This expression right here is how I feel about round 4 today. Determined, anxious, tired, and a little irritated, if I’m being completely honest. The last round kicked my 
🍑 and I’ve been a nervous mess all weekend. Although, this marks the halfway point!!!!! And the last of the “red devil” drug combo. Send me your positive universe vibes, I could use them today 
💜 Love and light, always 💜
Sparks of light, in a dark so dark, it resembles the murky depths of the bottom of the ocean.
A gasp of sweet, sweet air at the exact moment where one might think of just letting go.
Water for a plant, wilting under the burden of staying alive in arid conditions.
This is what this treatment feels like. It takes you to places you think you cannot overcome, you cannot survive.
This has been, by far, the hardest round yet. I have been in bed for the better part of the week…unable to do more than an occasional shower, a chat with a friend, or to scroll the internet-resting my phone on a pillow.
But let me tell you this:
Those sparks of light, they remind you of how much you’ve overcome. That gasp of air reminds you of the sweetness of living. And that water, it reminds you of what feeds your soul.
Thank you for being a bit of my light, my air, and my water.
Love and light, always 💜
❣️💜
I have no energy to think or type. I shall leave you with this, though.
The air I breathe is made of hope, allowing the tiniest flicker of light to ignite in the darkness.
Love and light, always
This is me. Raw and real.
This is what post chemo exhaustion looks like. This is me, completely bald, as my hair finally made its way out after a shower the other day.
I have this whole idea of leaning in with grace. Leaning into the discomfort. Leaning into the pain. Leaning into the frustration, the exhaustion, the tears, the loss of my outward identity, the sheer bullshit that this whole thing is.
Leaning in means that you allow those emotions to exist, you live in them and give them their due course.
Grace allows you to recognize them for what they are and accept them. Grace allows you to see the sun shining, to hear the laughter of your babies, to see the love of people jumping in to help or offer support.
Grace allows you to exist beyond the pain, discomfort, and all of the other shit.
Thank God for grace.
Love and light, always 💜
Today is our anniversary. 7 years. 7 beautiful, tragic, amazing, hard, love and life filled years together. We have been through moves, having a preemie, buying a house, parenting decisions, grief, joy, disagreements, birthdays, career changes, personal growth, and all of the other things that come with building a life together.
And here we are, in our biggest challenge yet.
You’ve held my trembling hand in your steady one. You’ve wiped my tears away, your gaze never wavering. You see my beauty when I’m at my worst. You’ve laughed at really inappropriate jokes with me, adding levity to a time weighed down by unspoken fears and sometimes unrelenting sickness.
Through it all, there has been one thing that has been easy.
Loving you.
God has blessed me so, with you.
I’m a mutant! 
I figured, with my new status, I should have some kind of alter ego…this one seems to fit the bill:
Purple hair 
Badass attitude
RBF
Perfect body <in progress>
Perfect rack <coming soon>
In all seriousness, I received a call from my genetic counselor (yes, you get one of those sometimes with this diagnosis). Turns out, we have the answer as to why I developed breast cancer, seemingly out of nowhere with barely any family history.
I have the BRCA2+ and CHEK2+ genetic mutations. You can Google the specifics, if you’d like, but the short of it is that I have an increased lifetime chance of up to 85% of developing breast cancer (of course, the ONE TIME I am like the general population 
) and an increased chance of developing ovarian, colon, pancreatic, and skin cancers.
It’s overwhelming to think, that just by existing, my body is a ticking time bomb…waiting for the moment that proteins combine just right or for a cell to grow or reproduce just slightly off kilter and BAM…
BUT, if you know me…. Fuck that noise.
So, we’re doing the bilateral mastectomy (already decided). I will possibly have my ovaries removed during that surgery (they will be coming out regardless). I will need to have colonoscopies every 3-5 years with yearly GI appointments. I will need to have photo documented dermatology appointments every year.
Because I’ll be damned if I don’t get to see my girls grow up- all the way up.
Because I’ll be damned if I don’t get to love – and torture – M for the rest of ever.
Because I’ll be damned if I have to do this again.
I really like this super hero image I found. I’m imagining the pink fire she has shooting out of her hand as love. ‘Cause #lovealwayswins.
Love and Light, Always
After a disappointing experience at one wig shop (see post here), I am happy to report that I have found a wig! Here are the final choices. Which one is your favorite?
I’ve decided that getting out of the house is 100% necessary. Wig shopping it is!
Hello.
It’s hard to think, it’s hard to type, it’s just all sorts of hard these past few days. Positivity and humor have gotten me through the majority of this experience so far.
I’m going to be real with you, even that’s been hard to come by.
My amazing Momma, in all of her infinite Momma wisdom, said this to me as I was diving deep for something to hold onto:
Oh honey, it’s okay to not find the positivity or humor in this sometimes. All you need is faith. You’re going to get through this. I have faith, everyone around you has faith, you have faith. Faith doesn’t make it suck any less, it just gets you through.
Love and light, always
Feeling like 
, so fluids it is. I might float away at this point.
grace and fbombs 