My mother has cancer. She is the bravest woman I know. But don't you dare feel sorry for her.
Her battle returned just prior to our vineyard wedding. Amidst the planning, the excitement, the anticipation for the entire family... the battle returned. And, not for a second did she worry about herself. She protected me. She didn't want the news to shadow my wedding bliss. "Mom, are you kidding me?" I'd ask. Then over and over I had to tell her that when it comes down to it, the wedding is a day and that she and her health were much more important. She didn't listen. She has a tendency to do that.
I'm discovering internally now that that's what makes a mother, a mother.
I am anticipating the day that I can fully understand the feeling of that care, that dedication, that protection of your own child. That selflessness. I am feeling these maternal instincts lately, that urge to protect. Like the fact that I cringe every time Caleb jumps the curb and does a trick during our bike rides. "Babe, I have been doing this for a long time. If I fall, I scrape my legs," he says. I know, I know, he's 32. But, I am beginning to understand those internal instincts of protection. Caleb calls my mom, "tough as nails." She really is. My mother is the opposite of a martyr. There is nothing and nobody who can get in her way. Yet, she is also selfless, the mom who would feed and take care all of our friends, east coast honest, with a sense of humor and someone who never accepts no for an answer. She writes her own rules in this world. Some of those rules creating some really funny stories over time (those are for another day).
She is an true inspiration. When she lost her hair during the first battle, we joked about finding the hottest wig around. When she lost her breasts my sister and I washed her in the shower after her surgery. "Don't make me laugh, she said wincing and smiling." When we complimented her perky new additions. There was not even an inkling of defeat in that wince.
Not living in the same state as my mom is getting harder by the day. As my baby grows so is the need for me to be with her. I want to experience this journey with her most. I am feeling the urge to talk with her about her birthing experiences. And yes, as Caleb knows well I cry about moving home from time to time. I feel the need to ask her questions about raising three children. Heck, I might have to apologize again for that teenage angst and rebellion. (Getting arrested at the high school football game for drinking wasn't my shining moment). And mostly, though I know proximity can't change her health, I want to ask her how she really is doing. I want her to know that if the answer is scared, that is okay. I want her to be able to speak her truth. Regardless of a wedding, a baby on the way, or the fact that we live in different states.
Oh, and while I am at it I should ask her if she forgives me for doing the one she said not to do when I moved to Colorado. (Seven years ago on Saturday). "Just don't fall in love and never come back," she said as I finished packing up my little black Nissan. I remember she cried on the driveway that day, something she never did before.But, I already intuitively know the answers. She is a mother.
Just last week, Gina, Joey and I were worried about the doctor's latest news. "What the heck can you do? I got good news and bad news today." She said. Joking, positive and back at work. "It wasn't what I wanted to hear, but what can you do? At least I am doing so well on the chemo..."
She will let no one or no thing make her a victim.
She says I am a lot like her (and I used to deny that). But I embrace it today as a huge compliment.
Today I smile outloud for my mom, Michele (Shelby) Cannon. I smile outloud to the memories, to a healthy future, and to how much I can learn about the love of a mother during this pregnancy. And, don't you dare feel bad for her. She won't accept that, but she'll take all the prayers she can get.
This one is dedicated to you mom.
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| Ps. This is what 20 weeks looks like :) |
