There are only a few things that I know are certain. As I sit here now, I have the results to my blood tests and my most recent PET scan and they all agree that the chemo killed my tumor. But, what else did it kill? 2012 was supposed to be the year of life, but instead it is the year of the killing. But, wasn’t it a year of life too? My life was saved, wasn’t it? I was supposed to get pregnant that year, but I got cancer instead.
Little Man is my sun, my moon, my stars. He is the earth, wind, and fire of my life. He holds all of my eggs in his basket. He will carry on my legacy. I know he is destined to do great things and he will make me proud over and over again. He is enough. He is more than enough. This two-foot apple of my eye has exceeded all of my expectations and has shown me a world that I have never known and crave to learn more about. But somehow, I want more.
I’m trying. I’m trying really hard to tame my inner Veruca Salt, I want the world. I want the whole world. I want to lock it all up in my pocket. It’s my bar of chocolate. Give it to me now! No one knows for sure if I can have more. There is no research, there are no studies. There is only time because only time will tell, I’m told. Two years to be exact, which means that the year of the killing will turn into three years of killing and there may be no more life after that. And so, I will wait to worry and while I do, I will love Little Man with reckless abandon. I will stare into his eyes, just like DH’s, I will teach him new words, his soft “r” is just like mine was, and together we will turn these years of the killing into years of living… But, I want more.