Owning Well

Summer is entering an easy rhythm.   Our days aren't filled; Greta has a morning camp until noon for two weeks, and Finn does a little golf lesson one morning per week.

That's it.

When I was sick during the winter, I dreamed of long, lazy summer days where I could wallow in my kids, so I didn't over-stuff our schedule.  I wanted the time to piece each day together like a slow, lazy puzzle.

Now those days are here, and while it takes some getting used to, it's such a gift to be with them so much.

Yesterday, Finn scrunched up his nose at me and asked, "Momma?  Do we not have the babysitter every day anymore because you're bettah?"

I felt a cold stone in my stomach as I answered, "Yes, hon. It's because I'm all better now."

He grinned and ran off to play, while I placed a hand over my belly and thought about the cold feeling there.

I need to own being well, I thought.

I don't know why that's difficult, though I'm told it's normal.  I'm learning through therapy and talking to other survivors that it takes time - sometimes a lot of it - to trust the diagnosis of cancer-free. Something about saying it out loud to my children is extra hard - I don't want to promise something that might not be true - but I know that's my fear talking.

Physically, I'm feeling stronger every day. I got the feeding tube out yesterday, and that went a long way towards making me feel like a well person instead of a sick one.

I'm learning to turn the fear around, flip it over to its counterpart: gratitude.  I'm learning to put distance between the thought in my head and my reality: I'm so very lucky. So very blessed.

As we slide into the hot summer days of July - full of beach and friends and fun -  I want to be fully present for the wonderful. For what I longed for during the dark winter of sickness and pain.

I'm okay today.  I'm here now. And it's good.