She is so beautiful. Every part of the experience of her is wonderful. Even changing poopy diapers is a form of love-joy. My favorite time is in the morning when she calls to us from her little crib and I lean over and she recognizes me. Then she lets loose a big smile and her whole body curls up in pleasure. I don't pick her up right away. I just try to enjoy that moment for a while and we chat a bit before starting the day. It doesn't last long though. The discomfort of a dirty diaper eventually inches in on our conversation. I also love putting her to sleep at night. We have a ritual where I rock her in my arms and say the Rosary while giving her a bottle. She loves it. Knows when it's coming. And almost never puts up a fuss.
Now Gary, or a sitter has to do all baby lifting. The first day of chemo was really bad. I came home and threw up all day and sat on the sofa dizzy, tired and experiencing more nausea that I thought was possible. They had prescribed me a ton of nausea meds, but I just kept throwing them up. So finally at about 9pm my husband called the 24hour clinic and the doctor told him to get to a 24 hour pharmacy (a half hour drive each way!) to pick up a much stronger med that would at least put me out.
Everyone told me to drink lots of water the day of chemo - but I literally threw it all up. Morning of Day 2 we went immediately to the clinic to sit on a saline IV bag for a couple hours. They also inserted a permanent pump into my port which will distribute very powerful anti nausea meds at regular intervals - or if I get really bad I can push a button and get a jolt of meds. This definitely helps the nausea. I am nauseous, but am able to eat a little here and there. However these drugs make me very dizzy and tired so I feel very nervous about picking up baby. I find I literally wobble into walls. Luckily daddy has been home for the last three days, but I suspect he is beginning to realize what a challenge being the full-time care giver can be. I have no desire for him to learn that lesson. I want to pick up my baby, feed her and carry her and swing her. I want to play with her and entertain her and sing songs to her. I haven't sung to her in two days now. Will I ever sing again? Maybe after a couple more days? We hope to get the pump removed on Saturday morning.
Gary is struggling too. It's a lot for him - it would be for anyone. I remember the first three months alone with baby. Had to be the hardest most stressful months of my life. I used to love conducting the children's choir once a week because I finally felt like I was doing something I knew how to do. Now Gary's really on his own, and I understand the frustration he must be feeling. In the end though - he is a really good man, and the luckiest part of this whole process for me.
Still, whenever he gets tired of her, I am dying to hold her, but I feel so weak and dizzy. . . he can make her laugh quite often. I love to hear her laughter - her daddy does it best.
Before treatments began I used to think "I have to get through this for her." Then as the tests and pokes began I thought "she will get me through this." Now that I'm experiencing the chemo. "I have to get through this for her." I want to be her mommy again.
Not sure what the right thing to do here is. I really wanted to be the best case scenario patient. So many women just keep right on going to work during chemo. But I feel so tired and dizzy and nauseous. Am I doing something wrong? I want to do all the things I planned, like exercising and teaching some voice lessons. But will I be able to? What's the best thing to do here for the long term results? Sit it out and watch stupid TV or force myself to do activities I don't feel up to doing?
They are giving me some hormone shots that should help to alleviate the effect of the chemo on my fertility. It is not a guarantee fix and for many women doesn't work at all. But I have been told by several doctors that I will also gain a significant amount of weight from them. . . great.
Every time I see her I thank Jesus for my little girl. Sometimes in the quiet of my heart. Sometimes so others can hear me. Then Gary replies "I told you, you don't have to call me Jesus." :) Daddy can almost always make me laugh. There is a good possibility that we won't be able to have any more children after this. This makes me so sad, but double grateful for our little girl. Perhaps God will send an adoptive child our way? I can' look at the future anymore... All my life I was told to have goals. Long term goals, short term goals. What a bunch of cocky poop. Cancer changes everything. EVERYTHING. No more goals. Only living in the present - today and making the best of that.
At least that's my philosophy for today.
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