On this day back in 2017, it was about three weeks before my daughter was born. It was my third pregnancy in two years; the first two ending in devastating loss. My anxiety was off the charts, and the slow passage of time every day felt impossible.
To manage the days, I made lists. Everything I needed to do, whether it was related to the baby's arrival or not. The lists became a countdown: every time I crossed something off, I was one step closer to the delivery date.
The outcome felt unknowable, even though all signs pointed to "healthy baby." I couldn't believe it — not until I heard that baby cry in the delivery room after my c-section.
I'm going through a similar experience ahead of surgery to remove my brain tumor. I've made lists. I've tried to plan as best I can. The difference is what happens after The Day. If my daughter were born healthy, I would know what taking care of a baby was like (I have two older kids).
But the outcome of surgery is a big question mark. I'll be alive, yes. I'm expected to fully recover... eventually. But the length of recovery time, and the potential impacts of surgery, are unknown.
I've always processed my feelings through writing. I wrote constantly from the time my daughter, Nelle, was stillborn in 2015 until my living daughter was born. A few people read my blog, but mostly friends and family who clicked on the link I shared on Facebook.
This time, it's different. I have an audience across my publications and social media. Is it an enormous audience? No. But I'm mindful that a lot more people are following this Brain Tumor Journey than followed my writing about pregnancy loss.
I had a choice. I could have stopped writing publicly. Or I could continue writing as I always have. I chose the latter. I write primarily for myself, but also so that other people going through something similar feel less alone.
There's nothing I can do to change the outcome of this surgery. Everything is in the surgeon's very capable hands. I trust that he will remove as much of the tumor as safely possible, and the rest will be treated after the fact (like with radiation).
I don't exactly know when I'll be back to writing this publication. The normal surgery recovery time is 4-6 weeks, but the surgeon warned that mine might be longer. But will that recovery prevent me from writing? I'm not sure.
Since I now have such a large network, I was able to lean on some people I know for help. I was able to pre-write some content and supplement it with guest posts written by other people.
But, truly, I want to get back to writing myself. Three things are on my mind. 1) What will the outcome of surgery be? 2) What will the impact be on my family (especially my kids)? 3) When can I start writing again?
"The rest is still unwritten," as Natasha Bedingfield once sang.
I’ll be writing more about my Brain Tumor Journey in my personal blog. If you’d like to support my recovery, I have a GoFundMe or you can buy me a coffee.
You can also subscribe to support this publication as I continue to write during my Brain Tumor Recovery.
To be writing amidst chaos and troubles is like a defiant act worthy of genuine appreciation and love 🧡