Monday, July 22

Dear Josephine, {3 years old}

You've been three now for almost 2 month, this letter is a little late coming. I know, by the time you're old enough to read this, it wont matter how much time has passed between your birthday and now, but what will matter the most, is that it has been written.

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If there is one thing I'm learning, it is that it doesn't matter when things get done, just that they do, because regret will only be found, in the un-did, when it comes to something like this.

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Things this year have been unstructured and despite you being so young, I'm continuously driven by your spirit, within it all.

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You're a combination of beautifully bossy and a charismatic spit fire. Daddy is quick to remind me how you get your stubbornness from me.. and you do… but I love it.

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Stubbornness isn't a flaw, it's a force…and between you and me, that's what makes your father so nervous, he already knows at three year's old, you hold the world in the palm of your hands…. and as your parents, its the most brilliant kind of scary.

As for me, there is an unexpected parenting pressure, having a girl.
Out of all the three, you challenge me the most, on levels I'm thankful for you provoking growth.
I sometimes worry if I'm leading you best, but at the same time know, I'm doing good, in raising you right.

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At three, you love your princesses and the color pink. Bossing your brothers and loving them more. You're independent and certain, reserved and kind. How you got to be so girly, so young, with your love of walking in heels, playing dress-up and applying make-up, I will never know and never take the time to further question.

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You make our family, better.
You make our family, whole.

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I love you,

Monday, July 8

Chemo Eve's Weak

The fact that my conscious efforts of quality controlling the chemicals, preservatives, and GMO's that I let my body process, soak in, or come in contact with, is now being countered by the direct injections of the mac-daddy of all chemically generated poisons, has not gone unnoticed in the humor department, Irony… it has not gone unnoticed, in.the.least.

Tomorrow, I go in for my second sitting of chemo treatments.

As soon as any hesitation start to creep up, when thinking about it, my natural glass half full reflex coaches me to think how great it will be to have another treatment under belt…. how one more down, means one less to do… charging into the fire, is waaaaaay more satisfying than fearing it's flames.

I've always prided myself on my ability to mind over matter things. I can grin and bare with the best of them and I'm stubborn enough to pressing forward the hardest, when I feel like giving up the most.

Weak isn't something I show easily and rarely admitted to being.

Chemo is pointing out my weaknesses, ten fold.

Bottom line.
I just don't want to do it again.

I've never in my life experienced a flight response to a situation before, but the idea of running like hell from tomorrow, seems like a pretty great idea at this moment in time.

I've been overwhelmed and continually humbled by the amount of support my family and I have received.

People are caring, people are loving, people are good.

This pothole of weakness isn't something I hope to stumble upon frequently, but know it will be unavoidable at times along this journey. And like tonight, it's within the words of encouragement, kindness, and support that I find myself jumping in, to catch me during this moment of vaulnrability, hopefully rally any strength, during the times I find my knees quivering amongst this burdened weight. 

I know, when the alarm sounds in the morning, like a corner bell, I'll emerge from the pocket, in a fighter's stance, but tonight, tomorrow can take its sweet ass time coming.


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