My Boys. Learning to navigate this new version of their mom.

I could write an entire book on just my boys. I could actually probably write an entire book just on the past 2 years of what we have all learned about ourselves and our relationships with each other.

Everything forever changed for all 4 of my boys in the past couple years. I have learned a lot about them and from them. I was probably most surprised by my big boys. There is a lot of how they “handled” my cancer that I saw as normal and many things that truly surprised me.

When I was in the hospital the first time, I could not have visitors, so I never noticed who came, or who didn’t come! Ironically, it was easy. I never felt alone, because no one was allowed to come anyway. I could not get offended or hurt because people chose to stay away because I never knew if it was their decision or the hospital’s policy.

When my big boys did come to pick me up the first trip home from the hospital, they were exactly what I would have expected. They were waiting for me at the front of the hospital as the nurse wheeled me out. There they were. All smiles and joy and hugs and so much love. The Queen , my daughter, sat in the back seat with me. Smiling at me with so much fear in her eyes. She handed me a fluffy, pink, circle pillow and gave me a hug.

The bigs had already made a plan and were set to execute it. They drove off, sitting next to each other, taking up all of the front car. They were men now. Acting like they needed to be men for me at that moment. It is like they made an agreement with each other that they would be strong, happy, positive and not allow me to see their fear. They were going to take on the role of strong men, protectors and my positivity police.

Off we went, I was going home. It was just 4 days ago when my sister was taking me to get an MRI because she made me call her doctor for some headaches. Now, remarkably, I drove off with an incision from the middle of my head all the around to my left temple. But, I didn’t have a headache anymore! As the weeks would pass, I would start to realize how my head never didn’t hurt before this. It was a constant headache.

Before we went home, Jacob, my oldest, drove us all to Bosa Donuts. Went through the drive thru and we got a dozen! I devoured my donut. I knew in my head that I had to take the best care I possibly could of my body moving forward, but I don’t know that anything has ever tasted as good as that donut. I did not allow myself treats very often. That day, I felt so damn happy to be alive and in a car with my kids that I just felt like celebrating! I was still alive, and from all the worried faces I saw in that hospital, I was a lucky girl.

We got home and the big boys went to work organizing duties for the little boys. Everyone had a role to play, a task to do. Mathias, my third son, was on food. He was to make sure that I ate, had what I needed for meals, and keep it coming even when I didn’t want to eat. Isaiah, my baby boy, was on laughs. Could not find a better role for that kid. He makes me laugh without even trying. Jacob and Mitchell fell into place and started cleaning. Cleaned out the refrigerator, made sure I had clean sheets, got the boys to clean their stuff up. Made a plan for rides and got all of my pills laid out in containers according to the time I needed to take them.

What I did not know was that while I was being completely taken care of for the past 4 days in the hospital, the people waiting at home were researching what was happening to me. They got on Google and as I gave them report results or notes from my visits from my doctors, they researched. I never did. I never got out my phone and looked to see, what does it mean to have Stage IV Melanoma. How dangerous is melanoma? What are the survival rates for someone with Stage IV Melanoma? What happens if Melanoma spreads to your brain?

But they did. My sons did. My sister did.

I look back at that day, the overly positive big boys and the absolute terror in the eyes of the littles. They knew. Less than 20% of people with my diagnosis live past 5 years after diagnosis.

It was this knowledge that made my oldest lose it. He was over for the second evening in a row. Came over after work as if it was understood he should be there. Very out of character for what was our 'norm". When things were so bad the several months prior, they just didn’t come around much. So, to see them every day, even knowing I just found out I had cancer, was surprising.

On this evening he had so many questions. I really didn’t have answers for him and he got so frustrated, he shouted out, “I just want to know how much time you have left! Do I need to be here every day? Is it weeks, or months! How do we know?”

I know that he was scared that day. I know how it must feel when you read that your mom does not have much, if any, of a chance of living for very long. To read that it is a terminal disease. To look at me, looking a lot just like me, but so much had changed. I was more tired than usual. But I didn’t look like I was dying. How confused and terrified he must have been. I hadn't seen him as confused and terrified until that day. Sadly, all I heard was, “do I have to come every day?”..... Do I have to.

I fell right back into the hurt, pitiful woman that isn’t worthy of anyone's time or inconvenience. I felt like I was losing my big boys for years at this point. I feel like it started when I began dating him, when our whole world changed. I believe that after what I had recently learned, them connecting again with their dad after many, many years, wounds from their young childhood years had surfaced. So, when I heard him use the words “have to”, I wanted to yell, you don’t have to come at all! You should want to!!!!

But I never said anything. I let that fester. Every time they didn’t call, or check in, or ask me if I was ok, I just let the wall I was building around my heart grow taller. I felt that I was a burden and they did not have the time nor the desire to be with me.

I do not honestly know if what I guessed what was happening at that time is real. I guess, they were afraid they were going to lose me and they wanted to short cut the pain and create some space from my very real reality, and their desired reality.

It was like if they just smiled and continued on…business as usual, this would all resolve itself. I guess, just being in our home at that point in time was an awful feeling for both of them. It was the worst living conditions ever. I guess, I need to let go of the pain I felt in his words and love him as a mother would, and comfort a boy that is afraid his mom may die.

In the following weeks, the visits got much less frequent. I started radiation and then it was just me and the littles. I think I saw the big boys once that week, and then the visits became even less frequent.

Life was moving on, mine was imploding.