Mia madre

Today is my mom's birthday. When I was a kid, it seems like she went through a '37' phase--meaning every year she turned 37. Again and again and again. Since that's only two years older than I am right now (yeah, I'm an oldie but goody), I can't really say she's 37 anymore. Sorry, mom. But trust me, she isn't a day past 48. 

In recent years, I've sent flowers to my mom for her birthday. I know my mom has always appreciated the flowers and the gesture; but of course they're gone in a few days, and yet another vase is cluttering her cupboard. I wanted to do something a little more meaningful. 

Rewind to 7 years ago. I was pregnant with Aubrey. My mom had recently been diagnosed with endometrial cancer. I will never forget the day she received the results of her biopsy. I had a doctor's appointment and called my mom from the waiting room. I just had to know. 

The news wasn't good. We had hoped the cancer was only in her uterus, but it had spread. The worst part was that some cells were found in her lymph nodes. I was devastated. I sat in the chair in my doctor's waiting room, asked my mom questions, and sobbed. I think I left the office that day without even seeing my doctor--just rescheduled so I could go be with my mom.

My mom took her treatments like a champion, and I'm happy to say that she is a survivor. She had several weeks of radiation treatment, including one internal radiation procedure hours before Aubrey was born. She was literally 'radioactive' and had certain restrictions about being around babies, but fortunately she was cleared before my daughter entered the world.

Gavin and I called my parents on the way to the hospital when my water broke. We were living in Utah at the time. My dad answered, was business as usual, and said to keep him posted. Apparently when he hung up the phone, my mom asked who it was. Dad answered nonchalantly, "Sarah. She's on her way to the hospital. Her water just broke." 

I can only imagine the flurry of activity that took place then, because mom arrived at the hospital not much after we did. Remember--she was recently discharged herself from the same hospital for her radiation procedure. 

She was tired, she was in pain, yet she was THERE. All night. Smiling and watching and waiting. There for me when I needed her.

Aubrey was born at 6:18 a.m. the next morning. My mom probably hadn't slept in 48 hours. That's just the kind of woman she is. I call her Mother Theresa. If we were Catholic, she'd definitely be nominated for Sainthood.

In the following weeks, my mom started chemotherapy. I think she had a total of six treatments, three weeks apart. I never heard a single complaint from her. She did what she had to do, and she made it!

So mom, instead of flowers this year, I made a donation in your name to the Huntsman Cancer Institute. 

Thank you for your example of strength and taking care of what matters most in life. I love you. Happy Birthday!