the C word.
Yes. She does.
Kids are intuitive. They are smart. They know more than we give them credit for. Once the dust settled and once we knew what Mom was facing, we had to make decisions about the kids. About how we would talk to them about Bubbles being sick. My immediate instinct was to shelter. Pretend like they didn't notice my red, swollen eyes and constant tears. 'Mommy are you sick?' 'I'm not sick I just don't feel well.' Keep them little. What they don't know can't hurt them. And that C word. DO NOT UTTER that C word. They know what cancer is. They understand it makes people sick and some people live and some don't. No one say Cancer.
I talk a lot about how I'm not sure I'm grown up enough to handle what we are facing. I, of course, know I am. I know that I'm emotionally and physically equipped to handle almost anything, I just don't want to. Our kids, they aren't. And by sheltering them in my 'Mommyshieldingsuperprotectivebubblewherenothingcanhurtyouorgettoyouever' bubble, I wasn't teaching them anything (a therapist I've been chatting with on occasion to help me cope helped me realize this, no shame in my game). They wouldn't learn coping skills, they wouldn't learn that it's ok to be sad and ok to cry and ok to be angry and ask questions. It's ok to talk about. It's ok.
Christmas Eve was a particularly difficult day for all of us. Mom didn't feel well, the emotions of the holiday were completely overwhelming and we all just felt blue. Down. Emerson asks a lot of questions, she's curious. She's 6 and doesn't understand why belly pain means that Bubbles has to lay on the couch and can't play as much as she used to. At 6 you take a couple of TUMs and go back to bed (because usually your belly doesn't actually hurt you just don't want to go to bed so a couple of TUMs will delay it just a bit). So on Christmas Eve they both asked questions after Bubbles explained that they were moving to Birmingham. They learned that night that Bubbles probably isn't getting better but that she was going to see some very special doctors to help her be more comfortable. Of course they both asked when they were moving back and none of us could answer that. A month ago things were so dark. Not that they aren't still dark but before she had a new doctor and new plan, it was bleak.
Things have sort of leveled out for everyone right now. Mom's cancer marker dropped significantly a result of the chemo and the doctors are hopeful that things are moving in a positive direction (again, this isn't ever going away but if we can keep it at bay and keep mom comfortable that's what we want). My emotions have leveled off as well. But then some days, it hits me. Like a MAC truck. I will have a perfectly normal conversation with her and then lose it all. And when I lose it there are these raw, beautiful moments (on the phone), that I will hang on to and cherish with all that I am for the rest of my life. But some days are hard. Not often, thankfully. One of those days was a couple of weeks ago and I hung up with Mom after one of those raw moments and went upstairs to put the kids to bed. I went upstairs crying. I didn't dry my eyes, I didn't change a thing. I was crying because I was sad. And that's ok. I talked about it with each of them when they asked why I was crying. They both teared up with me. And I explained that 'it's ok to be sad. I'm sad because I talked to Bubbles and it makes me sad that she's not well.' We have to teach them that it's ok to feel things.
A little boy came back to our elementary school right before the holidays after a successful battle with cancer. He's in second grade, like Cannon, and so naturally there were questions about why he had been gone. Just last week in carline Cannon told me he was pretty sure that this little boy had never been to school before so I explained that because he was getting chemotherapy like Bubbles, he couldn't be around other kids because his body wouldn't be able to fight off germs. Shit. My first instinct was to take it back, he's smart. He's going to draw that connection, the connection to the C word. And he did. Immediately. 'Does Bubbles have cancer?'.
A moment of truth. We are trying to foster an honest and open relationship with our kids. Who knows how that will go when they are teenagers but for now, we want them to know that we will always be honest with them and hope they will do the same with us. Yes, she does. And there was a moment of pause for both of them. I added that she's feeling ok right now and the doctors are working hard to help her. And then we moved on. I may have even started a car dance party to help switch gears. I can only take so many hard questions at one time, especially if I'm only half a cup of coffee in.
'Kind and brave kiddos, have a great day!' and as soon as that door closed I called Dan to tell him how what went down. We decided that it was ok, that it was good that neither of them melted down, and it was probably even better that the conversation started with a kid who beat cancer. A positive outcome. So, we did it. We said the C word. Actually... Cannon said it.
Sometimes it seems so much easier to keep them in our perfect bubble. Keep them from feeling any pain or any sadness. But I have to believe that teaching them coping skills, or maybe even more basic things, like feeling your emotions... is going to help these little people when they're big(ger).
Kids are intuitive. They are smart. They know more than we give them credit for. Once the dust settled and once we knew what Mom was facing, we had to make decisions about the kids. About how we would talk to them about Bubbles being sick. My immediate instinct was to shelter. Pretend like they didn't notice my red, swollen eyes and constant tears. 'Mommy are you sick?' 'I'm not sick I just don't feel well.' Keep them little. What they don't know can't hurt them. And that C word. DO NOT UTTER that C word. They know what cancer is. They understand it makes people sick and some people live and some don't. No one say Cancer.
I talk a lot about how I'm not sure I'm grown up enough to handle what we are facing. I, of course, know I am. I know that I'm emotionally and physically equipped to handle almost anything, I just don't want to. Our kids, they aren't. And by sheltering them in my 'Mommyshieldingsuperprotectivebubblewherenothingcanhurtyouorgettoyouever' bubble, I wasn't teaching them anything (a therapist I've been chatting with on occasion to help me cope helped me realize this, no shame in my game). They wouldn't learn coping skills, they wouldn't learn that it's ok to be sad and ok to cry and ok to be angry and ask questions. It's ok to talk about. It's ok.
Christmas Eve was a particularly difficult day for all of us. Mom didn't feel well, the emotions of the holiday were completely overwhelming and we all just felt blue. Down. Emerson asks a lot of questions, she's curious. She's 6 and doesn't understand why belly pain means that Bubbles has to lay on the couch and can't play as much as she used to. At 6 you take a couple of TUMs and go back to bed (because usually your belly doesn't actually hurt you just don't want to go to bed so a couple of TUMs will delay it just a bit). So on Christmas Eve they both asked questions after Bubbles explained that they were moving to Birmingham. They learned that night that Bubbles probably isn't getting better but that she was going to see some very special doctors to help her be more comfortable. Of course they both asked when they were moving back and none of us could answer that. A month ago things were so dark. Not that they aren't still dark but before she had a new doctor and new plan, it was bleak.
Things have sort of leveled out for everyone right now. Mom's cancer marker dropped significantly a result of the chemo and the doctors are hopeful that things are moving in a positive direction (again, this isn't ever going away but if we can keep it at bay and keep mom comfortable that's what we want). My emotions have leveled off as well. But then some days, it hits me. Like a MAC truck. I will have a perfectly normal conversation with her and then lose it all. And when I lose it there are these raw, beautiful moments (on the phone), that I will hang on to and cherish with all that I am for the rest of my life. But some days are hard. Not often, thankfully. One of those days was a couple of weeks ago and I hung up with Mom after one of those raw moments and went upstairs to put the kids to bed. I went upstairs crying. I didn't dry my eyes, I didn't change a thing. I was crying because I was sad. And that's ok. I talked about it with each of them when they asked why I was crying. They both teared up with me. And I explained that 'it's ok to be sad. I'm sad because I talked to Bubbles and it makes me sad that she's not well.' We have to teach them that it's ok to feel things.
A little boy came back to our elementary school right before the holidays after a successful battle with cancer. He's in second grade, like Cannon, and so naturally there were questions about why he had been gone. Just last week in carline Cannon told me he was pretty sure that this little boy had never been to school before so I explained that because he was getting chemotherapy like Bubbles, he couldn't be around other kids because his body wouldn't be able to fight off germs. Shit. My first instinct was to take it back, he's smart. He's going to draw that connection, the connection to the C word. And he did. Immediately. 'Does Bubbles have cancer?'.
A moment of truth. We are trying to foster an honest and open relationship with our kids. Who knows how that will go when they are teenagers but for now, we want them to know that we will always be honest with them and hope they will do the same with us. Yes, she does. And there was a moment of pause for both of them. I added that she's feeling ok right now and the doctors are working hard to help her. And then we moved on. I may have even started a car dance party to help switch gears. I can only take so many hard questions at one time, especially if I'm only half a cup of coffee in.
'Kind and brave kiddos, have a great day!' and as soon as that door closed I called Dan to tell him how what went down. We decided that it was ok, that it was good that neither of them melted down, and it was probably even better that the conversation started with a kid who beat cancer. A positive outcome. So, we did it. We said the C word. Actually... Cannon said it.
Sometimes it seems so much easier to keep them in our perfect bubble. Keep them from feeling any pain or any sadness. But I have to believe that teaching them coping skills, or maybe even more basic things, like feeling your emotions... is going to help these little people when they're big(ger).
Your kids are so blessed to have such a caring and strong mama. You learned from the best :)
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