October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month

Warning, this post is pretty jumbled. I have about five different things I want to get out of my head, and I am not sure that they really connect or have any real point at the end of it all.

Since I was in college, I’ve always had a soft spot for breast cancer awareness, most likely because the cause is heavily promoted to women and, well, because I myself have breasts. I would spend the extra money to buy the pink ribbon stamps, donate my $15.00 contribution each year to some random foundation, and generally just support the cause through awareness. However, breast cancer never actually touched me in any way.

When I moved to the Midwest I made a dear friend about 25 years my senior. She was going through her second round of chemo for breast cancer. In the course of our subsequent 5 year friendship (in the same city), I watched her struggled through chemo, radiation, a period of wonderful health, and a relapse. I saw both the physical and emotional highs and lows. I did Breast Cancer Awareness walks with her and even organized and ran a huge sponsorship with the Komen Foundation and my company. I dyed her hair when it started coming back in, soft and completely white. I helped her shop for a new bra. This, I thought, was why I had always felt compelled to support this cause. For her.

One morning this last April I got a very odd voice mail from my mom in the wee hours of the morning. My thought was that one of my grandparents had died, so I called her on my way to work, prepared for the worst.

I was not prepared for her to tell me in a very detached, almost blunt manner, that she had found a huge lump in her breast and it was cancerous. The conversation lasted less than 2 minutes and changed my life.

My mom doesn’t read this blog (she doesn’t read much these days, but is addicted to pictures and videos of Little Bug, which has spurred me to become a near-daily family blogger), but some people that know her do read this blog. Anyone who knows my mom knows that she doesn’t like people to “know her business” and fuss or worry or talk about her. She is an intensely private person. I know that people talking about her or her cancer upsets her, so I will respect that and make this post about my feelings; and only say that she has gone through an awful lot these last 6 months, personally, emotionally, and physically. Things that I can’t really sit and think about because it doesn’t seem real, and when it does, I can’t handle it very well.

My mom is alive and kicking, and for that we are all blessed, but that doesn’t change the fact that her life (and by extension the lives of my father and two siblings still in the house, and the rest of us who are now out of the house) has straight up sucked since cancer came to town.

Is this why I felt compelled to support this cause so long ago? For my mother?

There is something people call the “cancer gene” that my sisters and I are supposed to be tested for. My mom rarely shares her feelings about cancer with me, but when she does, it is usually in the context of her fears that my sisters or I will get breast cancer. Honestly, when I drop the whole invincibility thing most people my generation have, it’s probably a legitimate fear. I have PCOS, which increases my risks for cancer. If I end up with breast cancer, there will be a part of me that won’t be surprised.

The worst part of this for my mom, I think ultimately, is her concern for her kids. Her mother died of cancer with a kid still in the house. She knows what it feels like to take time off of school to bury your mother, to raise your own babies without a mother to feel completely comfortable turning to. (My family is luckier than most because my mom’s “stepmom” is truly a mom to her in every way, so she was not left “motherless” for long and her children [i.e., me and my sibs] have grown up with the best grandma a child could ever wish for.)

It gets me thinking, though, about my role as a mother. My life is in so many ways no longer my own. Everything I do, personally, professionally, spiritually, emotionally, etc., impacts Little Bug’s life in the most major ways. His life is shaped by mine. Am I living a best life for myself and in extension, for him? The third Diet Dr. Pepper I just opened today probably says no.

That’s really daunting. (The responsibility to your child, not the lack of DDP, although I would probably consider that daunting as well.)

Is this why I have always supported the cause? Somehow for him?

My mom’s prognosis is very good, and I fully expect her to be hounding me for pictures and videos of Little Bug, Little Bro, and Little Sis for years to come, but her illness has reminded me of how fragile life is, both our own and others. Sadly, this reminder is going to keep on going for some time.

There are no “islands” in a family; we are all connected in the most intimate of ways.