Here We Go

In complete honesty, I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to write this post. I've started it a few times - typed a few words, then deleted it entirely and logged off. I haven't even been reading other blogs lately because they served as a painful reminder that eventually I'd be typing the following words:

Three weeks ago, my mom was diagnosed with stage 3B ovarian cancer.

After 21 days of processing that information, learning as much as possible about the disease, and crying more tears than you would think are humanly possible, I think I'm finally ready to do what I have always done with my problems - write about it.

I'm not going to document the symptoms, surgery, or diagnosis right now. Frankly, it's still too raw, too real and I don't want to relive it anytime soon. Instead, I'll focus on the here and now because, as much as I'd like to pretend otherwise, that's the only thing any of us can control.

My mom, my best friend, confidant, hero, and person, started chemotherapy this morning. This appointment starts a five-month journey of unpleasant treatment that will ultimately make her better.

...and that's exactly what will happen.

She will get better. My mom is the strongest person I know, bar none. She is also the kindest, most thoughtful, and giving person I know. I have absolutely no doubt that, with the support of everyone that loves her (and let's be real - that's everyone that knows her), this will be a story of triumph in a few short months, one that I have no problem writing about because her strength and resilience will be easy to share.

I love you, Mommles and I'm here every step of the way.