Welp, today marks two years since my stage three, triple negative, 32 week prego C diagnosis. It’s also been two years since we (Team Filloon) took as much control as possible and let go of the rest. Two. Years.
Sometimes it feels like yesterday. And then sometimes if feels like I’m telling someone else’s story. Right now, it feels like it was a different lifetime.
Over these two years, I have learned what’s important to me. What’s no so much. What kind of crap is worth putting up with. And what’s not. Who I want to surround myself with. And who’s energy I could do without- luckily, it hasn’t been many. And how important it is for humans to love and support other humans.
Over these last two years, I have become more confident with myself. Not just mentally but physically too. You might have just asked yourself “How?! She’s been surgur-ied (verb?🤷🏻♀️), her lady parts jacked, so on and blah blah” or whatevs. And I get it. But somehow I am. So that’s cool bonus.
I wish I had some profound words to explain my feelings on being here two years later. But I don’t. I only have a handful of simple ones: Just so damn grateful.
Recently I reached out to the inter webs, aka Facebook, looking for some audio book recommendations. I got a bunch of leads but one really hit home. ‘How to Get Run Over by a Truck’ by Katie McKenna.
Holy hell you guys, her book is a must read! I’m pretty sure that none of you have been run over by a truck. Thankfully. [And if you have, I am a super shitty friend for having not visited you in the hospital 😳] But neither was I and this book still had me laughing out loud, nodding in agreement, and feeling like someone just ‘totally gets it’. I mean, what ever the crap ‘it’ is.
When the book was over, I wanted to sit down with Katie with a glass of bubbles in hand and be like “Girl, yes. Just yes”. Her book has also helped me understand why sometimes people tell me that this blog has helped them. Different stories can produce similar emotions, thoughts, and actions. Our physical wounds, scars, and sources of trauma may be vastly different but the emotional trauma can be so very similar and relatable. So I guess sharing truly is caring 😘.
And along with sharing my story, I completed my health screening this week with Kaiser so that I can begin volunteering as a peer supporter. I’ll be contacted soon for the next steps, including a volunteer training. I’m really excited for this program and am full of hope that it will be a great source of support for others.
Back to this two year business. Roughly two years ago, I wrote a post about a total breakdown I had while walking by the park near our house. I was hysterical, sobbing, panicking. I had been watching parents grab their folding chairs out of their cars and head to the field to watch their kids play football. My heart began to ache because I wanted to be that parent. I wanted to be able to sit on a sideline and cheer for my babies. I remember pleading with the universe. Let me live and I would gladly drive a mini van and be Team Mom. I don’t care how much street cred I lose. Just let me live.
Well, last week, I was coaxed in to being the team parent for Harlon’s soccer team. I fought it at first, I don’t have a ton of free time, but then I had a flashback of that day. Remembering the bargaining I had been doing in my head…
So come September 8th, you can find me gladly pulling up to Har’s first game in the ‘mama’ van, whipping out our neon green Slime Time (😂) banner. I’ll grab my orange slices and Kudos bars (is that even still a thing?) and I’ll strut out to that field. Happy as fuck to be alive.