My Story Begins

Today I had my first appointment with Dr. A and this time I was the patient.  Kinda strange. It was the first time seeing him in person since mom was in the hospital and entered hospice care. We had communicated via email and phone a number of times since mom passed back in February.  I knew that my preventative endoscopy was long overdue (the last one was early summer of 2011).  I was suppose to get one last year but with mom getting diagnosed and then me getting pregnant, it was advised to wait until after the baby was born to do the procedure. I was fine with this because I did not want to cause any complications while pregnant.

Earlier this week, I reached out to my genetics counselor and Dr. A on the course of action for me going forward. I was now 9 weeks post-pregnancy and got the OK from my OB that the procedure would be safe to do now.  I wanted to be as proactive as I could be even though flashes of my mom's endoscopy last May brought back some very painful memories.  

Dr. A wanted to meet in person and go over everything. I decided to meet him at a different clinic. Apart of me just didn't want to go back to the clinic mom went to. Too many familiar faces, and I know there would be questions from all the chemo nurses and staff who were fond of mom. We were regulars there for most of last year and I just didn't want to see that look of sadness when I tell people what happened. I wanted to dust that off and start fresh and I did.

I decided to take Baby C with me too. I felt that I needed to be with him. He was going to get me through this. His smiling face gazing at me...his cooing...and his eyes just looking deep into mine. That is what this was about. 

As I waited patiently for Dr. A to come into the room, a familiar face peeked in. It was my genetics counselor! She was a site for sore eyes. Coincidently, she was just making a quick stop at this clinic location and ran into Dr. A in the hall who mentioned I was there today. We sat and talked for a few minutes. We oogled at Baby C as he talked baby gibberish. She told me of some interesting studies in the genetics world for diffuse stomach cancer. Interesting stuff!

Shortly after she left, I had my consult with Dr. A. We went over A LOT of information. The first thing he told me was that he wanted to coordinate my care going forward. He said that the research from BC Cancer Agency was still in the works and we don't know anything concrete right now. So, going forward,  I have to assume that I am positive for the genetic marker in order to be as agressive with prevention as possible. He definitely wants me to get going on routine endoscopies. Instead of once a year, he recommends twice a year. Also, he said that he is going to find a GI that is local who would be best at early detection. He wanted expertise. We also explored other testing that I will eventually have done in the coming year or so: endoscopy ultrasound, CT, MRI, breast cancer monitoring, and colon cancer monitoring. As you know, having the CDH1 marker not only makes you pre-disposed to stomach cancer, but also breast and colon cancer. He wanted to make sure that all angles of this were going to be looked at. We also chatted a bit about prophylactic gastrectomy..which we will explore down the road here.

I left the appointment feeling empowered. A beautiful sunny day, the wind in my hair, my son in the back seat..I felt good. I can't predict what the next few weeks, months or years will bring. But, what I do know is that life is worth living and I'm going to be calling the shots every step of the way in order to see my son grow up. 

Release

Is there a Death? The light of day
At eventide shall fade away;
From out the sod's eternal gloom
The flowers, in their season, bloom;
Bud, bloom and fade, and soon the spot
Whereon they flourished knows them not;
Blighted by chill, autumnal frost;
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust!"
Is there a Death? Pale forms of men
To formless clay resolve again;
Sarcophagus of graven stone,
Nor solitary grave, unknown,
Mausoleum, or funeral urn,
No answer to our cries return;
Nor silent lips disclose their trust;
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust!"
Is there a Death? All forms of clay
Successively shall pass away;
But, as the joyous days of spring
Witness the glad awakening
Of nature's forces, may not men,
In some due season, rise again?
Then why this calm, inherent trust,
"If ashes to ashes, dust to dust?"

Since my mom's passing in February, my sister and I have been holding off on spreading mom's ashes. Mainly, because it was winter here in Minnesota and mom wanted her remains to be spread over a body of water and all was frozen over. She left the decision of the exact location up to my sister and I. She said to do whatever we thought was best and was easiest for us.

Several weeks ago, a week before my mom's 61st birthday, we decided to finally take care of this piece of unfinished business. We decided to spread the ashes along the Mississippi River. We found a serene beautiful spot along the river. We choose this location because it was close to where she worked and lived. She loved living in downtown St. Paul and enjoyed walking along the river bank when the weather was nice. It seemed fitting.

It all worked out perfectly. My sister was in town helping me clean out mom's place that weekend along with my aunt and uncle (parents of the cousins I lost of the same cancer)  It just felt right that we were all together and knew mom would approve of it being done at this time. It was so nice to have my aunt and uncle there because due to some unfortunate circumstances, they were unable to come to the funeral. So having them be a part of the finality of life ceremony, meant a lot. Mom would've been so happy. 

My uncle (mom's bother) lead the informal ceremony with some personal words and then sang a religious verse in Hindi. My sister and I held mom's ashes and slowly poured them into the water while my aunt assisted us, as she always has. When we were done pouring the ashes, we saw three ducks swim by. We all smiled. I like to think that it was a sign...Mom, Rajen, Sandra. After we finished, I felt release. I felt mom's spirit was there with us..telling us that she's ok and to move on. Telling us that she's with Sandra and Rajen now and she'll see us again someday.

Buried Memories

Over the last few weeks, I've been handling some unfinished business that I finally felt strong enough to tackle. As you can imagine, the first few weeks after having Baby C has been bittersweet and it really took an emotional toll on me especially in post pardum and mom being gone (will take more about this in a separate blog post).

The first thing that I have been dragging my feet on is opening the two suitcases that I quickly packed the morning mom passed from the hospice. I don't really know why I couldn't open it -- mom passed in February; it was now JUNE. I had the two suitcases in my spare bedroom and would always glance at it in passing and just didn't have enough courage to open it up. I guess apart of me knew that once I open it, I'd relive that morning. I'd see the pants and top that the nurse took off her body as they prepared her body to move to the funeral home; the soft pink robe I got her cause she was always so cold in her final days; the wig she wore at the beginning of the journey but later just wore hats; the small trinkets, notes, pictures that sat beside her on her nightstand. I'd smell her favorite perfume and her unique scent.

I guess when it came down to it; I was just plain afraid to relive that morning. Being woken up in the wee hours of the morning, rushing over to the hospice, entering her room and just seeing her lifeless body there. She wasn't made up and didn't look like how she did at the funeral funeral. Instead she looked sick, and lifeless. The one thing I remember was her jaw dropped which was normal of the deceased. That's an image that will haunt me. I didn't want to remember that again. I remember taking a picture of her because my sister wanted to see her (a few weeks later, I deleted the image from my cell phone). I wanted to remember her happy, smiling and lively.

Well, a few weeks ago, I was telling my husband about how I should really open it so that I could get her iPad out to give to my sister when she visited. My sister worked very hard at putting so much on there and I knew she'd want to keep it. I knew I had to open it. I sat there just staring at it. My husband saw this, grabbed the two suitcases, brought me closer and just opened them. He helped me go through it to find what I needed.  I thank him for that. I couldn't have done it alone.

One Moment in Time

As some of you know already, I'm now a mom! It's still a surreal concept but I'm enjoying every minute  of it.  I remember chatting with my mom last summer during one of the chemo sessions about my birth. I remember her telling me that it was the most miraculous, amazing, and life changing feelings to ever endure. She could not have been more right. She said that the first time she held me and I opened my eyes and gazed at her, her heart just melted. I felt the same...the first time I held C in my arms and he looked up at me with those deep brown eyes, it took me to a place where my heart was just bubbling over with love. After all I had been through and the sadness that I experienced, he was here and I was so overjoyed.  A reason to smile, a reason to be happy...a reason to live and enjoy those who are here and love you.

I thought I'd share the emotional day. Every mom has their story of their child's birth. Here's mine...

It was Sunday night and we were watching Game of Thrones like we normally do. I started getting a couple really bad cramps but through nothing of it cause I had been getting those off and on all week and it did not result into anything. From 10 PM - midnight, the cramps started getting worse. Close to 1 AM, I knew...I was actually having real contractions. I timed them and they were about 10 minutes apart. I told S and we started to get stuff together and make our way to the hospital. We arrived there around 1:30 AM and I was checked in and then admitted into one of their pre-labor rooms to monitor my status. I was hooked up so they can track my contractions. I was dilated only 4 cm (which I have been for the past week), so no change there. Between 1:30 AM - 2:30 AM though, there was no progression. My contractions all of a sudden were getting farther apart. The staff told me that even though I was in active labor, that it would be awhile until I was ready. They suggested I head back home and track my contractions until they were about 5 minutes apart and then come back.

I was sad that I had to go back home cause I felt like I was so close. Between the hours of 3:00 AM - 5:00 AM, I tracked my contractions. They were getting painful. The contractions were now about 3 minutes apart. We got our things together and headed to the hospital again, and this time they checked me in right away to what would be my delivery room.  The contractions were intense to the point that I couldn't talk anymore. I kept progressing (about 7 cm) and at about 7 AM, I was given an epidural to alleviate some of the pain. This was a godsend. Things calmed down a bit the next few hours but unfortunately I stopped progressing and stalled out. They decided to gave me pitocin, an inducing drug,  to help things get moving. At around 11 AM, the baby's heart beat started dropping which wasn't good.   They stopped the pitocin and I had to move into various positions to see if I could get the heart rate back up, which I did. It was intense! We waited a few more hours, and still...no more progression.

They decided to start the pitocin again, but at a lower dose. I was pretty out of it and almost half asleep. All I remember is around 2:30 PM or so, my OB and a few nurses came rushing to my room and said the heart rate was dropping low again and how the baby wasn't liking it and the baby had to come out now. They said that I had to do an emergency c section. Within a few minutes, I was whisked away to the operating room with a dozen or so people flurrying around me. My heart began racing and so many thoughts flooded my mind. A part of me could not believe this was happening.  All that I kept thinking was I needed my baby to be ok. He had to be ok. Something good needed to happen. I held my husband's hand and tried to calm down as they prepped me for surgery. I closed my eyes for a moment and talked silently to mom. I said, "Mom, you told me that you'd be here if I ever really needed you. I need you now. Please let C be ok." What seemed like just a few seconds, I felt tugging on my body and shortly after, I heard my baby boy cry. Tears of joy ran down my face.

A Birthday Without Mom

A few weeks ago I experienced my first birthday without mom. The entire birthday weekend hit me very hard. It was filled with a feeling of missing-ness and my heart just hurt so deeply that at times, it felt as if I couldn't breathe. This was the first birthday that she wasn't here.  30-some years ago, she was in a hospital about to give birth to me...her first born. And today, she wasn't here. That physical bond was not present. It was a strange and foreign feeling...that's the best way I can even describe it.

First things first. I was showered by emails, phone calls, messages from family and friends all over the world so I definitely felt very loved and thank everyone who reached out to me. But,  my heart ached from mom not being here. What would normally be our "mom-daughter hanging out day",  was spent with a cousin and her family. They truly went above and beyond to make the day seem not so sad and I truly had a wonderful time. We had lunch, we laughed, and even had a birthday cake with WAY too many candles to blow out (I'm getting old!).

The day after, on my actual birthday was very special as well. My husband knowing that mom was always the first person to call me each year to wish me a happy birthday very early in the morning, called my cell phone while I was getting up to take a shower. Yes, he was in the same room. Haha! He knew how sad it made me to not get that early morning phone call and took matters into his own hands to start my birthday off with a smile. It was such a silly but quirky gesture of love and thoughtfulness. We spent the rest of the day together. We stayed in and spent the day cooking together, and watched a movie. It was nice :-)

She is OK

Lately I've really been at peace with all that has happened.  I'm sure some of you out there have noticed that from my recent postings. Yes, I still miss mom deeply and think of her each and every day. But there's something I wanted to share and I feel like that I can talk about it now. It's really been the driving force of this peace of mind that I have with me now. 

Before I start, there's one thing that you should know about me. I am not a huge religious person. I don't follow a set faith. I tend to be more logical, rational, and objective. When mom got sick, I didn't rely on faith or religion to get me through those hard times; I relied on my inner strength, and the support systems that I had which I am so so thankful for.

The whole idea of what there was in store for mom after she passed really messed with my head. The concept of just void and her soul just vanishing from sheer existence really bothered and depressed me to no end.

The night before she passed, I stayed with her very late. She was asleep for most of the time. She would come in and out of consciousness and I'd tell her about our move to the new hospice the next day. I ended up going home to get some of my things packed because I was planning on spending pretty much every moment with her at the new hospice and wanted to grab a few hours of sleep too.

Sometime around 5 am, I drifted deep into sleep. I dreamt of mom.  It was the most calming and serene feeling which I found was rather odd because up to this point, all the dreams I've had of mom were filled with anxiety, paranoia, sadness and hopelessness. In previous dreams of her for the last nine months, she was also sick and looked sick and I was constantly in tears and struggling to just come up for air because it would feel like my entire world was crushing down on me. But, for the first time, this dream was different. Mom was right in front of me. She was dressed in a red shirt and floral skirt with a wine cooler in hand. She looked how she use to look...no wig, no hookups, no sickness.  She had the most welcoming and warm smile. Then she spoke to me. She said, "Baby, I'm fine at this new place now".  In my conscious mind, I thought she was referring to the new hospice that we'd be moving to later that day.  Before I could speak to her or reach out to her, I was quickly awaken by my phone ringing. It was the nurse calling to notify me that mom had just passed away.

Looking back at it all, I don't know what to make of my dream. Was it just a dream or was it more? I'll never really know. All I do know is that I needed it. I needed to know that she was fine after all we went through together. It made me feel comforted knowing that her love for me and our shared journey created that one very special moment that I will always hold very dear to my heart.  She really loved me. And she knew that I loved her from the day I was born to her last moments. She saw all that I did for her, the sacrifices I made, and in the end that's what true love really is.  To love freely and openly and to receive that back.  She did that for me.

One Month

This part Wednesday was the one month mark of mom's death. It's strange to think it's only been a month because for me it feels so much longer. It feels like a lifetime ago actually because each day I took care of her was jammed pack with so much craziness. I've been doing ok. It's been especially hard this week because I've started to take care of all the financial/legal matters. Yesterday I went in to her bank to notify them of her passing and as I sat there in front of the banker and she kept calling all the different business lines telling them each of the death, it felt like an icy dagger stabbing my heart each time. To hear her name and the word 'deceased' was surreal. I had to force myself to keep my composure. 

My mind also wanders...in a few days, it will be my birthday. The first birthday without her. I'm definitely going to feel it that day. It was our mother-daughter tradition to go spend a day going shopping, grabbing lunch and just hanging out. When I became an adult, she would never know what to get me as a gift so when we'd shop, she'd have me try on clothes, experiment with makeup and perfume..and if I liked something in particular, she'd just get it for me. She knew that I was always the kind of person to never really treat myself to nicer things, so she took that as her cue. She'd always ask where I wanted to go to lunch and I'd always pick an Asian place. Not because it was my favorite, but it was hers. I am going to miss days like that. 

In one month (or less!), this past Wednesday is the one month mark of my due date of my first born. Even though this week has been especially stressful, I feel joy and complete happiness to welcome this baby into the world. It's one amazing feeling to love someone who you have yet to meet. I keep thinking...this is how mom felt about me as her first born. I go back and read passages of the journal I got her back last summer. She was so thrilled for this baby. You can tell that even though very sick, she knew that this was meant to be for me. Lately, as the pregnancy becomes harder on my body, I talk to her and I feel like she is around me like a warm blanket. I see the sun rise as I drive to work, I see and feel her. I recall all the tips, advice and conversations we had at each chemo appointment.  I am so grateful for those precious moments...because she taught me of what a mother should be. It's hard to explain but I feel like she went away and I don't need her anymore (even though she's missed dearly). She gave me all the life lessons, love and tools I needed.Everything she has put into being a mom, has come around and she's passed the torch for me to be a mother. I get it now. The big picture...this deep inner happiness that no one can take away.