This is a picture of Elizabeth doing her latest trick...and let me be clear, this was not an isolated incident. She's doing it every four seconds. I realize that by making her sit there and say "Cheese!" for me that I am just reinforcing the bad behavior...but she's so damn cute. I had to take my chances. She has figured out how to climb up and sit on the dining room chairs, and because that isn't enough, she then climbs up on the table. No amount of "No!" from me, or taking her down, or holding on to the chair so she can't move it in the first place deters this child from moving on and trying to find a new way to accomplish her goal. Determination and fire. That's what this little girl is made of. The fun part was when I discovered that when you move the chairs a couple of feet away from the table, she can get on the chair, but not on the table...and she can't get off the chair! So she's stuck. And then it gets really funny, because she just starts yelling, "Hep! Tuck!" (Translation: "Help! Stuck!") She is talking more and more, and it's definitely one of the coolest stages...you spend the first year learning about each other through basically non-verbal communication (minus the crying) and then, all of a sudden, we are repaid when some of the guesswork is removed and these little beans begin to tell us what they need, want and even what they are thinking about. It is so amazing, and such a reward for all of our hard work. Hard work in the form of...

Next post. Buckle up. The truth about motherhood is about to be revealed. And even those of you who HAVE children already will be ready to give them back when I tell you how I spent my day yesterday.

To biopsy or not to biopsy?

That is the question.

The Answer? To Biopsy. Without a doubt.

I saw the surgeon Monday. He is fairly certain that the lump is part of a large mass of scar tissue from my reduction. This is great news. But he could tell that I was still scared, so he agreed that we should biopsy the area to make sure that it is, indeed, nothing.

I left feeling like a drama queen. Like the doctor gave me good news and I wouldn't listen. Like I just had to keep it going. But he told me the only way to know with 100% certainty that this is nothing is to biopsy it. So why would I settle for 90% when 100% is available for a small price: A small incision, great drugs and a day in bed with celeb gossip mags. Not too shabby, if you ask me!

One thought resonated throughout my brain bringing me to this obvious conclusion: We celebrated my grandmother's 90th birthday at my house on Sunday. She is a breast cancer survivor of twelve years. And the doctor who evaluated her breast mass said that he would have been shocked if had been malignant. And it was. But for her saying "Get rid of it," we may not have had such a celebration for our matriarch this past weekend. The irony of the timing of all of this is not lost on me.

So next Friday I will have the biopsy done. And then I can put this episode behind me, while committing to do self breast exams monthly. Without a doubt. And I expect all of you ladies who read, or men who read who also have ladies with breasts, to commit to do the same.

Fun milestones have been going on with my kids lately, and if I hadn't already gone on and on about me, I'd share them during this post. But it's all been about me lately, so the kid-bragging will have to wait for the next time! :-)

It's been quite awhile since I have even checked on my blog, and I feel sort of like a deadbeat parent. After my last post, we went on vacation, a vacation that had some wonderful moments and some beastly ones too, the toughest part of which was the drive to and from. On the upside, we learned that we are not a good road trip family. And I firmly believe that in this life it is as important to know your limitations as it is to know your strengths. So we shall fly or not go at all from now on to any place that is below Virginia.

When we arrived home, I began to get this sinking feeling about the whole breast lump thing. Like it had all gone away too quickly, too easily. And that womanly instinct thing was, unfortunately, right again. Last Wednesday, I received a phone call from my ob-gyn's office. They had apparently been leaving me messages and trying to reach me for a week. (Don't ask me what the hell is wrong with me, but I had not even checked my voice mail in the five days between the time we arrived home and the phone call from the doctor.) The nurse explained to me that because the radiologist had not been able to firmly conclude that the mass was indeed nothing more than a cyst, I would have to follow up with a breast surgeon. This is just their office policy.

I was slightly floored, while not surprised at all, which makes no sense. But that's the only way I can describe it.

So I spent the remainder of the morning on the phone with my insurance company and various doctor's offices trying to make an appointment. I was able to schedule things for this Monday, and my champion of a husband will be coming with me. That fact, in and of itself, is such a solace-maker. To know that I won't be alone sends a great deal of my fear heading for the hills.

But...(there's always one of these)

While we have repeatedly told each other that we know I'm not sick and there's nothing wrong, we are both scared. We're prepared that I will have to undergo a biopsy. That much only makes sense. Past that, there will be only good news, and then we'll make fabulous plans to celebrate the rest of our lives that is waiting for us. The one fact that I am really holding onto for confidence and calm is my gall bladder surgery...I had pre-op blood work done at that time, which was all normal, and my surgeon reported to Pete post-op that while my gall bladder was shot, the rest of me (internally speaking) was healthy as a horse.

If this "thing" is indeed "something," my hope that it would have been "something" back in October when they ran all these tests, and a red flag would have at least gone up in my blood work. This is my hope, be it irrational or otherwise, and I'm hanging on to it for dear life.

Unfolding

I had breast cancer on Wednesday.

For about five minutes.

It was, of course, all in my head. But for a good, solid, eternal, breathtaking five minutes...I had breast cancer. I sat and sobbed, feeling fear the likes of which I've not known since Elizabeth was sick. Too many odd things had happened while I was there, too many odd comments made by the technicians conducting my tests for anything other than the words "I have breast cancer" to be volleying around in the various corners of my mind. They needed more pictures for the mammogram. That was strike one. Then the ultrasound was supposed to be only of the left, and based upon the mammogram the radiologist also wanted a scan of the right. Strike two. And while the ultrasound technician (who was so sweet) was doing the ultrasound, she says the following:

Comment #1: Do you have a history of breast cancer in your family?
Comment #2: You'll know EVERYTHING before you leave here today.
Comment #3: Just to warn you, the doctor will want to come in and scan you himself.

There are a few things you shouldn't say to someone in a vulnerable condition. Three of them are mentioned above. In hindsight, I know why these comments frightened me the way that they did. I had a miscarriage many moons ago...actually I've had two. But the first one was particularly devastating because it was the first one. Before I had any children, before I knew the joy of motherhood, I was handed the pain of it. It was also a week before we were getting married, shotgun style, because we found ourselves very accidentally pregnant while engaged. I went for a prenatal exam at 13 weeks and the doctor was unable to find the baby's heartbeat. He sent me for an ultrasound. I went alone, not having the least idea that anything could actually be wrong. During the scan, the tech said the words, "Do you have anyone with you today?" And I knew then that something was wrong. So I guess I'm just slightly defensive when it comes to commentary during testing, because I've had these experiences that let me know that heartache and bad news are very often the result when people look into your body.

She left me alone in the room, with the lights dim, to retrieve the films and let the doc have a look-see. I had no breath in my body. I was so sure that tragedy was looming and an anger welled up within me, much like it did when those doctors didn't care for my daughter, leading me to pray the Hail Mary over and over and over again. Me, the one who has no real dogma, prayed to the Virgin Mother to protect me. Because I could not be sick and leave my daughters motherless.

I never got to strike three.

The girl came back in to the room and told me that everything is fine, there's "nothing there" and that the doctor doesn't even want to come in and scan me himself. I now think that the extra pictures were needed to make sure that what was on the left side was also on the right, because a lack of symmetry, either in cystic tissue or scar tissue from my reduction, would be alarming. Apparently, all things were equal. I became completely unglued, and my life, with all of it potential, unfolded. Everything suddenly made perfect sense and it was all going to be just fine. It was a beautiful moment.

And we've been celebrating ever since.

The one part of this that I did not expect was for Pete to be so effected by this. He is so level-headed, rarely gets ahead of himself, and never, ever shows fear. He is the rock. Always. And he has come to me, out nowhere, at least a hundred times, to hug me and say, "I'm so, so glad that you are going to be alright."

Life is crazy for us...it just keeps handing us opportunities, especially lately, to center ourselves and get our perspective straight. Maybe we need that more than others, or maybe we're just in a place where we're recognizing these check points for what they are, rather than ignore them. Whatever it is, I continue to be grateful. And I look forward to life with my husband and kids that will, with any luck, continue to be one that is healthy.

We leave this morning to begin our twelve hour journey to South Carolina for vacation. There will be, inevitably, entertaining blog material to follow. Bon voyage!