December 5th, the dreaded phone call “you have stage 3 metastatic breast cancer”.
my daughters tiny 3 year old hands wrapping around my neck, my 8 and 9 year old sons sitting at the table with their dad as he tries to explain this in a way that makes sense. I’m not special to anyone in particular except my family, I’m not the first or last person that will have cancer. I’ve never been the type to ask for anything, I’ve always handled it myself but this time I can’t. I need help, I need to make sure my kids are taken care of while I go through this. I’m asking for help because they need me, you don’t need me but they do. My daughter will need me to brush her beautiful auburn hair, to teach her how to tie her shoes, to hold her hand when she walks into kindergarten for the first time. My 8 year old son will need me in the stands cheering him on at his football games, to show him how to be a compassionate human being, to stay up way too late eating junk food on Saturday nights. My 9 year old needs me to help build Lego sets with him on Friday nights, to help him with his first heartbreak, to be there in the quiet times when life seems to be a lot and we just lay on our trampoline looking at the stars.
I can’t wrap my head around them leading a life without me, I’m choosing to fight and come out of this stronger than before. I need help with bills that will inevitably be piling up, I need my husband to take some time off of work to help with the kids during my appointments. If you’ve read this far I appreciate that more than you can imagine, and at least I’ve gotten this off my chest.
@autumnlapeyrouse95