Let me explain....

Next week I go 'back to work' as I've been saying to my kids.

This statement is false. I've been working as a freelancer and adjunct professor for five years since my last full time job. And work, oh man have I ever worked. I went back to work a week after an emergency c-section, newborn in one hand and two needy siblings in the background begging for playmates, food and attention. I worked away more weeknights than when I was in university. I lost most Sunday-fundays to a desk in the corner, one floor from my kids and hubby's laughter.

The last five years were the hardest of my life.

Every hour that I worked,
Every moment of my professional life,
Chosen to avoid interference with my priority.

Motherhood.

For the last five years,
My every thought.
Every choice,
Every priority,
Was my children.

That's a little crazy to 'say' out loud.

I never imagined feeling so passionately about being a mom.
I didn't know children would take over my heart and soul and mind.
I had no idea my whole world would change the moment I became a mother.
That my family would supersede my career.
That I'd be willing to work less, and spend more time, with tiny humans.

Yet here we are.
And the last five years are coming to a close.

Like the end of a maternity leave, where mom talks about 'going back to work', I find myself having similar discussions with my kids about how life is about to change.

I will not pick them up from school at the end of the day.
I will not go on every class trip.
I will not be home with them, this summer.
This is the hard part.
I adore these pieces of my life.

But wait.
Let me explain....

In all honesty, I have come to notice, in the last year, that my children and I have developed some borderline unhealthy co-dependencies.

They cry when I leave for meditation, stating they miss me too much when I am gone.
They need me to 'help them' with small tasks, simply because they want me to be in the same room.
They nnnneeeeeeeedddddd me, all-the-time.

And truthfully, I need them too.
I feel lost when they are not around.
I love to be free of parenting duties, but spend all my time thinking about them when I'm not with them.

Kind of crazy, right?

We are super attached.
SUPER ATTACHED.
And now it's time for us to find some space.

Space for my children.
To explore their own abilities.
To gain new skills.
To mature and grow and learn, without me... sometimes...

Space for me.
To focus more time on my career.
On my health.
On my healing.

I do not anticipate it being easy.
But I know we are rooted in strong values.
Unconditional love.
Mutual respect.
Faith.
And family, always, at the heart of our being.

On Sunday we went and had some family photos taken. On the drive home my oldest asked if he could have copies of the mommy-kids and daddy-kids photos. When asked why, he expressed that he would like to display them in his room because they were special to him. His sister and little brother swiftly echoed his thought with a 'me, too' and in that moment I smiled knowing that everything was going to be just fine, with this little family of mine <3

Unpack the bag

I had a really interesting conversation with a friend today.

We were discussing how she and I have both suffered trauma, around fertility and motherhood. We have both endured deep heartache, but for different reasons. Our journeys have taken us along different paths, but we quickly found commonality in the weight of it all.

Trauma
Grief
Loss
Heartache.

They are pretty darn heavy.
Like a tote bag strapped awkwardly over our shoulder.
Hanging there, obvious and heavy.
Awkward.
Uncomfortable.

We both agreed that at one time, that bag of heartache ruled us.
We were defined by it.
Owned by the emotional baggage.

We chose to wear it.
Every.
Single.
Day.

We struggled unsuccessfully to adjust it.
We couldn't manage life with or find the energy to carry around that damn bag all the time.

It was exhausting.
We were owned by our heartache.
Our sorrow ran the day.
The past was in charge of our every moment.

Thankfully, somewhere along the way, we realized the bag had to be put down.

Opened up.
Unpacked.
Put away.

We realized that we couldn't go on forever.
Managing that bag full of hurt.
Pain and grief.
Lost hopes.
Shattered dreams.

THANK GOD we realized it needed to put it down.

Wrapped in courage, we unpacked the bag.
Scary as it was, as hard as it was.
As long as it took.

And in that bag we found memories worthy of shelf space.
Released the heavy feelings out the window.
Found tiny pieces of silver that made us smile.

And we agreed to never wear that bag again.
Because it did not serve us any longer.

We were not defined by that traumatic time.
That loss nor diagnosis.

We realized that living in the past, hurt us in the present.

Unpacking that heavy bag did not lessen the experience or dishonour the life we were grieving, but rather released us from it's weight on our shoulders and heart.

We became free to live again.
Soar again.
Feel lightness again.

We made space.
Took up distance.

-------------------

Most of us endure really difficult experiences.
Incomprehensible pain.
Immeasurable grief.

As much as we want to stop, control or remove it from our lives, it's just not possible.

At some point we have to notice the weight.
Make the conscious decision that it is too heavy.
And breathe in the courage to overcome that which is ruling our life.

So please, only carry your bag for a while.
Don't let your every today be weighted by the past.

Please, get help.
Let others assist as you carry that bag.
Take breaks now and again, and let that heartache sit in idle timeout, beside your feet.

When you are ready, unpack the bag.
Find homes for the memories.
Enjoy life once again, holding those little pieces of silver as a reminder of your strength and love.

xoxo

One year down!

Today marked a very special occasion...
the end of Brooklyn's first year of after-care protocol.

Today we learned that she is still cancer free.
NED.
No evidence of disease.

Her results were PERFECT.
100% perfect.

She has gained 15lbs since her cancerous tumour was removed and sprouted almost 8cm (3 inches) in 11 months. Even her feet have grown nearly two sizes. She looks incredible, healthy and well. She is smarter than ever, working on grade two spelling words and practicing for her dance recital in June.

Her anxiety is manageable.
She is happy more often than sad.
Long, gorgeous hair is growing like mad.

God is good.
My heart is so damn happy.

While waiting for her oncologist to call her in, I took this photo.

With those bright, beautiful eyes of hers, she asked if we could confide in each other. We had made 'wish chip' wishes at lunch time, and she wanted to know if we had the same wish.

I told her the truth.
I wished for a clean scan, cancer free, and no appointments until October.

She looked at me and smiled.
"Me too, Mama."
Then she went back to her toys.

Well, warrior princess, wish granted.
Fuck you, cancer. You cannot bully us for six whole months.

#TeamBrooklyn #WarriorPrincess