Yesterday I had my six month scan.
Before I continue; everything looked great, thank god. No evidence of disease; (& I’ll get to more on that later).
However, this time around, my anxiety was completely out of control, (see fingernails for proof :/ they’re a disaster).
I’m almost ten years out from my diagnosis, and yet that scan anxiety has only gotten worse.
As each day inched closer to Friday, my emotions heightened; I could have cried about spilt milk, (actually, I think I did), and sleep was not coming easy. Thursday night, Lou had a tough time – wanted Tony or I to either stay with her in her bed or wanted to sleep in our bed , until about midnight – so I was a walking zombie.
Friday morning, on the drive to Rochester, I felt numb*.
*I know this feeling well. It’s my ‘scan defense’. She hasn’t been around the past couple times, but she was here, loud, and making her presence known. She was making sure my guards were up and I was ready for any negative outcome. My scheduled consultation with Dr. Robinson wasn’t on the calendar until Tuesday of next week, another reason why my scan defense was on high alert. I was prepping myself for a long weekend of ‘the unknown’.
No matter the attempts from Tony and I, we couldn’t get the consultation on the same day as my scan, (that’s usually the norm), so both of us were feeling all the feels when my results posted online only an hour after my scan had ended.
After reading through the report with Tony multiple times to be sure I was reading it correctly, I let relief do her thing. Tears fell from my eyes and I filled my lungs with big, content breaths of air.
Laying in bed last night, I was working through the many emotions this scan brought and I came to a couple realizations.
- Scan anxiety is never going to go away & I need to find ways to help process those feelings so they don’t continue to eat me alive when the dates inch closer.
2. Being a mother is going to continue to add new, unknown layers to my life, and I have to also be more ready to meet those layers head on.
Meaning…
I fear all the things I now have to lose.
Of course I was terrified before having children, but having the two little loves in my life has now added layers of blissfulness, warmth, and love I never had to sift through previously.
Their layers have added beautiful baby giggles, living room dance parties; simple, precious memories that I NEVER want to miss.
So now, I have this fear of those layers being taken from me.
After years of not having them intertwined in my everyday, now, I would be completely lost without them.
And those are things I need to work through, by finding new outlets and letting myself feel all the things. As much as I want to put this chapter behind me, it’s still very much a part of my story, and I’ve learned it will take time to really appreciate how it adds to my pages.
My current POV: my babies are sound asleep, Ace is laying across my legs on the deck, with the sun on my face, a breeze floating through the willow tree, and a slow roll of waves hitting our beach. & I’m f*cking cancer free.
Life is wonderful.
Thanks for being here, pumpkins.
