Seeing this Now

Now that we're less than a year from the end of Eliot's treatment I have a different perspective on things.

Now I can let the terror of all of this sink in. Just a little bit more.

Tonight while driving home I had this huge realization that I've believed it is my job as a mom to protect my kids.

Not hover over them and attend to every potential scrape and bug-bite.

Protect.

Keep safe.

Determine what kind of things they're exposed to and what not.

That kind of protect.

The horror of the fact that leukemia got past me. Got in. Got all of us on my watch hit me.

My powerlessness in the face of this.

My horror that it is here. Got Eliot and got Naomi.

Got us.

That hit me.

How could I let it in.

I couldn't keep it away.

Like the big strong hands of the rock guy in The Never Ending Story. I couldn't hold them. Couldn't keep it out.

Never could have.

Never. Ever. Could have.

++++

note: I realize there is more to this story. That I have protected them from so many things. The things I could protect them from. The things I could control. That of course I was powerless with that and have been powerful with so many other things.

I get that.

And I get that this got through. It did. And that is just a fact.

The Birds and The Bees

Last night Naomi asked me where I got her.

I told her I was confused...where did I get you?

Yes Mama. She said.

Where did you get me?

I told her I didn't understand her question.

Did you get me from Target Mama? She asked.

I smiled and giggled a little.

Nope. Naomi. Not Target.

I got you from God and from a miracle. You are magic.

She accepted that answer.

Later I realized I think she was asking about the birds and the bees and I missed it.

I usually say things about how she grew in my belly when she was a baby and all that jazz.

I'm sure we'll weather the birds and the bees conversations as well as any mom and daughter. I want to be honest with her and I'm sure I will.

What I want to tell her (and not because I want to avoid the details) is that I got her from dreams and dew on the grass in the morning, from the sounds of birds singing and warm afternoons with a good breeze, that she comes from moose prints and the night sky full of stars I can't chart, from the crunchy sound of snow, the oozy feeling of mud between my toes, from wild flowers and wild horses and from fairies and tears and jack rabbits that run all criss-crossed and stones rubbed smooth by water and wind and the smell of sheets that dried outside and strawberry jam and the relief of aloe on a sunburn.

From all of those things.

And from so many others.

quotes from Eliot today

Coming down stairs to watch tv (can't see it, can only hear it)

Walking as quickly as possible down the steps

"Oh Barak Obama tv is on. It's my favorite kind of tv"

+++++

Mama. (there always seems to be a period after Mama)

Do you think the plane could leave a little early so we could have our daddy back?

Extraordinary things about today - In no particular order

I turned the heat off for a few hours.

I had some of our windows open for a few hours.

I said the following sentence: "Naomi do not put the plumb in your vagina and then in your mouth."

Naomi then said: "But I just washed it."

And I said: "I know you washed your vagina Naomi but I still don't want you to put that plumb in your mouth after it has been in your vagina."

Note -vagina is sort of a general term that refers to the 'area' in our house - but STILL.

On a completely different note.

Eliot looked at a newpaper article today and said, wide eyed: "Look Mama, Barak Obama's feet."

He is so fond of Barak Obama that he called him Barak Obami the other day and now he recognizes his feet.

Will You Check on me When I Sleep

I was really strict about bed-time when Eliot was an infant.

I was medium strict about it when Naomi was an infant.

I believed that strict infancy bed-times led to strict toddler bed times and good sleepers in general.

Sleep is a big deal to me.

Many good nights of sleep are what I believe allowed me to get through college and grad-school with great grades and tons of hours of work and a very amateur athletic 'career' (I'll call it). I had a strict bed-time for myself when most of my friends were out partying. Yes. Major nerd.

Sleep. Glorious sleep.

I'm not a sleep-er-in-er. Just a person happiest on a good nights sleep that was preceded by about a life time of good nights of sleep.

Lately the kids ask me to sit in their rooms while they fall asleep.

This is not the model of strictness I once imagined or applied.

Tonight when I had sat in the chair long enough to go almost batty and Eliot still wasn't sleeping I told him I was going to go and that I'd check on him later.

He smiled. Will you come look at me when I'm sleeping?

Yes. I said.

Will daddy come too?

Yes. I said.

The other morning I shared with the kids what they looked like when they were sleeping.

Naomi, her arms out wide, soul open to the world, completely vulnerable.

Eliot, his arms curled close, belly down, head in the pillow.

They giggled when I told them this.

And tonight Eliot betrayed himself, a little boy, glad to be checked on. Glad to be watched.

And me, glad to be there. Glad to see.

Aron Made this Great Movie

Just a normal day less than a year before treatment ends.

March Fo(u)rth

One year from today the party begins.

Here is how I imagine it.

We'll all go to Eliot's clinic apointment. He will be port-free. He'll get a finger poke and a quick look over. We'll bring presents to everyone. We might even go visit 5B and the emergency room.

We'll all go our for breakfast or lunch or something and have a fun day.

It will be March Fourth - it will be Eliot's first chemo-free appointment. It will be day 1 of the March Fo(u)rth extravaganza.

He'll go all day without taking sterroids - that night for the 4th night in a row he'll go t be without taking chemo. If he wants to drink milk and eat 7 oranges before bed he can - because it won't mess with his meds. Maybe with his stomach - but not his meds.

Friday we'll have a special dinner with family and perhaps welcome out of down guests.

Saturday we'll woop it up with volunteering and something fun at a firestation or something. We'll invite everyone.

Sunday we'll celebrate with a blessing as we all March Forth.

Family, friends, fun, lots of thank you's by us to others.

Just the thought of this makes me feel light and hopeful.

March Fo(u)th!

The best name for a day of the year.

12 months left

1 year from yesterday (March 1, 2010) Eliot's treatment ends.

Yesterday marked that day and I broke down in tears multiple times during the day. 1 year. Just 1 year left.

Gosh darn it. Just writing about it makes me cry some more.

I'm not sure why it makes me cry. Maybe this is how I actually take in the horror of the past few years. Maybe it is because I'm jubilant about this. I'm pretty sure I've never used the word jubilant before...it is what I am. Jubilant.

Just 1 more year and then Eliot will be chemo-free. Dentist appointments won't be preceded by anti-biotics in the form of a horse pill. We can go places without lugging chemo, a thermometer, antibiotics, tagaderm and 'mayonnaise'.

He'll receive his final doses of chemo in his port next year on February 4th and they'll take his post out soon after that. He'll still have to take antibiotics for 3 months afterward. But big deal! No more chemo.

Just 1 more year of fever = emergency room.

1 more year of poisoning the hell out of my kid to make sure he lives.

Part of the joy of all of this is that yesterday passed without much fan fare. Other than the 17 gallons of tears I've shed. Eliot played with Naomi, refused to take a nap, ran around in his underwear for most of the day, played with legos and his transformers, did yoga with the babysitter and slept in Naomi's bed while she slept in the guest bedroom - for no big reason.

It was just a day in his 4 1/2 year old life.

This morning I told him he was tall and he wanted to know if he looked like he was 5.

Those are the things on his mind these days.

No marking of time, future events, past fears or suffering.

Just.

Today.

Right now.