I’m just a mom… not a hero

I received a notification this week from WordPress that I hadn’t posted anything in 6 months. Well, thanks for the reminder, but I’ve been kinda busy.

It’s not that I haven’t had words. I have them. Lots of them.They are stuck in my head, crammed in the few empty spaces between chemo schedules, 60 mile drives to the cancer clinic, my full-time job and my position as chief cook and bottle washer.

I don’t resent this. Really I don’t.

This morning, as I sit in my chair, browsing through Facebook and Instagram, reading emails and others’ blog posts, I’m mulling over the conversations I had yesterday with my therapist and my husband. Here’s the gist,

For the past 9 months, cancer has become our normal. Grandparenting has become our normal. A house full of 6 humans, including one tiny human, has become our normal. Figuring out who is watching the baby when Jeremy and I go to the City of Hope for treatment and his mama is working is our normal. Juggling a full time job with caregiving, grandmothering, filling pill containers, cooking meals and cleaning up a never-ending mess in the kitchen is our new normal.

I could go on, but I think you get the picture.

Sweet Gavin so tired he fell asleep on the floor!

One of the many hospital rooms Jeremy has occupied at City of Hope

As we approach the last 8 weeks of Jeremy’s intensive chemotherapy, I’m sitting here wondering what the new normal will be like when he and his girlfriend and our grandson move out of our home and live on their own. It will be quieter, and less messy, and things will take on a more relaxed feel. It will take some time to adjust. I’m sure of that.

But what I’m really wondering about this morning, is what it will be like to not have the safety of constant monitoring of Jeremy’s condition with lab results and doctor visits. I wonder if the maintenance treatments over the next two years will keep the cancer from recurring. And then what? Will I always be worried? Will I be able to release the outcomes since I can’t control them anyway?

I can. I will. But it may not be easy.

One of two blood drives held in Jeremy’s honor

I have a lot to say about this journey with Lymphoma. Maybe I’ll fill in the blanks here at some point. Maybe I won’t. But let me just say this,

I am not a hero or an extraordinary mom. I’m a mom with a kid who has cancer and a grandma with a grandson born in the middle of it. I am doing what any mom would do. 

I have been fortunate to have a fantastic inner circle of family and friends who have shown up in so many ways. (Especially my mother who is one awesome babysitter!) I have been blessed with a job that allows me flexibility, and bosses and co-workers that have worked with my crazy schedule without complaining. We have been cared for and walked through this entire journey with a team of medical professionals that are absolutely the best at what they do AND have kept us laughing in the process. Totally worth the 60 mile drive!

Waiting to see the doctor in one of our many outpatient visits

And above all, I have felt the presence of God with us, every time and every where, not because I had tangible evidence of that, but because I trust in the knowing that the promise is true when Jesus said,

I’ll be with you as you do this, day after day after day, right up to the end of the age. (Matthew 28:20 MSG)

Amen.

The sweetest hands!

 

3 Comments on “I’m just a mom… not a hero

  1. WOW…I’m fighting back the tears, Kari. This is so profoundly BEAUTIFUL! You may not consider yourself a hero, but I do, and I couldn’t love or admire you any more than I do! ❤️

  2. Thank you for sharing that with us. I think you may need to redefine ‘hero’ – because you sure do look like a hero to me. Sending you the biggest hugs through the Universe. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and words with us. I am blessed to know you – even if just through your blogs and facebook. Peace, Love and hoping that someday there will be oh so much laughter,

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