It's been a couple weeks of firsts and lasts around our household. I've been very emotional. The first of the firsts was our oldest boy Bobby loosing a tooth. It wasn't as dramatic a thing as I remember tooth removal being when I was loosing them. He was eating breakfast one day and his loose tooth just fell out. This being a Sunday morning, Bobby requested to take the thing to church. So, mother that I am, I found a tiny zip lock baggie type thing (the size that used to hold a spare button for a shirt), punched a hole, tied a string and he proudly wore that tooth around his neck all morning. He was sure to put it under his pillow that night in hopes of the tooth fairy bringing him "a coin" in exchange for his tooth. I thank Jake and the Neverland Pirates for setting the expectations low by suggesting that the tooth fairy brings "a coin" for a tooth. Bobby did however receive a dollar bill AND a coin (quarter) from the tooth fairy for his first tooth. That first tooth was followed by a second tooth not more than two weeks later.
Which brings us to another first, kindergarten. I find it difficult to fathom the passing of time which has brought us from returning home from the hospital with a tiny, helpless baby to then dropping said baby off at a building miles from home for multiple hours in a day with people we have barely met. And all of this apparently "normal". I can't express how nervous and sad I was leading up to that day. My son on the other hand has been looking forward to his first day of school for months, possibly longer. We drove him to his first day of school and I was able to walk him to his classroom. He was cool as a cucumber. Once inside he behaved as if he knew exactly what he was doing and was eager to do it. I shed a few tears as I left him there that day. Those tears were for me, not for him. He has enjoyed each day of school more than the last. I'm so thankful he likes it.
The same week we took our oldest son to kindergarten was the week that our youngest son, William, turned two. Just a day or two before his birthday I entered my bedroom and took inventory of a stack of baby carriers and books stacked there (waiting to go to another family by way of eBay or baby-wearer's Facebook page) and saw in that pile the baby book I had bought for William before he was born. The wrapper removed, no entries made. I have a million or more pictures of the boy but have yet to write in his baby book. (All milestones are documented on the kitchen calendar from last year and this). So we officially said good-bye to the baby stage. This guy is a little boy, but for the diapers and bedtime miney (pronounced mine-e, what the twins called their pacifiers and the name stuck). Our last baby, growing up so fast. He does his darnedest to keep up with his three older brothers. He does a pretty good job of it too. Counting, reciting ABC's, learning bedtime prayers, singing songs, playing games and navigating tech (iPhones, iPads, etc.) like he was born with it in his hands. It wasn't long ago I was tucking him into his little carrier at the park, feeding him from my own body, watching him learn to roll over, sit up, pull up, stand. Again, the passage of time confuses me. Looking back at pictures of this child as a baby leaves me in awe and wonder: was that a hundred years ago, or just yesterday?
And as I contemplate these firsts and lasts, I consider the firsts and lasts I am experiencing with this body of mine. Though my PET scan and breast MRI showed that I am clear of cancer at this time, my genetic risk factors are so high that a bilateral mastectomy will be done a week from Monday. Preparing for the surgery has been an interesting process thus far. Really I feel like I've been preparing for it since I found out I had cancer back in February. I've been gathering my facts, talking to people, reading, etc. But I've also been going through a phase that looks a lot like the nesting phase in pregnancy. I'm making sure everything is just so because once the surgery is done it will be weeks, almost months, before I'll be back to full capabilities. I'm trying to grasp what will be happening to my body in the course of this surgery next week. It's quite an emotional thing. At the very least because I've taken for granted the idea that when my soul leaves this body, this body will still have all it's original parts. In 1991 when going in for surgery to remove the tumor in my left femur, not knowing whether or not I would come out of the procedure with a leg or not, I never considered actually losing the leg. I assumed, or perhaps I was unable to think otherwise, that I would come out with my leg in tact. And I did. But now, with breast cancer and in this upcoming surgery, the doctors will remove, parts will not be spared. In my mind I have made peace with the fact that this is for the best. I sense it's the right move to make. However, I'm also acutely aware that I am spending the last days with all my original body parts. I am blessed beyond belief that there are surgeons (artists, really) who can remove what was diseased or holds potential threat and replace it with form and shape that once healed, will restore a sense of balance and normality to this body. After September 14th I will never be the same again. I'm not the same person I was yesterday for that matter. Last days are being celebrated and mourned here, but there is also an expectancy, a hope, of firsts yet to come.
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