When this all first went down, I was so happy that I was able to be part of Charly's 5th birthday. That took place 11 days after my radical mastectomy and if it wasn't for the wonderful help from my friend Verrill, who stepped up to the plate with out hesitation, I wouldn't have had the energy to put it together.
Today, Maddy turned three. I've reached my first goal folks. I wasn't sure when this began where I was in the process of beast control, had no clue based on the odds in the literature if I'd make it the long 6 months to today. I wanted so badly to see my baby turn three, and here I am in tears that it happened. It's a little bitter sweet, as I celebrate these milestones in my children's lives, I wonder, is this the last one that I'll be here for? It's a thought I can't shake. A thought very real for someone who doesn't have a monster waiting in the bushes outside to attack, but in the lungs, or the heart, or the spleen, or perhaps the bones. Waiting, sometimes for years, completely silent so as not to stir even one leaf on the branches where they lay in wait just to come out in full force to take you down.
We took the girls to chuckee cheezits and watched as their innocence coalesced with that of all the other children finding their way from one token enriched smile to the next.
On the way home, we all enjoyed the last remnants of the sun. It had long since set and was most likely interested in the bright beginnings of a far off sunrise, but we still enjoyed the left overs nontheless.
I love them enough I think for anything to happen.