decisions being made this week, we were a little bit spent; but Thursday we had some friendly faces visit which was a really nice distraction.  Even though a bit of a weight has been lifted since Kenny made his decision, with only a week and a half until surgery, we have some details to iron out and some things to do.  He has a couple of pre op testing appointments and a final consult, we have to find a hotel for the 5 nights we'll be in the city, and we have to sort out childcare while we are in NY (we are bringing the kids since where we live is too far for me to go back and forth for Benjamin, and it's just easier to have them with me- but since most of us will be at the hospital with Kenny during the day, we'll need some babysitters- any takers??? hehehe).  But for now, I think we're just going to try to enjoy the weekend before we finalize our plans next week.  I'll do my best to check in as things progress.

As always, thank you all SO SO SO incredibly much for your continued positive thoughts and prayers coming our way, we can't say enough how much we appreciate them!!  XOXO!

Killing some time on the train...

So, today is 9/11. It's been 11 years since the terrorist attacks, and I think we all remember where we were that day. I was in the computer lab at school (remember those? When everyone and their mother didn't own a lap top, iPhone and iPad?), IMing with a friend who told me to turn on the TV...fast. What I saw terrified me, and I remember frantically calling Kenny to make sure he'd heard from his Dad (who works in the city). The days following were filled with fear, sadness and anger...not much unlike how I have felt this past month.

Today, on the 11th anniversary of that awful day, we are on our way into the city (I'm writing this on the train) to get the results of the PET scan and functional MRI that Kenny had done last week.We are pretty nervous...even though the doctor just wanted them done to better plan for the surgery, it's easy to let your fears take hold- what if the original scans were done poorly and we find out its worse than they thought? What if it's more aggressive than they thought and it's grown a lot? While most are praying for peace for the families of victims of the terrorist attack, I can't help but be praying mostly for my own. I *think* God will cut me some slack on that one, considering the circumstances.

On a same, but unrelated note, yesterday was Cam's first day of preschool. The girl could not have been more excited- in fact all of us agree that we don't think any of us have ever SEEN anyone more excited to go to school. I was happy for her (and for the short break), but anytime she is away from me, I miss her. While she was there, I had to run to the post office ( to finally mail the thank you cards I had written over a week ago). As I was getting to her school, Hey Soul Sister came on the radio (our song- I even used to sing it to her when she was in my belly)...and if that weren't enough, at the moment I was passing the school, I caught a glimpse of my little girl and her new school friends walking to the playground. Of course I started bawling, not only because it made me happy, but because it made me feel like someone "up there" was watching, and trying to brighten my day. Some might think that's silly or overreaching, but it's just how I felt that moment.

On that happy note, I'm going to try to relax on the rest of our train ride. Wish us luck today! Xoxo

Day 35 (5 weeks exactly since the grand mal)

I keep getting emails from these travel companies that are all titled "Need a break?" "Want a vacation?" "Want to get away from it all?"  Why yes, yes I do.  Of course, we all know that's not in the cards at the moment...not only because of what's going on, but because I also have a 6 week old (typically, travel isn't generally recommended for such youngin's).  Last year I wrote about how sad I was that summer was ending, and I remember how irrationally bummed I was about it straight through winter.  Obviously, we have bigger fish to fry this year, but I'm still pretty irrationally bummed that summer is over; and even more so that we didn't really get to enjoy the end of it.  I know in the grand scheme, that's a preeeeetty dumb thing to be upset about (especially now), but I can't help it.  The worst part is, the last two weeks I prayed for it to be over...I think I had it in my head that summer over = problems over, which, (SURPRISE), isn't the case.

It's been a tough week so far.  Last week was Kenny's birthday, and we managed to get a few celebrations in with family and friends (and even a nice dinner out alone).  I think we were all finally starting to let our guards down a little- it'd been almost four weeks since his last focal seizure, and I think we were starting to peek our heads out of our respective mental cubby holes a bit.  But on Tuesday, while eating dinner, Kenny gave me "the signal"- he tapped me on the arm and shook his head up and down- he felt a focal seizure coming on.  DAMN IT!!  I was mad, I was sad, I was exhausted.  I spend a lot of most nights trying to make sure neither child wakes him up (since his doctors have all stressed, time and again, that he needs rest), and in between, I check on him; every little noise coming from the other room has me hopping up to make sure he's still sleeping peacefully.  I generally end up on the couch, since Ben gets up at some point a few times every night- his family always tell me to wake them if I need help; but seeing as they do so much to help all day, I prefer to handle nights on my own (although sometimes Kenny's mom nabs Ben from his swing if she's up before me, and then I get an extra hour or two).

At first, I just wanted to make sure he was feeling okay, and when he returned to the dinner table, I went to the other room to cry (I really hate people seeing me cry, and I especially didn't want to alarm Cam who already kept asking "What happened to Kenny?"- yes, on occasion she calls him Kenny instead of Daddy- a wee bit of comic relief for us).  I really just felt spent at that moment- tired of being scared all the time and just plain tired, I sobbed for a couple of minutes.  If ever I'd had doubt before about this surgery (which I have had, out of sheer fear), it became apparent to me at that moment that it had to happen.  I'm still really effing terrified of the surgery, but realizing we'd been holding our breath all this time (figuratively), made me realize that unless this happens, we'll all be just waiting for the other shoe to drop...another focal seizure, another grand mal seizure, more symptoms that they warned us about if he opted to not have surgery (impaired speech and loss of movement on his right side)... I already feel like I've aged 5 years in 5 weeks, and I'm sure it's not going to get easier any time soon, but in terms of quality of life in the long term, I guess this is what has to happen.  It's getting harder to hold it together all the time, but for now, we're managing to (for the most part).

While I know I've said it before, I don't think it really sank in until recently that things aren't going to be the same.  I mean I knew it, but I didn't KNOW it.  I'll explain...when we first went to all these doctors, they all said they felt he could make a full recovery.  His oncologist even said he felt he could return to life as though it never happened.  I had a clear vision in my head of life literally going back to normal...me at home with the kids, walking the dog, Kenny hopping the bus to the city and me having dinner ready when he got home-- our boring, normal life.  It didn't dawn on me until a few weeks later (after talking to many doctors), that their definition of "normal" and "as though it never happened"are vastly different than mine.  I think because they see people with such dire prognoses all the time, when they say things like that, they mean he could and likely will have a normal life expectancy.  However, it's really not going to be what it was.  Maybe 5 or 10 years down the line it could be, but not any time soon.  Legally, he won't be able to drive for a year from his last seizure.  Mentally, I don't think he'll be comfortable driving a lot longer, especially with our kids in tow.  While we all assumed he'd be on the seizure meds for a little while after surgery (and no one told us otherwise at first), we found out (after I asked specifically- the key to getting real answers I've learned), that he'll be on them at least 2-3 years to start, and that was a minimum.  He'll have to have lots of follow ups and MRI's and monitoring...and with the continued seizure risk (they said the scar left on the brain from removing the tumor can cause seizures), we realize our house, with 3 floors and lots of stairs, is likely no longer the best place for us.  So, while I knew on some level things would be different, it's looking more like things will be really different.  It's okay, because I know we'll adapt, and honestly I could give a shit less if we lived in a shack as long as the surgery goes well and he is here with me and our family; but it's still sad.  It's ironic, because for so long we talked about moving...we felt unattached to the house itself and I've talked numerous times about the circumstances of us purchasing it (we were supposed to flip it within 2 years, but we're onto 5 years now), and faced with leaving it now, I'm pretty broken up about it.  We decided 18 months ago we were going to make a "go" of making it a home- we've painted every wall, replaced every floor, gutted the kitchen and master bathroom, and turned two unoccupied spare bedrooms into our children's sanctuaries.  We put so much thought and energy into how we wanted each room to feel, and although we were far from finished, it began to be our home.  The only thing I'm glad about (in terms of leaving the house) is that because of that experience, I know we can make any house, apartment, condo (or shack) our home.

Today, he's up at Sloan Kettering having a PET scan and an fMRI.  We'd decided about a week ago that he would go up there with his Mom and I would stay here with the kids, since I'd been feeling so bad about leaving them; but this morning I knew we'd made a mistake in that decision; I knew when he was getting ready to go that I should be going with him.  I don't doubt his Mom's ability to ask questions or be supportive (she's his Mom, after all, if it weren't me there, I'm glad it's her), but I just know I should be there.  My anxiety is through the roof (and I know his is, too).  When we first decided this, I don't think either of us anticipated being so nervous about the tests- he was actually the person who told me maybe I should stay here, because he wouldn't be seeing the surgeon today, just having the tests.  But late last night that uneasy feeling set in (especially since he had the focal seizure earlier this week), and this morning I think it went viral for both of us.  I know he's in good hands with his Mom and the doctors up there, I just wish I was in the waiting room for him when he came out of the tests.  This is one of those really shitty moments where I feel like I'm failing because I can't split myself in two.  I can't be with him without leaving the kids, and I can't stay with the kids without him going without me.  It just sucks.  No better way to say it.

On the bright side of things, we have some normal life stuff going on this week, too.  Tonight, post- anxiety-inducing tests, we have back to school night at Cam's preschool, and tomorrow morning (prior to a final consult/interview with the local surgeon), we have a meet and greet for Cam to get to know her new classmates.  We've filled some of our time planning for her school year- I ran home and grabbed some of her school clothes and shoes, went shopping for some new ones, and Kenny and I went out the other day to get a new lunchbox to surprise her with from Pottery Barn (it's the little things that excite 2.5 year olds); and on Monday, my little nuggette starts her first full year of preschool.  I'm excited for her to have something normal and stable going on (and, I admit, a few hours a week where she's otherwise detained).  I think the schedule (and small break) will be really good for all of us, and she's really missed her teachers and friends all summer.

On that note, I'm going to try to spend the rest of the day enjoying my babies.  Interesting fun fact: it's the first time I'm actually alone with them both all day!  Thanks again to everyone for the continued thoughts, prayers and positive thoughts- keep them coming! We SO appreciate it!!!!!
XOXO