Celebrating 10 years of hope & Bennett

February 8th is a day of hope and joy.

On this day we found happiness and laughter in the midst of a scary time in our life. This is the day we welcomed a healthy baby boy into the world- Bennett Arthur MacGregor. Ten years ago, today.

I was diagnosed with cancer at the age of 30, 7 months pregnant. The scariest experience of our lifeā€¦ up until that point. We were blindsided and overwhelmed. No family history, healthy, active, organic eating young mom. The disbelief was like a tidal wave. Hitting us repeatedly.

I walked in to my first chemo appointment and the receptionist smiled kindly telling me I was on the wrong floor. ā€œSweetieā€ (I lived in Alabama) ā€œOB/GYN is on the third floor.ā€ I looked at her, pen shaking in my hand. I signed in. Deep breath. ā€œNo. Iā€™m in the right place.ā€

They hooked me up to the chemo, explaining the toxicity of the adriamycin and cytoxan regimen. The ā€œred devil,ā€ as it is known. I watched poison pump into my veins. I felt our unborn child kick. 3 times we repeated this routine. Each time hoping the chemo wasnā€™t making our unborn child feel as awful as it was me. My hair fell out. My belly grew.

The world as we knew it crumbled.

But, we believed in our doctors and the hope they had for both me and our child. We clung to stories of others who had faced cancer while pregnant.Ā  And on February 9th ā€“ we breathed a collective sigh of relief as our baby was removed from my toxic, cancer producing body. Full term, healthy andā€¦ with bright red hair. Sometimes life throws you humor when you least expect it. We donā€™t have anyone with red hair in our family. Our older child is blonde. As I looked down at our son finally safe in my armsā€¦ I never imagined holding a red headed baby. Could it be the chemo??? No one could say for sureā€¦ but it certainly made us all laugh. And he has truly lived up to the joke around the hospital that day that he we had our very own ā€œred devil.ā€

Our little chemo baby. A miracle of sorts.

Ten years later he is a spunky, creative, sporty, caring boy. His first word was ball. And we never had to teach him to throw or kick. Everything is a competition. He loves to solve problems. His memory is uncanny. ā€œRemember that time we were skiing in Big Sky and that little snowboarder hit that jump when we were on the chair lift?ā€ Ummmā€¦ we were in Big Sky when you were fiveā€¦ kind ofā€¦ why? The person next to me said, ā€œhe has some ballsā€ ā€“ that’s what that player just said about his teammate. ā€œSteal trapā€ Jay and I often whisper to each other when he brings up minute details and connects them to things happening today. And each time, I canā€™t help but thinkā€¦ will he remember me with such clear detail?

Each year Bennett and I take a nose to nose picture just like the one we took on the day he was born. Of course, now he complains. ā€œMo-om. Do I have to?ā€ Yes. You do. If only he knew how much his birth meant to our family. How that moment of stillness, nose to nose each year connects us to his precious birth day. A snap of a picture, my way of reinforcing the hope his life meant and continues to mean in the face of cancer. Each year we can take it is another year I am here, able to love him and be his mom.

 

Happy birthday sweet Bennett B. We love you. And your awesome red hair. A constant reminder of living and loving life over cancer. I am so excited you are 10. And I am your mom.

$25 on the 9

January 9th came and went and I never checked up. Didnā€™t even cross my mind that 4 years ago to the day our world was rocked with the news that breast cancer spread to my bones after nearly 7 years ā€œcancer free.ā€ I became a metastatic breast cancer (MBC) patient. A diagnosis with treatment options, but no cure. Life expectancy is 2-3 years. Terminal.

Jay and I traveled to a large, well respected cancer center to talk with ā€œone of the bestā€ doctors we could find to make a plan. Said ā€œexpertā€ doctor basically outlined my demise. As I understood it, I would be dead in 3 years. Devastated, we came home and I called one of my designer friends and asked her to be the Creative Director for my funeral.

My friend straight up refused the position. She and hundreds of others rallied around me to live. I found doctors who believed with me that I wasnā€™t a statistic. I decided instead of waiting to die, I would live. I would make my body as healthy as possible and hold on for science… The longer I live, the more time there is for breakthroughs and new treatments. I found people who lived with this disease for 5, 10, 15 years.

Four years later I didnā€™t even think to remember this devastating anniversary because I was busy LIVING a HEALTHY and HAPPY life. Take that ā€œexpert.ā€

This disease is awful. Brutal. Unpredictable. Devastating.

I am one of the lucky ones. Over the past four years friends have been diagnosed and passed away, while I sit here relatively healthy. The reality is 111 people die each day of MBC. It is the leading cancer killer in women under the age of 50. I am an Exceptional responder ā€“ not the norm.

Breast cancer is many cancers ā€“ influenced by genetics, hormones and other factors. I didnā€™t do anything in particular that made my trajectory different than those who died. Just damn lucky.

I share this post today because I wish I knew about people like me when I was first diagnosed. The simple fact that you can live well with this disease wasnā€™t presented to me as an option. I am a small percentage of patients. But, I am not alone. I am often hesitant to share my good health at the risk of sounding unsympathetic. But, I am reminded by friends who are facing devastating progression that each time we see someone doing well with MBC it brings us hope. My joy is their joy. Their pain is my pain.

So, January 9th, I am glad to have forgotten you.

Instead I am going to remember moments like the first Ā½ marathon I ran with MBC, the time I swam with sharks, climbed a mountain and chased my kids on a frozen pondā€¦ with MBC.

I know there will be another date that rocks our world. A day when I face progression or treatment changes. But, instead I am focused on meaningful experiences- learning something new, spending slowed-down quality time with people I love, helping Hope Scarves reach more people, moving my body, renovating an old farmhouse. And, celebrating!

Actually, I write this from the sky, flying to Las Vegas where we are celebrating a dear friendā€™s birthday. Iā€™ve never been. This friend is worth it ā€“ sparkles, champs, dancing. Craziness. Living life to the fullestā€“ celebrating aging as a blessing not a disappointment.

$25 on the 9.

*I forgot to publish this blog post ā€“ until now that we are back from our trip. Indeed 9 was a big winner for me on the craps table (Iā€™ve never gambled before). Most of all – it was a chance to spend laughter filled time with people we love.Ā  Grateful for the chance.Ā  What’s next?