1 year ago...

I try not to get overly personal very often on this blog. I certainly have my moments, but overall this blog is mainly for the grandma's and friends to keep track of our family and see what the little girls are up to. I don't expect it to be interesting to many people, and that's fine with me. I also really do love the idea of looking back at the little happenings of our lives - most of which I wouldn't remember otherwise. It's fun (and sad) for me to go back to this time last year and see the pictures of Hayden looking like a BABY!

As we were watching General Conference a couple of weekends ago, at one point they were talking about keeping a journal. Obviously that's something I know I should be doing, and I've started multiple times, but struggle to stick with it. I said to Dennis, "Do you think the blog kind of counts as my journal? Can I at least be off the hook for that? The blog is good enough, right?"

He replied, "Well, I guess it's better than nothing (thanks, hon), but it's not like you often say how you're feeling or what your thoughts are on anything. I think that's what's most important about keeping a journal."

Don't worry everyone, I don't plan to spill my guts here on a regular basis, but I do know that one of the personality traits I need to work on is the fact that I don't like to let people in. I don't like to say how I'm feeling, emotionally or physically. I take pride in making everyone think things in my life are great even when they aren't. And if I'm not going to keep a journal (and let's be honest, it's just not happening right now) I can at least, every once in a while, post some honest feelings and emotions right here. For better or worse, this blog is probably the only family history we're going to have. :)

One year ago today, I was lying in bed recovering from a surgery that I'd had two days before. I got a call from my surgeon, in which as kindly as possible, he informed me that based on the testing they'd performed on the tumor that was removed, I was diagnosed with stage 2 thyroid cancer. During that same call he told me I'd need to go back in for another surgery to remove the remainder of my thyroid within a few weeks time. I vividly remember feeling numb and replying, "Okay, thanks for the call!" like he'd called for a nice, casual chat. I didn't ask one question because at that point none of it even felt like a reality. I was honestly more focused on the fact that I still felt horrible from surgery, and now instead of focusing on healing over the next few weeks, I'd be thinking about starting the whole process over again.

What followed was weeks of general panic. It all started to sink in, and while healing from surgery I had way too much time to spend on the internet, reading horror stories of people in similar situations to my own. I had a million questions, a million worries, and no where I really felt I could go. I felt very alone and very, very sad. At that point, I was writing on a private blog, and to go back and read my posts there now still brings me to tears. I was certainly at a low point. I was angry and scared and felt that life as I knew it was over.

As I've been more introspective this week, realizing all of the changes this year has brought, more than anything else I've been struck by the fact that although life is still far from perfect, I'm happy. And I could not have said that a year ago.

Cancer is still a part of my life. More surgery and treatments still loom, but I can face it with more of a sense of calm than I ever could have last year. Whereas last year I was filled with panic knowing that the treatment I am forced to do to get rid of this cancer makes future, more serious cancers more likely, I am now at peace. At least as at peace as I think I can be. It may happen, I pray that it won't. But the lesson I have finally learned this year is that worrying about things I can't change is a waste of precious energy. I am a worrier - I've spent my life thus far quite focused on the "what if's" that follow each and every choice. And I think I have been able to finally let that go. There are things I have to do now that I wish I didn't have to do - but the fact is they have to be done, there are no other options available to me, and I refuse to take a part of myself away from my husband and children to pointlessly worry about things that I can't control.

I appreciate my children more. I appreciate the time I have with them. After essentially losing a summer last year, I look forward to the coming summer (in which I refuse to do any treatments) with a ridiculous amount of anticipation. Little things mean more. Additionally, I realized that ultimately what has been hardest about this illness for me has been the time I've had to spend away from the girls. Even when I've been home and unable to take care of them on my own, I've realized how much I miss things like singing to them before naps or kissing owie's or just being there for the random, hilarious things they say. Ultimately, they are everything good in my life.

I think when truly hard things happen in life, relationships either fall apart or become stronger. I can honestly say that I've never loved Dennis more than I do at this moment. I have watched him change and evolve over this past year - from someone who didn't know how to deal with this challenge any better than any of us would to someone who seems to intuitively know what I need from him. He knows when to let me vent and cry, he knows when to get my mind off of things and make me laugh, and he allows me to feel how I feel in the moment - and then helps me get past it and move on. Often just talking to him is all it takes to calm me down and get my mind back to a more sane place. He's seen me at my worst this year, and still miraculously loves me. I'm beyond blessed to be married to someone who is my very best friend.

Last but not least, I'm grateful to know what this life is really about. Being able to take a trial and know that the struggles we go through are not just pointless hardships, but lessons we need to learn, has been priceless to me. I'm not saying that I've faced this trial with a great deal of grace or resilience, but I can already see, even in the midst of the struggle, that I am being taught some lessons that I probably couldn't have learned any other way.

So on this, the one year anniversary of my diagnosis, I am not in the place health-wise that I'd hoped to be. But the rest of my life is more than making up for it. And that is all thanks to my incredible family, and some truly choice friends.