3 days and 3 nights...

The last 72 hours have been a roller coaster of emotions. Every morning I've woken up thinking it is all a dream. I go back in my text history and search for that initial text from AM to confirm that cancer is now a part of my life. Tears fill my eyes after each morning confirmation. It is easier to cry when Jimmy and the kids are asleep. There is no one acknowledging my sadness, my fears, or my anger. It is just me in the restroom, alone.

After gathering myself to start my day, a rush of thoughts roll through my mind. I am thinking of who I need to share the news with next. What tasks do I need to complete before I begin treatments? What things in my life will be different? The questions are endless and I feel rushed to find the answers because they are things that are pending on my checklist. For those of you that I personally reached out to, I'm sorry that your message was likely copied and pasted. It's not that I didn't want to personally create a unique delivery of bad news, but it is that my heart aches each time I type the words. I found it relieving to copy and paste the same information to my loved ones instead of reliving it.

After three days, all of my family still doesn't know. Half of my siblings are on vacation and refuse to ruin what should be a good time with news like this. To my siblings that I didn't tell immediately, forgive me for still putting you guys first before myself. My diagnosis will still be the same when you return. I have decided to have my siblings come over to mom's house this Friday to break the news to everyone at once (with the exception of Mom, Dad, and CV). I think it will be easier to have everyone there and only have to say it aloud once.

What I have come to realize so far with just delivering the news is the amount of L O V E these people have for me. The reactions have varied from immediate calls, to sweet sentiments and words of encouragement, descriptions of my character, and the desire to spend time with me. All of these things warm my heart and help me feel confident in what's to come.

Some of the sweetest moments so far have come from my oldest daughter, Addison. I decided to tell her Saturday morning while she was getting ready for ballet. Before she started brushing her teeth, I softly , "Remember when mommy told you she might be sick? Well I found out that I am and I have cancer." Her reaction will be something I hope to never forget as it shows how mature and empathetic she is. She immediately puts her toothbrush down forcefully and gives me a huge hug. Her sobbing was uncontrollable for a minute or so until I could calm her down enough to ask her "what are you thinking right now?" Addison responds with the this painful look in her eyes, "I'm not ready for you to die." Because of the media, Addison has built a direct correlation between cancer and death. I reassured that cancer does not mean death and that her grandma's sister is living proof of this. I could see an instant sigh of relief after she processed what I was explaining to her and off to ballet class she went. Sunday night she again reminds me of her ability to show empathy by taping the family's photos on my nightstand. When she completed her mini project, she tells me "Mommy, I cut these pictures out and taped them here so you know that we are always by your side. You can always have us." My heart just melted and I feel so blessed to have such an amazing and expressive daughter. Sometimes I cannot believe she is only 6 years old.

I feel like this post was more of a ramble, but then again that is EXACTLY what life is like at the moment. I feel like I'm standing in the middle of disorganized thoughts trying to grab them to create a plan. There are so much information to process and so many unanswered questions until I meet with my team of doctors on Thursday. Signing off with so much gratitude for the support I have received so far and ready to take on another day.