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You might have some really great ideas about how you think she could do things, and you might have some strong ideas about how children should behave. You're at the mercy of custody agreements, parent-teacher conferences, skinned knees, stuffy noses, and — buy her wine for this one — lice. Throw everything you know about Sunday Funday out the window.
Until the mini people are old enough to get their own cereal and turn on the cartoons, there's no such thing as sleeping in.
The day came and went with no one really remembering other than me. I shared it because not sharing it would have made me feel even more uneasy. I know he has not and will not ever forget either (though he doesn’t remember the exact date) for reasons of his own. Sometimes this process is made to sound too easy and almost normal-like as well. Get more articles from Nancy’s Point in your inbox once a week. Reconstructed breasts may or may not turn out ‘lovely’, but regardless of the outcome, they are still exactly that – reconstructed. Two other things that really struck me as I was thinking about this post were: First of all, after a breast cancer diagnosis things often get rolling really fast and there isn’t time allowed or time taken to grieve for sacrificed body parts.
I can’t forget because the mirror doesn’t allow for that. There is even a certain amount of guilt involved in saying or thinking such a thing. And if a woman chooses not to do reconstruction for whatever reason, she might be looked upon with skepticism by some and perhaps even made to feel she must explain her reasons for making the ‘radical’ choice she made. We do perhaps need and deserve time to grieve for things we lose to illness; things like hair, breasts, ovaries or whatever it might be.
There are a whole host of reasons that don’t allow for either of us to forget. At some point I will write about some of those personal things too, but not yet. It’s important to acknowledge the losses and be allowed to grieve a bit. Secondly, even though this very blog is about breast cancer and loss and undoubtedly I have used the word breasts a gazillion times, I don’t think I’ve ever come right out and said, .
Don’t despair – I have a little secret that is sure to perk you up: men – yes, those creatures who are so often the bane of our very existence, the ones who puzzle us and tear us apart inside, the ones that cause so much grief but always keep us coming back for more – are not all that difficult to understand.
In fact, I think I have an easier time explaining why men do things than I do with women.
(And think for a minute how our partners might perhaps be unfairly scrutinized/criticized if they were to openly admit they missed their loved one’s breasts). They were nothing special as breasts go, but they were mine.