Hey people. Thinking about you.

You know how sometimes, you just have a hard time finding the right line? I started this blog to write about moms and musical identites, and how important it is to keep that spark of joy in your life. And while I’m totally doing it by any means necessary, I’m finding it hard to share. I feel like so much of what’s happening in my life right now is so central to others, and I don’t want to violate their privacy.

But I miss you, y’all.

So I’ll tell you what I can. My wonderful mother in law has two more rounds of chemo, and her ovarian cancer treatment will be complete. You have never,  ever seen anyone fight for their life like this. Or maybe you have-and if you have, I commend you, because it’s really freaking hard to watch. She’s lost a lot of weight, and hair. But she hasn’t lost anything else. She always had my love and respect, but I can’t begin to tell you how our understanding of each other has changed. There are some things that I think only women can understand and share, no matter how wonderful the men in your life are. And I’m grateful to have shared this time with her.

My mom will have a mastectomy in 7 days. Just on one side, no chemo, no radiation. Sounds sooo easy, doesn’t it? Not. She’s had two lumpectomies so far, and this, pray God, will be her last surgery for this cancer. Or any cancer. Although my mother in lay is a breast cancer survivor- 15 years ago. Heads up: if you’re diagnosed with certain forms of breast cancer, you’re FOUR TIMES more likely to get some form of gynecological cancer, ovarian or uterine. Think about that. That would have been good for somebody to tell us earlier, huh?

I know I sound bitter. I’m just blindsided. In August, we all went on vacation together. My parents, my in-laws, the kids and I. We went to Massanutten, and we did the water park, and we cooked together, and I revelled in being with the people that love us the most. And you know how you have those moments, but you don’t know that it will be the last one like that before everything changes? My mother in law had her clots in her leg, but we didn’t know they were caused by a mass in her pelvis. We didn’t know that less than two weeks later, she would be fighting blood clots in her lungs and diagnosed with stage 3 cancer. The shadow of cancer was over our heads, because my mom had a wonky mammogram. So we had the biopsy on the brain. But we didn’t know that it would be malignant, and that very, very soon the vernacular of our family would change. To reconstruction. To platelets. To red blood cells. To a very real, very vital fight, that I’m so honored to try to support them in.

I’m not going to sit here and tell you to cherish every moment. You know that. And I’m learning it. And I’ll keep trying to find that balance. One day, we’ll have a more lighthearted kind of joy back. Right now, it’s a fierce, clinging kind. And I’ll confess, I cherish it. While I don’t love the cancer, I know we’ve been lucky in it. I know that my girls will be OK. And I know how fortunate I am to have them, and that I would do anything for them.