.april showers.

Yesterday was a strange day in what has been a strange week in what has been a strange year. We had about a 70 degree yesterday, a little warm for our area, but not unheard of. In the afternoon and evening we had terrible thunderstorms, and then, suddenly, we had deafening hail. Immediately after the hail, a tornado was spotted in the next town over and I was shuttled into a locked backroom at my favorite coffee spot. I sort of expected a rain of frogs after all of that weather business. Sheesh.

But it does metaphorize the week that I’m having. It’s proving to be a study in opposites. In the good news column is the fact that I’m done with my Master’s Degree. I don’t actually graduate until this Saturday, but I turned in my last writing project today, so I am out from under the albatross that is this semester. Though things have been very difficult this year, this week marks the culmination of what has been a very enjoyable three-year graduate program. I’m grateful to R and to all of the faculty, family, friends, and mentors who have made this a safe and expansive period in my life to grow as a scholar. It’s been well worth the time (even if I am now unemployed).

The very difficult news this week is that my mom has just been diagnosed with breast cancer. This is a big pill to swallow, for all of us. My mom lives out-of-state, so we’re planning on traveling south sometime next week for the surgery. We don’t have a lot of specifics yet (she’s waiting on additional pathology, as well as an MRI tomorrow morning), so we’re in a holding pattern until they are able to schedule the surgery and assess the stage of the cancer. I feel awful and helpless being so far away (and, you know, not having any medical expertise). I am grateful that she has good health insurance and a highly specialized team of doctors to work with in her city. And I’m grateful that R and I have the flexibility to be of help to her in the coming weeks and months. I know that she’s feeling scared, and I just wish that I could know how this will all turn out. I do trust that she’ll be fine, that this is a “fixable” diagnosis, but I hate being in this liminal space. Our family continues to welcome thoughts and prayers as we walk through this new chapter.

2011 certainly has offered no shortage of difficult news to have to digest, process, and learn to live with. It would be lovely if the Universe saw fit to give us some good news soon, but I know that’s not how this whole life thing works. In the world of TTC, and in addition to graduation this weekend, we are also anticipating inseminating (Cycle 3) over the weekend. In the interest of time and money, we’ll just be doing one (hopefully) well-timed IUI this month. We’ll keep you posted…


8 thoughts on “.april showers.

  1. if I could, I would deliver you both a huge basket of good news, good food, good thoughts, hope, happiness, bright flowers, and sundry other happy and joyful things. I continue to keep you both in my thoughts and will add your mom as well.

  2. Oh, J. I’m so sorry to hear about your Mom’s news. I’ve been through this twice with my own Mom, and I hope you don’t hesitate to call me any time. I’d be happy to listen, commiserate, or help any way I can. Hugs to you and R and your Mom. I’m consoled by that fact that, if she helped to produce you, you share a similar fierce spirit; there is no way that a woman so close to you is not also tough as absolute nails. * Hugs*

  3. Thanks for the kind comments, folks. We’re just trying to stay proactive and positive, but it’s certainly helpful to have a strong support network in place. I love that the blog lets us expand that network far and wide. Best, J.

  4. Oh no. No, no, no. I echo Erica’s wish to deliver you some very, very different news. And I congratulate you *again* on persevering and completing your degree during this most difficult semester.

    I’ll be thinking of you and your mom. Keep us posted and please let her know she’s got this additional community of friends all pulling for her.

  5. First, I’m so sorry about your mom. I will be praying for her health and for your strength and courage.

    Second, huge congrats on your degree. You’ve accomplished so much, professionally and personally. You are an amazing teacher, student, and friend. Bravo!

  6. Four years ago my mom was diagnosed, out of the blue, with ovarian cancer. It was the roughest time I had ever known, emotionally, up to that point. I couldn’t bear the thoughts of seeing my mom go through surgery and chemo and pain and worry. But she did – and I was able to help it suck a little less for her. And she came out on the other side, better than ever. In fact, now things are so normal that I often forget it ever even happened. Here’s hoping that you can tell a similar story in a couple years. Hugs.

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