A great many of our friends and family have expressed worry over what to say to their little ones, as well as to Brooklyn and her siblings. I thought I would share what we've said to date, in case it helps anyone:
Brooklyn has a lump in her belly. The lump shouldn't be there, and even though we cannot see it, it is inside of her. The doctors are doing lots of tests and taking lots of pictures to try and figure out what kind of lump it is - the name of it - so that they can come up with a plan to remove it.
It may involve more medicine, it may involve more surgery, or a combination of those things. We don't know yet. We may even have to sleep at the hospital for awhile, as we did last week.
It's ok to be scared. It's ok to be angry. It's ok to want to scream and yell and cry and be quiet and not talk at all. All of those feeling are ok, but we've told all three of the kids they are absolutely NOT alone, that we all feel the same way and are all looking forward to Brookie being well again.
On Thursday, Nolan asked us how it got there.
Good question.
That one caught Jay and I both off guard, and so we answered like this:
Inside of our body, there are cells. Sometimes those cells can become confused and grow into things they are not supposed to grow into. Brooklyn's lump is a group of cells that grew in her belly, but they should not be there. We need to remove the lump in order to make Brooklyn better.
It's not Brooklyn's fault, or anyone's fault, that these cells grew in her belly. All we can do now is wait for the doctors to come up with a plan to make her all better.
As you can see, we haven't mentioned the big 'C' word yet, partially because it is not an official diagnosis, and partially because hypothetical statements will only cause anxiety and worry in our kids. We know this all too well, we've been living with it for two weeks now.
We will wait until all the facts are known before telling them any more.
A few well-meaning people have recently said to Brooklyn, "We are happy that you are all better." This is an incorrect statement, and we politely ask that you refrain from saying this to her.
She is taking a break from the hospital for a few days, until the doctors come up with a plan to help her. She is resting, healing and playing with her friends at school because those things feel good and are good for her to do. It is safe for her to play, and we are happy to see her go to school.
Finally, I've talked to her a lot about God and angels:
Angels can help you, when you are feeling sad or lonely or worried. Its important to ask your angels to help you. You can talk quietly to yourself, write them a letter or just say the words in your head. Mommy has been calling on all our family angels to surround us with love, white light and protection as we live each day.
God is also watching over you. We don't know why you have to go through this, but we know that God has made you a strong and beautiful girl capable of getting through whatever we have to do in order to be well again. We trust in God, even though this is the hardest thing we've ever had to do.
I hope this helps a few of you. Please encourage your kids to play with Brooklyn, love her up and tell her how much they missed seeing her. She's a beautiful five year old whose soul is fueled by spending time with her friends and family.
#TeamBrookie #WarriorPrincess
This blog was created in 2011 to capture my very personal journey of leaving full time work to become a work-at-home mother of three beautiful children. Naturally, this space has morphed into a place of personal reflection, celebration and sometimes even sadness. I’ve written about childhood cancer, food allergy and anaphylaxis, grief, marriage, friendship, parenting and everything in between, all with a growing sense of mindfulness and gratitude. Please, grab a cup of tea and stay awhile.
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Friday, January 29, 2016
Coping
Brooklyn has finally completed the last of the required tests.
Her only scheduled appointment next week is a surgical follow up from her biopsy.
Now we wait.
Wait for a diagnosis. A treatment plan. A timeline.
It's the scariest feeling ever, to know something so important rides entirely on others. Highly intelligent and well trained others, but still the lack of control takes my breath away more than once a day.
I feel sad.
Empty.
Anxious.
Shaky.
Weak.
I've really pulled into myself, the way a turtle crowds it's shell during times of danger.
I worry about my boys and the trauma this has caused each of them.
E has endured nightmares. He needs to know where I am going and when I'll be back. He asks lots of questions about where his siblings are, and he was so angry last week when we made it clear he wasn't allow to hug his sister because of her boo-boos. He cried the most gigantic, most heartbreaking tears last weekend as he spontaiously told me how hard it was to go from the babysitter's house to his grandparents' house and back. His entire routine was disrupted, despite our best efforts.
N is sullen, at times unable to decipher what he's feeling. He made a feeling picture with the Child Life Specialists yesterday, of our faces before B got sick and since B has been in the hospital.
This image brought me to tears. He is right and its hard to know he's hurting as much as we are, despite our attempts to be as warm and normal as possible. He is a feeler, a deeply emotional child, and he knows that this is serious.
When my mind wanders, I sometimes think about the worst case scenario.
Chemo. Hair loss. Extended hospital stays.
A daughter with self esteem issues... her first set of incisions really upset her.
And then sometimes I focus on the beautiful party we will have when this is all over with.
The music. The jumpy castle. The cold drinks and big hugs.
Tears of joy.
A chance to thank everyone for their support.
The entire next week is out of our hands, all there is left to do is pray that hope becomes reality.
I find myself too tired to pray these last few days, and so I am grateful for all of your spiritual dedication to my family.
xo
#TeamBrookie #WarriorPrincess
Her only scheduled appointment next week is a surgical follow up from her biopsy.
Now we wait.
Wait for a diagnosis. A treatment plan. A timeline.
It's the scariest feeling ever, to know something so important rides entirely on others. Highly intelligent and well trained others, but still the lack of control takes my breath away more than once a day.
I feel sad.
Empty.
Anxious.
Shaky.
Weak.
I've really pulled into myself, the way a turtle crowds it's shell during times of danger.
I worry about my boys and the trauma this has caused each of them.
E has endured nightmares. He needs to know where I am going and when I'll be back. He asks lots of questions about where his siblings are, and he was so angry last week when we made it clear he wasn't allow to hug his sister because of her boo-boos. He cried the most gigantic, most heartbreaking tears last weekend as he spontaiously told me how hard it was to go from the babysitter's house to his grandparents' house and back. His entire routine was disrupted, despite our best efforts.
N is sullen, at times unable to decipher what he's feeling. He made a feeling picture with the Child Life Specialists yesterday, of our faces before B got sick and since B has been in the hospital.
 |
| Left - before B became sick . Right - after B became sick |
When my mind wanders, I sometimes think about the worst case scenario.
Chemo. Hair loss. Extended hospital stays.
A daughter with self esteem issues... her first set of incisions really upset her.
And then sometimes I focus on the beautiful party we will have when this is all over with.
The music. The jumpy castle. The cold drinks and big hugs.
Tears of joy.
A chance to thank everyone for their support.
The entire next week is out of our hands, all there is left to do is pray that hope becomes reality.
I find myself too tired to pray these last few days, and so I am grateful for all of your spiritual dedication to my family.
xo
#TeamBrookie #WarriorPrincess
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
Any other day
It began like any other day.
My focus was on getting my kids dressed, packing lunches and loading them into the van in time to make the first bell. Nolan, age 7, and Brooklyn, age 5, love to play for a few minutes with their friends before classes officially begin.
Drop off. Check.
Coffee run. Check.
Morning visit with my wee man Ethan, age 2, to our local early years centre. Check.
Around 11 o'clock that morning E and I headed home. Thursday is our special day together, one I so cherish. I put his favourite show on TV and headed upstairs to make him some eggs for lunch.
Cue the phone.
I always check my call display before answering, and when I did, my heart dropped.
It was my kids' pediatrician's office calling.
In the three seconds or so that it took to pick up the receiver, my mind raced.
B had just gone the previous day for an ultrasound on her abdomen, specifically looking at her bladder. After recurrent UTIs, random unexplained constipation and complaints of it hurting to sit on the toilet, I asked her doctor to consider more testing.
I couldn't take her to that appointment as I was just beginning to teach my first week of the winter term, thank goodness my amazing parents jumped at the chance to spend time with B. The technician had told my mother it would be about 5 business days before results would be available to our doctor.
But the pediatrician's office was on the phone now, on this very normal, average day.
Asking me to come in regarding the results of the ultrasound.
I hung up the phone and my chest hurt.
Not 15 minutes later, the office was calling again.
This time, our pediatrician was on the other end.
"I've reviewed the results and referred you up to McMaster Children's Hospital. There is a mass in her abdomen which requires further investigation. I have spoken directly to the surgeon, he is aware of your case."
That day, two weeks ago, was just like any other day.
The same arguments.
The same requests for cooperation.
The same snacks in my kids' lunch bags.
Never, in my wildest dreams, would I have guessed our very busy pediatrician would call me at home. That McMaster would call the next day and tell us to come in three days later, promptly at 9am.
To be admitted.
To begin a very, very difficult two weeks.
CT scans.
IV drips.
Blood work.
Urine samples.
Biopsies.
Hearing and eye tests.
Echos.
Bone marrow biopsy.
Bone scan.
MIBG scan.
Days so long, tears flowing uncontrollably and questions nearly impossible to answer:
"Why do they keep touching me? They make me feel worser Mom! Make it stop!"
"How many more tests mommy, I hate tests!"
"Why can't I eat, mommy? They never let me eat here!"
"Mommy I am not sick. I am fine. Take me home?"
Seeing my little angel, my precious baby girl, in pain. Suffering at the hands of the people who were put in place to help her. Feeling entirely helpless, hopeless and trembling at the thought of one more wheelchair ride, one more gurney trip around the hospital.
Watching her little eyes close, body full of drugs, knocking her into a deep sleep over and over again for the sake of something that did not exist a few weeks ago.
Trusting strangers to care for my baby as they would their own, and begging them to do everything in their power to make her well again.
...
The day began like any other day.
Two weeks ago tomorrow.
Yet the following 14 days have been the furthest from that day.
And while these have been the single most difficult two weeks of my life as a mom, wife and woman, I can see with very clear eyes how lucky we are.
Yup.
Its only taken two weeks to complete all the tests necessary for a proper diagnosis.
The hospital is only one hour from our home.
We are surrounded by family, friends and even perfect strangers who continue to fuel us with kind words, meals, gifts and hugs.
Love is plentiful.
Hope is visible.
Faith, while being tested, is a strong and capable companion.
Please pray, for Brooklyn and all children who's lives have been anything but any other day.
#TeamBrookie #WarriorPrincess
My focus was on getting my kids dressed, packing lunches and loading them into the van in time to make the first bell. Nolan, age 7, and Brooklyn, age 5, love to play for a few minutes with their friends before classes officially begin.
Drop off. Check.
Coffee run. Check.
Morning visit with my wee man Ethan, age 2, to our local early years centre. Check.
Around 11 o'clock that morning E and I headed home. Thursday is our special day together, one I so cherish. I put his favourite show on TV and headed upstairs to make him some eggs for lunch.
Cue the phone.
I always check my call display before answering, and when I did, my heart dropped.
It was my kids' pediatrician's office calling.
In the three seconds or so that it took to pick up the receiver, my mind raced.
B had just gone the previous day for an ultrasound on her abdomen, specifically looking at her bladder. After recurrent UTIs, random unexplained constipation and complaints of it hurting to sit on the toilet, I asked her doctor to consider more testing.
I couldn't take her to that appointment as I was just beginning to teach my first week of the winter term, thank goodness my amazing parents jumped at the chance to spend time with B. The technician had told my mother it would be about 5 business days before results would be available to our doctor.
But the pediatrician's office was on the phone now, on this very normal, average day.
Asking me to come in regarding the results of the ultrasound.
I hung up the phone and my chest hurt.
Not 15 minutes later, the office was calling again.
This time, our pediatrician was on the other end.
"I've reviewed the results and referred you up to McMaster Children's Hospital. There is a mass in her abdomen which requires further investigation. I have spoken directly to the surgeon, he is aware of your case."
That day, two weeks ago, was just like any other day.
The same arguments.
The same requests for cooperation.
The same snacks in my kids' lunch bags.
Never, in my wildest dreams, would I have guessed our very busy pediatrician would call me at home. That McMaster would call the next day and tell us to come in three days later, promptly at 9am.
To be admitted.
To begin a very, very difficult two weeks.
CT scans.
IV drips.
Blood work.
Urine samples.
Biopsies.
Hearing and eye tests.
Echos.
Bone marrow biopsy.
Bone scan.
MIBG scan.
Days so long, tears flowing uncontrollably and questions nearly impossible to answer:
"Why do they keep touching me? They make me feel worser Mom! Make it stop!"
"How many more tests mommy, I hate tests!"
"Why can't I eat, mommy? They never let me eat here!"
"Mommy I am not sick. I am fine. Take me home?"
Seeing my little angel, my precious baby girl, in pain. Suffering at the hands of the people who were put in place to help her. Feeling entirely helpless, hopeless and trembling at the thought of one more wheelchair ride, one more gurney trip around the hospital.
Watching her little eyes close, body full of drugs, knocking her into a deep sleep over and over again for the sake of something that did not exist a few weeks ago.
Trusting strangers to care for my baby as they would their own, and begging them to do everything in their power to make her well again.
...
The day began like any other day.
Two weeks ago tomorrow.
Yet the following 14 days have been the furthest from that day.
And while these have been the single most difficult two weeks of my life as a mom, wife and woman, I can see with very clear eyes how lucky we are.
Yup.
Its only taken two weeks to complete all the tests necessary for a proper diagnosis.
The hospital is only one hour from our home.
We are surrounded by family, friends and even perfect strangers who continue to fuel us with kind words, meals, gifts and hugs.
Love is plentiful.
Hope is visible.
Faith, while being tested, is a strong and capable companion.
Please pray, for Brooklyn and all children who's lives have been anything but any other day.
#TeamBrookie #WarriorPrincess
Thursday, January 14, 2016
Mom friends, unite
Mom friends, I need to talk to you.
Thank you for being honest.
For posting photos of your worst parenting moments.
For crying out for help when you couldn't stand one more minute with your kids.
For laughing hysterically at my mishaps, and letting me do the same at yours.
Thank you for reserving judgement.
When I admit I've just pulled into the McDonalds drive thru with tears in my eyes.
When I couldn't go out for drinks because I didn't have $10 in my wallet to spend.
When I wore the same faded pair of yoga pants for the third day in a row.
Thank you for listening.
About my larger-than-life worries regarding fevers, ear infections and immunizations.
About my feelings of failure, disappointment and utter dismay at being a mom.
About the moments that made me cry deep, dark tears from my soul.
Thank you for being my cheerleader.
For sending virtual hugs that reassured me I was worth it.
For the messages of love when I was sick, run down and crawling out of bed.
For the acts of kindness that filled my heart with gratitude and love for our friendship.
The truth is, we're all in this together.
And its the hardest thing we've ever done.
We need each other more than ever.
And we need to stop comparing ourselves to each other.
The choices you make, may not work for me.
Your beliefs will not match all of mine.
How I choose to parent may not be comfortable for you.
And that's ok.
Let's make the conscious decision to support each other with love, kindness and genuine appreciation for our individual journeys. Can you imagine the example we can set for our children?
Mom friends, unite.
Thank you for being honest.
For posting photos of your worst parenting moments.
For crying out for help when you couldn't stand one more minute with your kids.
For laughing hysterically at my mishaps, and letting me do the same at yours.
Thank you for reserving judgement.
When I admit I've just pulled into the McDonalds drive thru with tears in my eyes.
When I couldn't go out for drinks because I didn't have $10 in my wallet to spend.
When I wore the same faded pair of yoga pants for the third day in a row.
Thank you for listening.
About my larger-than-life worries regarding fevers, ear infections and immunizations.
About my feelings of failure, disappointment and utter dismay at being a mom.
About the moments that made me cry deep, dark tears from my soul.
Thank you for being my cheerleader.
For sending virtual hugs that reassured me I was worth it.
For the messages of love when I was sick, run down and crawling out of bed.
For the acts of kindness that filled my heart with gratitude and love for our friendship.
The truth is, we're all in this together.
And its the hardest thing we've ever done.
We need each other more than ever.
And we need to stop comparing ourselves to each other.
The choices you make, may not work for me.
Your beliefs will not match all of mine.
How I choose to parent may not be comfortable for you.
And that's ok.
Let's make the conscious decision to support each other with love, kindness and genuine appreciation for our individual journeys. Can you imagine the example we can set for our children?
Mom friends, unite.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
The Year of Celebration
It's New Year's Eve.
How did that happen?
As I reflect on this last 12 months, I am profoundly grateful.
My children are healthy.
My husband and I are madly in love.
My mother is recovering like a champ from surgery.
I've grown closer to many relatives and in-laws.
Strengthened friendships with beautiful and strong women.
Unconditionally loved an animal despite its flaws.
I'm writing more often.
Meditating regularly.
Walking through my house daily with a greater appreciation for its character and nuances.
I worry less.
I choose my words more carefully.
I choose gratitude over anger.
I've begun a deep dive into my newest writing project, My Journey to Worthy.
For all these discoveries I have become a more mentally healthy woman. I feel as though my soul shines more clearly around my body, that those who I surround myself with have been privy to my most authentic self to date.
Yup, I really feel that way.
And its awesome.
I am very much looking forward to 2016, as it will mark some major milestones... 'big' birthdays, anniversaries and life stages which deserve celebration.
The kind of celebration which leaves you smiling ear to ear.
Where you heart bursts out of your chest with joy.
And your eyes fill with tears of excitement and love.
Bring it, 2016.
You are my Year of Celebration.
How did that happen?
As I reflect on this last 12 months, I am profoundly grateful.
My children are healthy.
My husband and I are madly in love.
My mother is recovering like a champ from surgery.
I've grown closer to many relatives and in-laws.
Strengthened friendships with beautiful and strong women.
Unconditionally loved an animal despite its flaws.
I'm writing more often.
Meditating regularly.
Walking through my house daily with a greater appreciation for its character and nuances.
I worry less.
I choose my words more carefully.
I choose gratitude over anger.
I've begun a deep dive into my newest writing project, My Journey to Worthy.
For all these discoveries I have become a more mentally healthy woman. I feel as though my soul shines more clearly around my body, that those who I surround myself with have been privy to my most authentic self to date.
Yup, I really feel that way.
And its awesome.
I am very much looking forward to 2016, as it will mark some major milestones... 'big' birthdays, anniversaries and life stages which deserve celebration.
The kind of celebration which leaves you smiling ear to ear.
Where you heart bursts out of your chest with joy.
And your eyes fill with tears of excitement and love.
Bring it, 2016.
You are my Year of Celebration.
Monday, December 28, 2015
A lesson in kindness
This December, our family tried something new.
We designed, then followed an Acts of Kindness calendar from December 1st to 24th, acting out one simple thing daily that was kind, caring and thoughtful. The acts were not centered around social justice issues, but chosen to reflect opportunities for our young children to easily make their friends, family and neighbours happier in the month of December.
While we couldn't include everyone in our Acts of Kindness, we did our best to include as many people as we could. Some days were easier to complete than others and some days required all children to participate while on other days only one child had something to check off their list. Buying snacks at school for a friend, delivering artwork to a neighbour and donating food to the school food drive were examples of their daily tasks.
It was my hope that my oldest children - Nolan (7) and Brooklyn (5) would find inspiration in the sensation of making others happy. My youngest, Ethan (2), was along really just along for the ride, but surprised me in his ability to take part and enjoy this new daily ritual.
I thought it would be fun to ask the kids a few questions, to see what they learned. Here are their answers, verbatim:
Question One: Why did we complete Acts of Kindness in December?
N - I don't know.
B - Cause that was a countdown to Christmas.
Question Two: What was your favourite Act of Kindness we completed? Why?
N - Telling jokes to Nana and Nanna. Why? I don't know.
B - Um, giving the movie to Kyleigh because that was a random act of kindness.
Question Three: How did you feel when completing an Act of Kindness?
N - Good.
B - Happy.
Question Four: Can you come up with one new Act of Kindness for next year?
N - We have to do it again next year? Isn't one year enough?
B - Make someone's bed.
Question Five: What did you learn about our family?
N - No, same as always.
B - That we have to work together.
Funny how you can raise your kids the same way, but they grow into entirely different human beings :) The truth is Nolan struggled through most of the tasks. He acted as if it was an inconvenience at times, which admittedly hurt my heart now and again. To his defence, though, Nolan is an incredibly private boy who never wishes to be in the spotlight. Asking him to 'perform' tasks did give him some anxiety, depending on how public it was.
Brooklyn, on the other hand, loved every moment of it. She couldn't wait to hear about our task each day, and was always asking ahead a few days to prepare herself for what was to come. She smiled when talking about it, loved to share stories about the outcomes each day and often found additional ways to 'help others' and 'show kindness'.
It was a fun way to focus on family and giving in December. It was also a waaaay better tool for counting down to Christmas than any overpriced advent calendar on the market. I highly recommend families try it next December and consider taking a 'theme' appropriate and relevant to your family.
Perhaps the results will be mixed, but the experience of working together as a family is entirely worth the effort <3.
We designed, then followed an Acts of Kindness calendar from December 1st to 24th, acting out one simple thing daily that was kind, caring and thoughtful. The acts were not centered around social justice issues, but chosen to reflect opportunities for our young children to easily make their friends, family and neighbours happier in the month of December.
While we couldn't include everyone in our Acts of Kindness, we did our best to include as many people as we could. Some days were easier to complete than others and some days required all children to participate while on other days only one child had something to check off their list. Buying snacks at school for a friend, delivering artwork to a neighbour and donating food to the school food drive were examples of their daily tasks.
 |
| The calendar was hung on our fridge, to remind us of our daily tasks |
I thought it would be fun to ask the kids a few questions, to see what they learned. Here are their answers, verbatim:
Question One: Why did we complete Acts of Kindness in December?
N - I don't know.
B - Cause that was a countdown to Christmas.
Question Two: What was your favourite Act of Kindness we completed? Why?
N - Telling jokes to Nana and Nanna. Why? I don't know.
B - Um, giving the movie to Kyleigh because that was a random act of kindness.
Question Three: How did you feel when completing an Act of Kindness?
N - Good.
B - Happy.
Question Four: Can you come up with one new Act of Kindness for next year?
N - We have to do it again next year? Isn't one year enough?
B - Make someone's bed.
Question Five: What did you learn about our family?
N - No, same as always.
B - That we have to work together.
Funny how you can raise your kids the same way, but they grow into entirely different human beings :) The truth is Nolan struggled through most of the tasks. He acted as if it was an inconvenience at times, which admittedly hurt my heart now and again. To his defence, though, Nolan is an incredibly private boy who never wishes to be in the spotlight. Asking him to 'perform' tasks did give him some anxiety, depending on how public it was.
Brooklyn, on the other hand, loved every moment of it. She couldn't wait to hear about our task each day, and was always asking ahead a few days to prepare herself for what was to come. She smiled when talking about it, loved to share stories about the outcomes each day and often found additional ways to 'help others' and 'show kindness'.
It was a fun way to focus on family and giving in December. It was also a waaaay better tool for counting down to Christmas than any overpriced advent calendar on the market. I highly recommend families try it next December and consider taking a 'theme' appropriate and relevant to your family.
Perhaps the results will be mixed, but the experience of working together as a family is entirely worth the effort <3.
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
A letter to my kids
Dear Nolan, Brooklyn and Ethan,
It's been a pretty great year, hasn't it? I wanted to take some time to share with you a few things I learned in 2015, now that it's coming to a close. I hope that someday you'll read this and find some comfort in these lessons.
First Lesson
The first lesson that's really stuck with me this year is the importance of taking care of my heart and soul, my spiritual self. You see, when you all came into my life, my focus really shifted from being Pam to being your mom. In doing so, I naturally put my needs at the bottom of my priority list. Slowly but surely I lost myself, my interests and hobbies, my personal passions, and began to carry around guilt any time I prioritized my own well being. Leaving my full time career further resulted in less time for self, and while I have been incredibly blessed to be your full time caregiver and mama, somewhere in the last four years I lost myself as a woman and spiritual being.
The big lesson I've discovered is this: I am a much better mother when I take time for myself each and every week, aiming for daily whenever possible. This might be a simple guided meditation, reading, creative writing or even putting you all in front of the TV so I can cook alone in the kitchen. I have discovered that dedication to self is not selfish, but one of the most outwardly beneficial choices I have made for our family. Remember this, as you juggle and prioritize in the future.
Second Lesson
Believe it or not, I learned a lot about hair this year. Weird, right?
One of my newest friends, a dance mama met at Brooklyn's dance studio, taught me that hair should be embraced, regardless of what it looks like. She lost hers during her battle with breast cancer, and as she fought her butt off this last year to kick cancer to the curb, her determination to be well really struck me. I used to spend so much time complaining about my 'boring straight hair', yet she was without any at all. As this year went on, Brookie and I decided to grow and donate ours, as a way to honour our awesome new friend. Of course Brooklyn had no problem at all cutting 12 inches off and rocking an adorable bob, but here I am, still growing it (almost 10 inches now) and every single time I want to cut it off because its driving me nuts, every time I see a shiny little grey staring back at me in the mirror, I think of my new friend. Her determination to be well. Her passionate zest for life.
You see, hair will grow, be cut, grey and maybe even recede over time, but in the grand scheme of things, embracing it in whatever shape, form or length you are given will remind you to focus on the great gifts in your life, not vanity in the mirror. Remember that even without an ounce of hair on your head you will be loved, honoured and cherished in every way.
Third Lesson
Remember when we decided to adopt Mae earlier this year? Remember how excited we all were and how much we instantly fell in love with her? Well guess what? Daddy and I struggled every single day for the first two months after bringing her home. Accidents in the house. Biting incidents. One food challenge with Moe resulting in curled lips and scary growls. Midnight barking fits begging to go outside because she ate something she shouldn't have earlier in the night.
Adopting an animal is NOT EASY. Let me repeat this. Adopting a pet is INSANELY DIFFICULT. The emotional toll of integrating animals into a family home is not an experience to be taken lightly. Having said that, as an adult, not all of your decisions will have everyone standing behind you in agreement. Sometimes you must go with your gut instinct, find the tools you need to make your instinct a reality and let the rest go. It's really tough, but remember that when you are faced with a decision, make it a quickly as possible and then forget it. The moment of absolute certainty never arrives.
Now, six months later, I feel in my heart that little miss Mae was brought into our lives to teach all three of you a lesson in unconditional love. What it looks like, how difficult it can be, and (hopefully) the pay off when you put your heart and soul into making something's life better than it ever imagined was possible.
Fourth Lesson
Lastly, and most importantly, this year your Daddy and I learned an enormous lesson about our relationship. You likely never noticed, but this year was incredibly difficult for us. There was a very long, three month period of time when I wasn't working. This meant we lived on one income, which paid our bills just fine but left us without a single extra cent for anything else. Our savings filled the gap for the first seven weeks or so, but after that your Daddy and I were overcome with worry, anxiety and the feeling of intense failure.
Here's the cool part; in the face of very negative circumstances, we were rock solid. We didn't fight, hold grudges or blame each other. In fact the opposite occurred. We held each other tighter, cried together and worked hand in hand to make significant changes to our financial future. In hindsight, we were gifted this challenge to show us the depth of our relationship and love for one another. Your Daddy is my best friend, and I pray each of you will meet someone equally wonderful someday down the road.
So there you have it kiddos, Mommy sure has learned a lot this year. Life continues to supply its challenges but when I choose radical acceptance of the situation I have discovered an ability to more calmly and assertively respond to any challenge set before me.
You three are my obsession.
My every moment is consumed with my love for each one of you.
It is my daily prayer that you will each grow in love of self, our family and of your very blessed life.
I pray your spirituality will also grow in whichever way you feel called.
And my goal as your mom is to continuously show you that kindness, compassion and grace will always lead you down the righteous path.
All my love, forever and always.
xoxo
Mommy
It's been a pretty great year, hasn't it? I wanted to take some time to share with you a few things I learned in 2015, now that it's coming to a close. I hope that someday you'll read this and find some comfort in these lessons.
First Lesson
The first lesson that's really stuck with me this year is the importance of taking care of my heart and soul, my spiritual self. You see, when you all came into my life, my focus really shifted from being Pam to being your mom. In doing so, I naturally put my needs at the bottom of my priority list. Slowly but surely I lost myself, my interests and hobbies, my personal passions, and began to carry around guilt any time I prioritized my own well being. Leaving my full time career further resulted in less time for self, and while I have been incredibly blessed to be your full time caregiver and mama, somewhere in the last four years I lost myself as a woman and spiritual being.
The big lesson I've discovered is this: I am a much better mother when I take time for myself each and every week, aiming for daily whenever possible. This might be a simple guided meditation, reading, creative writing or even putting you all in front of the TV so I can cook alone in the kitchen. I have discovered that dedication to self is not selfish, but one of the most outwardly beneficial choices I have made for our family. Remember this, as you juggle and prioritize in the future.
Second Lesson
Believe it or not, I learned a lot about hair this year. Weird, right?
One of my newest friends, a dance mama met at Brooklyn's dance studio, taught me that hair should be embraced, regardless of what it looks like. She lost hers during her battle with breast cancer, and as she fought her butt off this last year to kick cancer to the curb, her determination to be well really struck me. I used to spend so much time complaining about my 'boring straight hair', yet she was without any at all. As this year went on, Brookie and I decided to grow and donate ours, as a way to honour our awesome new friend. Of course Brooklyn had no problem at all cutting 12 inches off and rocking an adorable bob, but here I am, still growing it (almost 10 inches now) and every single time I want to cut it off because its driving me nuts, every time I see a shiny little grey staring back at me in the mirror, I think of my new friend. Her determination to be well. Her passionate zest for life.
You see, hair will grow, be cut, grey and maybe even recede over time, but in the grand scheme of things, embracing it in whatever shape, form or length you are given will remind you to focus on the great gifts in your life, not vanity in the mirror. Remember that even without an ounce of hair on your head you will be loved, honoured and cherished in every way.
Third Lesson
Remember when we decided to adopt Mae earlier this year? Remember how excited we all were and how much we instantly fell in love with her? Well guess what? Daddy and I struggled every single day for the first two months after bringing her home. Accidents in the house. Biting incidents. One food challenge with Moe resulting in curled lips and scary growls. Midnight barking fits begging to go outside because she ate something she shouldn't have earlier in the night.
Adopting an animal is NOT EASY. Let me repeat this. Adopting a pet is INSANELY DIFFICULT. The emotional toll of integrating animals into a family home is not an experience to be taken lightly. Having said that, as an adult, not all of your decisions will have everyone standing behind you in agreement. Sometimes you must go with your gut instinct, find the tools you need to make your instinct a reality and let the rest go. It's really tough, but remember that when you are faced with a decision, make it a quickly as possible and then forget it. The moment of absolute certainty never arrives.
Now, six months later, I feel in my heart that little miss Mae was brought into our lives to teach all three of you a lesson in unconditional love. What it looks like, how difficult it can be, and (hopefully) the pay off when you put your heart and soul into making something's life better than it ever imagined was possible.
Fourth Lesson
Lastly, and most importantly, this year your Daddy and I learned an enormous lesson about our relationship. You likely never noticed, but this year was incredibly difficult for us. There was a very long, three month period of time when I wasn't working. This meant we lived on one income, which paid our bills just fine but left us without a single extra cent for anything else. Our savings filled the gap for the first seven weeks or so, but after that your Daddy and I were overcome with worry, anxiety and the feeling of intense failure.
Here's the cool part; in the face of very negative circumstances, we were rock solid. We didn't fight, hold grudges or blame each other. In fact the opposite occurred. We held each other tighter, cried together and worked hand in hand to make significant changes to our financial future. In hindsight, we were gifted this challenge to show us the depth of our relationship and love for one another. Your Daddy is my best friend, and I pray each of you will meet someone equally wonderful someday down the road.
So there you have it kiddos, Mommy sure has learned a lot this year. Life continues to supply its challenges but when I choose radical acceptance of the situation I have discovered an ability to more calmly and assertively respond to any challenge set before me.
You three are my obsession.
My every moment is consumed with my love for each one of you.
It is my daily prayer that you will each grow in love of self, our family and of your very blessed life.
I pray your spirituality will also grow in whichever way you feel called.
And my goal as your mom is to continuously show you that kindness, compassion and grace will always lead you down the righteous path.
All my love, forever and always.
xoxo
Mommy
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