Last day of 2nd grade

Another school year over, today was the last day of 2nd grade and the last day of Z. being an 8 year old and she got braces yesterday. How much more can I take? It seems like she's doing a year's worth of growing in 2 days. Well, not really of course, but it does seem like a lot of growing up milestones all smushed together. She of course is blissfully unaware of all the growing up meaning to these things. For her it's all about the excitement of school being over (I actually heard her singing "no more teachers, nor more books" in the living room this afternoon) and her birthday party, cake and presents tomorrow. And the annoyance of those "stupid" braces which are rubbing the insides of her cheeks raw. I've been pretty liberal with the ice cream and popsicles so that's helped a lot.

This has been a good school year for her. 1st grade was rough, mainly because of my cancer treatments, but also the transitioning from Kindergarten. I had my surgery a couple weeks before school started, then a few weeks later went into radiation for about 6 or 7 weeks. I took a break (my decision, not my drs., but they said it was okay) between Thanksgiving and Xmas and started chemo a couple days later. That continued through mid-April. I took off my hiphat wig (which I wore mainly for her sake) during the first heatwave in June. While she wasn't thrilled with my extremely short hair, it was the marking of things going back to normal for her. She spent much of 1st grade being angry, mostly at me, but also at anyone who dared to cross her path with even the slightest bit of what she perceived as negative talk or vibe. This meant she yelled at not only A. and I but her teachers, her grandparents, her friend's parents, and her friends. She spent a lot of time getting "minutes" in school (like a time-out). Her teachers were very patient and understanding, yet firm in their insistence that she be respectful. It's tiring just thinking about last year.

This year was very different. Before school started she told me that she did not want to get her 2nd teacher mad. Her teacher, while in reality a very sweet woman, has the reputation amongst 1st graders as being very strict. And she is in that she lets the kids know exactly what she expects from them. This was perfect for Z. at that point in time, she needed things to be very clear. While I won't say that she never got "minutes" in 2nd grade, it certainly was not very often. She was able to focus on learning, having fun with her friends, and just being a kid. No more kid whose mom has cancer, just a kid. Periodically she'd be reminded of my cancer, things like my ct-scans or drs. appts. A couple of times she would check with me to make sure that I didn't have cancer anymore, but mostly she's closed the door on that chapter of our lives. I really hope that it is a door that stays closed, but I've been through too much to realistically expect that I'll never be dealing with cancer again. I certainly hope that I won't but after having two late stage aggressive cancers I know that my body knows how to do cancer all too well. The thought of her having to deal with it again breaks my heart. I try not to think about it too much.

9 years ago today I was 28 weeks and 6 days pregnant and in the maternity ward of the hospital trying to eat my dinner in the Trendelenberg position (head below my feet, somehow, don't ask me how, I managed to eat soup that way!) to reduce the pressure on my cervix which was being held closed (not very successfully) by one tiny stitch. I was on an IV of magnesium sulfate to try and stop the contractions (mag makes one feel very strange) and lay there in a very dimly lit room trying to sleep. A. was with me but I sent him home sometime after midnight to try and get some sleep in a more comfortable bed than the hard thing they had in there for him. I think I fell asleep about 2am, and at about 4:30am I woke up to wetness, thinking, hmm, either I just peed myself or my water broke. Yup, after the nurses tested it with this special paper they said my water broke. Over 12 hours later at 4:46pm Z. was born. Despite her being 11 weeks early she was born breathing and crying (although she sounded more like a cat than a baby). I got a short moment to hold her after the neonatologists attended to her and before they whisked her off the NICU, her home for the next 8 weeks of her life. I clearly remember the mixed feelings of joy and anguish I felt that day. I never could have imagined her last day of 2nd grade and her 9th birthday. But here we are, we've been through a lot but we're here and we're together.