Moms Don’t Get Sick

When your friend is 28 years old you expect the normal news from them, I’m pregnant or we bought a house. You never expect the phone call where she tells you she has at least stage three breast cancer and starts chemotherapy in a week. It’s not something you’d expect or want to hear at any age but it’s when you’re at an age that you feel untouchable by the “that could never happen to me” moments that it feels like a donkey kick to the stomach.

The natural first response from my friends was tears and disbelief. I would receive a call or text a few hours later from them that would say “I’m finally processing what you just told me”. The minute it finally hit them though, all my friends jumped into action. I had a meal train for the next four months completely booked two days after I found out about my cancer. I had mountains of gifts arriving at my door to which we called “cancer christmas”. I had endless words of encouragement from everyone when the news was finally made public. It was completely unreal.

The first week was a blur, between the processing of all this new information and all the procedures I had to complete. The morning of my port surgery, my badass bus stop besties put together a coffee get together. They surprised me with my first pink ribbon, a giant goodie bag, personal letters, and decorations. I’m not sure they will ever know how much that meant to me. That day was the first step towards my new life. I was officially starting my journey of being a cancer patient. I was internally feeling like the equivalent of several chickens running around with their heads not only cut off but also on fire. They stepped in to show me that nothing about our friendship was going to change even if I was the new town sickie.

My ride or dies who lived hours away started trickling in immediately. One a special needs teacher who was also in graduate school, one a midwife who was pregnant herself, and one of Charlotte’s top hair dressers with a client list so long I don’t know when she finds time to sleep. Even with packed lives of their own, they dropped everything to be by my side. They held me while I processed this unbelievable news, they kissed my bald head, and they made sure I knew how incredibly loved I was.

On top of all this, I cannot believe the amount of people who reached out to me to let me know I was being thought of. One thing that’s not talked about when you have cancer is that initially no matter how many people surround you, you can some times feel alone because only you are the one that is able to truly fight this. I quickly realized that I may be the only one standing in the front lines for this battle but I have hundreds of people standing right behind me holding me up.

There are days where I want to give up. I’ll be in the thick of chemo symptoms where I am in bed and can’t play with my kids or enjoy time with my husband. In those moments, I think to myself “why me” or “I can’t continue to do this”. Each round of chemotherapy can feel like a step closer but it does a great job of crushing your spirit. That’s where my friends come to the rescue. I’ll be in my darkest place and I will get a text from someone letting me know they are thinking of me or that I am a badass and can do this. Another friend will step in and give my kids some one on one time while I am recovering. Sometimes a simple, I love you text will appear and that’s all I need to keep going.

I knew my friends were one of a kind but this journey has completely solidified that. They not only had to handle my crazy, loud self before the cancer but now they continue to love me as I’m bald and soon to be boobless. The love and support is never ending. I have never for a second been alone in this.

At times, it has been hard for me to accept all this love and support because I have to come to terms with the fact that I do need help and I am sick. I am a stubborn woman who refuses to ask for help, ask my poor husband. This is the first time in my life I have stepped back and handed over my workload to my friends and family. My doctors, medications, and procures are 2 percent of beating this cancer but the other 98 percent is the positive energy, love, and support I receive from them.

The biggest thing that I will never forget from this is how my friends took care of my family. I have never for a second worried about if my kids were being loved on or taken care of. Each time my out of town friends come to visit, they have gifts in hand and are ready for any game or craft they are presented with. My neighbors have become a second family and my kids feel right at home with each pick up from school or play date.

As you know, my kids are my everything. Allowing myself to focus on getting mommy better is so difficult but I am slowly learning that the best thing for my babies is to do just that. In a few months, I will be back to being a regular mom who will just have a few less body parts and I cannot wait. All this to say thank you to each and everyone of you that has helped me through this. The only way I got to this point was getting by with a little help from my friends.