Aiden is a good little toddler and always very curious...

“Mommy, I had a gooooood nap.  Can we go to the library now?”

While working on my last blog post, this – spoken in a sweet, squeaky, post-nap voice – is what I heard coming from Aiden’s room.  As I leaned my desk chair back and peered out of my office, all I saw was a mop of crazy, sleep-spiked hair peeking out behind the baby gate blocking the doorway of his “big-boy” room.

I quickly released the gate pressure and kissed his nose.  “Yes, let’s go!”  When a toddler’s request is actually granted, it is as if time stands still.  In an instant Aiden’s shoes were on, hair was flattened and coat buttoned.  Without hesitation, we were in the car, ready to go, only moments later.  Ahhhhh, if only we could leave the house with such ease every day.

This was our first official trip to the library.  Aiden’s treatment and recovery didn’t afford us many opportunities to go to very public places.  Now that Aiden has no restrictions and I am taking some time off, I have decided to jump at these chances and relish in all of life’s simple pleasures.  Aiden, of course, had an objective in mind: Curious George books and lots of them.

Ashburn library was packed as we made our way to the information desk; we were in need of a library card.  As I filled out paperwork, Aiden again shared his love of George with the librarian. She obliged his adoration with a description of her favorite tale about the trouble-seeking monkey – George Visits the Library. 

We spent a max of 10 minutes in the Children’s section after locating the H A Rey books.  Aiden found what he wanted and, after bargaining with him to not take the entire Curious George collection, we left with our loot.  Aiden wanted to read his new library books with mommy in his rocking chair.

Aiden loved coloring at the library (while keeping close tabs on his books, of course)

That evening I held my little love-bug and gently rocked back and forth feeling his soft, damp, towel-dried hair against my cheek.  I simultaneously breathed in the sweet scent of lavender and vanilla that had soaked his little body only minutes earlier.  I was truly relishing in the moment and treasuring every millisecond.

“READ THIS ONE, MOMMY!” 

Aiden was emphatically shaking Curious George Goes to the Hospital in my face.  In an instant, I returned to the present, awoken from my little reverie.  The worn plastic book cover crackled as I opened it and began to read.  As we got deeper and deeper into the story (it was a long one) I noticed Aiden was hanging onto every, single word.

(SPOILER ALERT – Unbeknownst to the man in the yellow hat, George swallows a puzzle piece.  He quickly becomes symptomatic and is brought to the hospital.  Following imaging, an endoscopic procedure is performed to remove the impediment.  George recovers then causes trouble but ends up saving the day.)

Right after reading that George received an x-ray, Aiden asked me if George was also going to “get a shot and go in the big machine.” 

My heart literally stopped.

Aiden was speaking of the imaging and tests that he gets done.  I quickly said, “Yes, George will go in the big machine just like you.”  I could feel the tears welling in my eyes, but I swallowed away the urge to cry.  I was so thankful that Aiden was on my lap facing the book.  He is quite intuitive for his age and can tell when mommy is sad.

So….there I rocked…realizing that my little baby is truly a little baby no more.

Aiden then showed me the crook of his left arm where he had received his last blood draw.  A small yellow-purple bruise started back at us.  Aiden likes to show off his “blood” as he calls it. 

The most recent time Aiden received scans and blood work, he put up a fight.  The second we entered the imaging room at the hospital, he clung to my body and begged me to take him home.  Honestly, stepping in front of the “big machine” I felt the exact same way.  Helplessly, I hugged his little body and covered his head with a million kisses.  The anesthesia worked quickly while the incredibly kind anesthesiologist sang nursery rhymes.

Aiden is thriving and developing, as a three-year old should, which is amazing given all that he has been through. Like George, though, Aiden is often very curious.  Even though I would like to encapsulate the times we go in for scans and visit the oncologist, I realize that Aiden may in fact be seeking more information now.  I don’t plan to sit my three-year old down and talk about cancer per-say, but I do plan to offer him an outlet to express his feelings.

Aiden should feel safe and in control.  I think that it may be time to visit the radiology office for fun; let Aiden meet with some of the doctors and see some pictures.  Having worked for many years in radiology marketing, I am fortunate to have imaging contacts that feel like family.

 After tucking Aiden into his toddler bed, adorned with Curious George sheets, he asked me if George was going to be okay.  “Yes, George is brave little monkey just like you.”  With a big smile on his face, we kissed goodnight. 

As I turned off his bedroom light and shut the door, I again heard that squeaky, sleep-laden voice, “I love you, mommy.”

“…and I love you my sweet, big boy.”

The Day-After: before, during and following

-BEFORE-

My phone – alert and ready – was plugged into the charger, ringer on high.  I, on the other hand, was anything but …

Several minutes earlier I had been lying on the guest bed at my parent’s home. Aiden was asleep on one side of me and my mother was situated on the other.  I had just finished reading how the Bearenstein Bears tackled the commercialization of Christmas – at least that was my take – when Aiden let the weight of his sleepy eyes drift him off to dreamland.  Apparently, my whispery naptime voice also worked on my mother.

I stealthily slinked out of the bed as to not interrupt their slumber and walked the familiar hallway down to my parent’s room.  The afternoon sun was at its brightest which did not bode well for my sleep-strained eyes and throbbing headache.  Shielding my face, I quickly shut the blinds and made my way back to the bed.  I needed to rest, but sleep was out of the question; after all, I had to be alert and ready.

When hit by the bus of pure, raw exhaustion, though, not even limitless cups of Starbucks Dark Roast can save you.  I was THAT tired.  So there I sat – yes, sat – with two pillows propping me up while sleep consumed me.  It must have been 45 minutes or so later that my phone rang and, yes, I missed the call.

When I finally opened my eyes, I leapt from the bed almost entirely missing the nightstand housing my phone.  Regaining my balance, I clicked the phone screen awake and saw the missed number.  Aiden’s oncologist had called which meant the preliminary results of his scans were likely in.  At that moment, though, all I could see was the little red dot signifying 1 new voicemail.

After what seemed like an eternity, I got through the prompts and listened to the message. 

“…We will be reviewing Aiden’s scans at radiology rounds on Thursday.  I did speak with the radiologist, though, and Aiden’s MRI and CT show no evidence of residual or recurrent disease…”

Exhaustion was immediately replaced with elation.  So much so, that I couldn’t seem to utter a word.  I somehow made it down to the kitchen where I found my little munchkin enjoying a snack and some Memaw-time (Memaw is the name Aiden gave my mom).  I immediately entangled his little body with my own.  At some-point during the embrace, I shared the wonderful news with my mother.  Calls to daddy and other family members soon followed.

Aiden after hearing the great news (and after I released him from our huge hug)

*  *  *

-DURING-

Originally I had planned to write about the beauty that is encompassed in the day following good results.  Unfortunately, the Wednesday after Aiden’s scans did not go as smoothly as I expected…

(This entry has nothing to do with Aiden’s health; my little superhero is still doing great!)

I woke Wednesday morning as if I was breathing for the first time.  Stepping on the back deck, I slowly swallowed mouthfuls of crisp, cool morning air.  I felt the icy breeze awaken my body as I gazed onto the pond behind our home.  A few ducks were at the waters edge while early morning joggers ran around the perimeter.  I saw the beauty around me but more importantly, I felt it.

Receiving news of Aiden’s continued good health was invigorating.  The day-after is always the best because the next set of routine scans are the furthest away.  Worry is replaced with gratitude and hope persists.  I love the day-after.

On this day-after, though, I was tested.

Earlier, when I spoke of my exhaustion it wasn’t due entirely to worry.  I had been up working on a client request until the wee hours of the morning.  Having just recently begun this professional relationship, I felt it important to heed the request.  Oh, how very wrong I was…

Aiden’s day of imaging was grueling and I was at a disadvantage mentally, physically and emotionally.  Though I felt such relief following his good findings, I was still recovering from the magnitude of it all and “it” is a pretty big burden to bear.

Around noon, on the day-after, it came to light that my new client…my first client…my only client and I would not be able to maintain a healthy working relationship.  I know it boiled down to skewed expectations but I have never been broken down in such a way professionally before; I was in shock.  Though, it was expressed that I was in fact “right” for the job, I knew that the job was in no way right for me.

I felt like I had failed…again.

I left a traditional job only to turn around and sever ties with my first contract.  My life isn’t “normal” and I need more flexibility to tend to Aiden’s appointments, needs, etcetera.  None-the-less, I felt as if I was the common denominator.  The series of events that made up my day-after turned out to be anything but invigorating.  I was embarrassed and worried about the loss of income going forward.

Exhaustion, that had been lying dormant to elation, again surfaced.  This time, though, I did not fight it.

*  *  *

-FOLLOWING-

The next morning, I woke with a sense of clarity and awareness.  I knew that I needed to chalk this misstep up to a learning experience and move forward.  I officially cut-ties with my client on this day-after the day-after.  Life is just too precious to be wasted crying and worrying about a job; that act alone is telling in and of it’s self.

I hugged Aiden so tightly that morning and thanked him for making me so very strong.  He is the reason that I am a better person.  I know what is important in life and what is not.  Though I have never felt confident calling myself the best at anything, I know that I am a good mom and that is by far the most rewarding job I will ever have.

* * *

Today I am at a crossroads.  I am not really sure where my professional life will take me (don’t worry, honey, I am still working on it) but – in the meantime – I am thinking about giving this “writing-thing” more of a shot.  I will be blogging regularly and hope to explore some other writing/speaking opportunities while possibly working on some small-scale consulting gigs.  For now, I am thoroughly enjoying some extra time with the loves of my life.

NOTES-TO-SELF:

1.     Sleep; alertness cannot be feigned.

2.     Live every moment like the day-after; again, tiny moments matter.

3.     You are a superwoman and don’t ever let a person, job or circumstance tell you otherwise.

4.     Life has a plan so let go of presumptions and go with it.

5.     Do what you love – write out loud!

The Shower

Last night I didn’t want to shower.

Strange intro to a blog entry, I know.

The truth is – I learned much about myself when Aiden was in treatment and this “shower thing” was one of the line items on my list of self-truths.  Yes, showers can be refreshing and calming, a direct conduit to relaxation.  Of course, they also serve a necessary, hygienic purpose.  The second I felt my emotional balance begin to waiver, though, the idea of standing in a shower – naked and alone – petrified me.

I would quickly – but efficiently, I assure you – shampoo, condition, and shave while Christmas music blared from my smart phone.  No, it wasn’t December or even November for that matter; it was a distraction.  Back then I was fighting the urge to think.  At times, my thoughts would run wild - kicking, bucking, and bespeaking harm to anyone daring to intervene.  I just made it my job to Fa La La La while I rub-a-dub-dubbed. 

Outside of these isolated moments, I was in go-mode.  My mind didn’t have a chance to overload when I was running at hyper-speed.  Now that Aiden has been in remission (for about a year and a half – praise the Lord) I just assumed those thoughts would melt away much like the last patches of snow in the early days of spring.  The thoughts are still there, though, frozen in my mind; they are reduced in number but present none-the-less.

This week I felt my emotional health begin to take a hit.  Even knowing – all too well – the importance of physical-mental-spiritual wellness, I ignored my body’s cues and continued on my personal path to exhaustion.  I tried to be supermom, happy homemaker, and doting wife while also running a very new business.  I have read the articles about how “supermom” does not exist and that being “busy” is no one’s fault but their own.  Somehow, though, I still strive to do IT all and I do not forgive my own missteps.

SO back to last night’s shower situation…

After getting Aiden to bed, glimpsing again at my work email and checking in with my hubby and dog, I exclaimed, “I am going to take a shower.”  My day at the office (I work in my home) had been a long one and I took my husband’s nod and slight glance from the couch as an indication to openly share my day’s frustrations.  It was as if my husband suddenly morphed into one of my gal pals, wine-in-hand, ready to cheer on every rant. 

When I heard the words, “well, it was your decision to start your own business and work from home,” I suddenly realized they hadn’t come from gloss-laden lips.  I stopped, tucked my tail between my legs and sulked up the stairs.  I entered my bedroom, then bath only to be confronted by The Shower. 

Before finding the strength to open the glass door, I sat down, breathing deeply, tears rolling down my cheeks.  It wasn’t my husband’s words that hurt – he is by far my best supporter – it was those pesky thoughts clouding my mind.  Aiden’s quarterly (routine) scans are scheduled for Tuesday of next week.  Staying exhaustively busy seemed to help stave off my fear of the unknown, at least in the short run, because it left my mind no time to wander.

Unfortunately, not taking the time to care for myself has now left me at a disadvantage; my heart is tender, my mind is anxious and my body is tired.  Small daily – and exceedingly normal – tribulations seemed to have taken on monster-like significance.   Despite the hot mess that I had become last night, crumpled in a ball on the bathroom floor…literally, I stepped into The Shower. 

And you know what?  I lived to tell about it.

Instead of continuing on a destructive road, I allowed my mind to think about all of the amazing things that are in abundance around me – first and foremost, my son Aiden.  He IS a Rock Star and I – along with my hubby – will continue to be his biggest fans.

“So irrational-shower-induced thoughts, take THAT! The moments I am living NOW have you beat.”

* * *

We all have worries and fears, which are relevant to our own lives.  Though I believe in acknowledgement of such things, we should also learn how to dismiss (not ignore) them.  Celebrating all the tiny moments, that occur every day, makes us stronger even during times of stress. 

* * *

After getting on my PJs, I walked back to my office.  I sat down, wrapped myself in an electric blanket and closed all open items on my desktop.  I clicked upon the Word icon and started writing this very entry-turned-personal reminder. 

NOTES-TO-SELF:

1. Always remember to shower yourself with the people and things that you love.

2. When you feel like sharing simple daily frustrations and "mommy-rants," phone a friend.  You will gain satisfaction and the best candy-coated response available. :-)

3. Tiny moments matter, too; celebrate them!

My Little Sunshine

It is cloudy today in Loudoun County, Virginia, so I thought it was the perfect time to share a little "sunshine" with each of you.  There is no question, Aiden is MY sunshine and this video brings a smile to my face.  Please enjoy Aiden's "rock" version of You are My Sunshine.  Also, my last blog post had about 400 views over the past few days; thanks to all of you for taking the time to drop by.  More coming soon!

   

I just love him; my sweet little sunshine.  :) 

Last we spoke...

Last we spoke – well, last I wrote – I painted you a picture of my life.  My words drew an outline of a happy family; a household that struggled but overcame unimaginable odds.  The pencil sketch wasn’t perfect but the lines were strong and ambition was real.  Since my last entry, I found the passion I shared with each of you starting to wan.  Life became complicated and I watched our drawing change before my eyes. (FYI -this is not related to Aiden’s health; he is doing great.)  Thick black lines began to blur and varying shades of gray emerged.  I found myself desperately trying to erase the past, but – no matter how hard I tried – the faint impression of old memories was imprinted on the paper.

I know that I drew each of you the most perfect-imperfect picture you had ever seen.  I had no intention of actually doing this, but – nonetheless – that is exactly what I did.  I did not give myself an opportunity to grieve or fully process the hell that we went through.  I just cheered about how we were starting fresh and loving every second of our new normal.  In truth, I only allowed myself to focus on Aiden and his health.  I felt immense guilt for becoming upset about anything else; concerns regarding my marriage, family, friends, career, personal happiness were pushed aside. I worked hard to stockpile all my prayers, hopes, and dreams for the health and happiness of my child.

"The pencil sketch wasn’t perfect but the lines were strong and ambition was real"

  

Though I will never stop praying for the well being of Aiden, I do realize now the err in my ways.  Aiden’s health and happiness does not exist in a vacuum.  He is impacted by all aspects of life and looks to Chris and I as examples on how to thrive; it is our job – as parents – to rise to this occasion.

**Photo courtesy of Kristen Gardner Photography**  Being a good parent is remembering how to be a kid again

The “complications” I mentioned earlier, surround a fragile marriage, disheartened friendships, arduous move and now ill-fated job change.  Weaved throughout each complication, though, is the fear and anxiety that always exists surrounding a sick child (even when the child is all better).  I was not able to wrap my head around any of this because it was all too, well, complicated.  The thing is – I don’t live in a vacuum either. 

 

Chris and I are committed to each other and our marriage.  We are rebuilding our union, which was put on hold for such a long while during Aiden’s treatment.  I am attempting to open communications with friends and trying, though excruciatingly difficult (for me), to let some lost friendship go.  The move back to our home is OVER so I can at least cross that one off my list.  Chris and I will never again, though, attempt to move, repaint our home and renovate our rental property in the span of two-week’s time.  

 

**Photo courtesy of Kristen Gardner Photography**  It's been six years now; we have been through so much, but know that true love will persist

  

Last but not least, my job.  I recently started a full-time position with a company that I hold near and dear to my heart.  Shortly after arriving, though, I realized the position was not a good fit for me.  I so wanted this decision to be the right one.  Fortunately, though, it was not.  This wrong move was the catalyst I needed to finally do something I really love.  

One December 1^st 2012, with the love and support of my husband and the inspiration of my son, I started my own business as an independent marketing consultant.  Aiden is a Gaelic word which means “Little Fire” and out of that FIRELIGHT CONSULTING LLC was borne. To me the word fire symbolizes my son, my passion, and my unwavering commitment to all that I do.  It is true, every idea – in business and in life – beings with a spark.

I created this document back in college while taking a transition to workplace course; my career summary has changed a bit over the years, but note my long-term goal (bottom of picture)

  

Okay, okay…taking my marketing hat off for a moment…

I think that I am finally okay with this ever-changing picture of my life.  I have decided to cut myself some slack and let go of guilt.  This is easier said than done, though, so I will continue taking baby steps.  Instead of shutting down when I get overwhelmed, I am going to pick up the phone and call a friend or go outside for a brisk run or write out my feelings. Here’s to living life in full color and re-painting your own picture whenever and however you darn-well please! 

 

**Photo courtesy of Kristen Gardner Photography**  Laughter and love go hand-in-hand

 With all the being said, Hello Sunshine is back! I have so much more to share and plan on making writing a priority in my life.  I hope you decide to hop back in my car and – again – come along for the ride.

 

 Well, this is "my ride"; albeit a dirty one :)