Happy

Today I married my best friend. I picked a dress to show off my new cleavage post bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction. The best part - no bra required! My implants are shaped silicones, and I didn't love them at first. No matter where you are on this roller-coaster of a journey, trust me - I believe it can be a blessing in disguise. And, it gets better. One day you'll get to a place where normal returns and you see the experience in your rear-view mirror.

Hello, March!

I can't believe March is here. It's been a hectic 2016. It doesn't seem possible that we're three months into the year. It's starting to warm up in Arkansas. Beautiful flowers are blooming. Delicate green leaves are appearing on the trees. And I get married in just a few short weeks. MARRIED!

After nearly 13 years of single life filled with being alone at times, dating and being independent and self-reliant, I'm starting a new chapter. Really, it's a continuation of an 8-year commitment - I met the man I get to marry back in 2008 - but there's something about marriage that is special. Right?

Today I brushed the dust off my blog and gave it a makeover because in just a few short days I will change my name. I've looked forward to getting a proverbial giant can of spray paint and violently covering every sign of the last name I have used for the past 15 years, but now that the day is almost here I am a little hesitant. I kept this name after divorce because it's not my ex's last name. It's my son's last name. And part of me doesn't want to change that. 

We've talked about the name change around here for a while now. Just when I start to get excited about signing a new name, I feel sad. I don't want my son to be different from me. And he doesn't either. I can't even believe something I've looked forward to for so long has become this hard to do. 

I still have a few more days to get this straight in my head and heart. And I have a million things to get done before the big day. Maybe I should buy a can of spray paint and see if that helps. :)

How do I tell my children?

How do you break scary news to your child? The answer is as unique as the individual who's struggling with the answer. I'm not an expert, but I am a mom, and I take my responsibility to protect my child extremely seriously.

Today I want to talk to you about how I chose to break the news of my medical treatment to my son. I'll also walk you through some of the things I think you should consider as you decide what's right for you and your family. Again - not from a place of educational expertise - but from my own experience.

First off, YOU decide what is right for your family. You and you alone. You'll hear this many times as you're going through treatment for DCIS, but almost everything about this is a highly personal decision dependent upon many unique factors. You get to decide what's right here too.

Here is what was right for me.

I told my 12-year-old son about my DCIS and treatment right before I went to the hospital for an overnight stay with my mastectomy. I made it through the initial scare, the mammogram, the doctor appointments, the lumpectomy surgery and the wait for the surgery date to roll around, before he even knew what was happening. I felt it was just too much for him to bear, for those first few months. I simply didn't want him to worry.

When I went in for the lumpectomy we were able to drop him off at school and go straight to the outpatient surgery center for my surgery. I told him I was going to the doctor. When he got home from school that day, I was at home sitting in the recliner - as I usually am - and he had no idea that I had surgery that day. I told him I didn't go to work that day. No big deal at all.

I dealt with some super heavy days before my son even knew what was going on. For me, it was important not to disrupt his routine or his feelings until I had the facts. I was worrying non-stop, and I didn't want to put that burden on my child. School was in session at the time, and I couldn't see any good reason to tell him right away. So, I waited.

I knew I'd have to have help from family members when I was at the hospital for my mastectomy, and so I knew it was the right time to talk with him about it. The conversation went extremely well. He was in his room and I talked with him. I told him that I had seen my doctor and had some tests done, and that my doctor had suggested surgery because some of my results showed that I needed it. He followed me, so far.

I asked him if he knew what cancer is, and he said he did. He had learned that it's when cells in our bodies are defective and grow into something bad. I asked him if he knew what the pink ribbons stood for related to cancer, and he did - breast cancer. I also asked him if he had ever had any friends whose moms had breast cancer before. Again, he did. We talked about them. I told him that is what I would be having surgery for, and that my doctors were going to take care of me. We talked a little about the surgery and how I'd be spending one night in the hospital to make sure I was OK after the surgery. He was totally fine with the plan of staying with a family member. He did ask if he could go to the surgery too instead of school, and I told him that I was only allowed to bring one adult to drive me home, and that I didn't want him to miss school. He was OK with it after we talked it through. I could tell he was worried about me, but the words I used weren't too scary or overwhelming. And I truly felt confident that my decisions and my doctors' recommendations were the right steps for me. I also told him that I'd be staying home from work for a few weeks after my surgery to recover. Some of my recovery was during the summer and he was glad that I would be home.

My son came to visit me in the hospital the next day after my surgery. He brought me a teddy bear, a balloon and red roses. I was so happy when he walked in with those that day. I am sure I looked a bit scary with a hospital gown, drain tubes, pain pumps and IV. I didn't show him the bandages or anything like that, but I did show him the binder I was wearing. He was curious about it all, but he didn't seem to be freaked out. I put on my best face and attitude while he was there. And I told him I should be able to come home the next day. Luckily, I was able to.

He was very helpful throughout my recovery. Also quite protective and wanted to know when I'd be seeing the doctors. I had two follow-up surgeries after my mastectomy, and I told him about those. I tried to use what I was going through as educational opportunities. Doctors help us. I counted my needle sticks throughout - I think I was at 17 when it came time for his next round of immunizations - and I told him what I did when I'd get an IV or injection of saline. It was good to relate my experience to his.

I'm really pleased with the way we discussed things at my house. I know that this isn't a one-size-fits-all approach, but I hope my experience can help guide you as you figure out what is right for you. :)