Chapter Two: My Family
My daughters Frankie, Katie, and Alex are just eight, twelve and fourteen, respectively--far too young to lose their mom. Or maybe it's the other way around; I'm too young to lose them. My girls mean the world to me. Being a mom is the first job I’ve had to date that I’ve truly loved.
Since I was 33 when I had my oldest daughter Alex, there were many jobs that preceded motherhood. Some of them were good, some were just okay, and some were downright awful. A few months after I graduated from Albert Lea High School, in Albert Lea, Minnesota, I moved to Minneapolis and got a full time job because I assumed my grades were not good enough to get into college. So I started work in the Operations Department at a bank. The position was fine, and I was mostly happy though a little envious that all of my friends were in college. I personally wanted to be a dancer for my career, not that I had much formal training, but I thought I'd try night classes at the Nancy Hauser School of Dance in Minneapolis. It was difficult to work during the day and go to dance at night so I eventually gave that dream up and worked at the bank. I made the most of it, I worked hard and moved up through the ranks. I've always had the ability to fit in and adjust to almost any situation and be happy doing it. But, I've never had a passion toward a career, until my kids came along.
Some years later, I worked in Denver as the assistant to the Comptroller, at an Oil and Mining company. My boss sexually harassed me day in and day out. If I bent over to file something away, he would tell me he liked that position. He would discuss my body parts and what he would like to do with them in a manner in which I can't repeat. He liked the shape of my backside and would talk about how well we would fit together. Everything had a sexual innuendo, he talked about sex more than work. Because I was a "nice person" I would treat his advances like a joke and politely ask him to knock it off. He told me he wouldn't leave me alone until I got rid of my "Puritan attitude."
This behavior went on for the first three months of my employment, until I couldn't take it anymore and quit. Before I left, I wrote a letter to the President of the company and cc'd the rest of the employees, recapping the torturous nightmare that despicable man put me through. My phone rang off the wall the following day but I didn't answer it so I have no idea whatever happened to the loser.
Unfortunately, I hadn't thought about how I was going to support myself when I quit. I needed to make a decent wage, and I needed to make it quickly so I could pay my bills. So I applied for a job through a temporary employment agency and got a manual labor gig that paid more than Kelley Girls could. I learned I never want to do manual labor ever again. One day I worked in a hospital laundry steaming sheets in 100 degree weather; another week I worked in a factory where I watched a machine make bolts all day. At lunch time many of the workers went out and got high or numbed their brains with a few cold beers. The boss offered me a full time position on my second day of work, but I had bigger plans for my life, thank God! When I finally got my career path back on track I worked my way up through various companies in sales and or management positions and was satisfied with my situations, but nothing is as satisfying as being a mother.
Once I started raising my kids I found a gentle and softer side to life. I didn't have to deal with the negative side of the working world like, office politics, competitive co-workers or being sexually harassed by a boss, which unfortunately happened more than once. It isn’t that being a mother has been total bliss. There have been plenty of bad days. Regardless, I love motherhood, and I love my kids. I am very proud of who they are so far.
My oldest, Alex, a ninth grader when I found out about the liver cancer, is a people pleaser just like her mom. Hopefully she'll get over that because a people pleaser typically doesn't get her own needs met. Still, I'm proud of Alex because she's shown the ability to get through negative situations and grow from them. When she was in the seventh grade, for example, she fell into the wrong crowd and ended up getting in trouble for shielding a girl from onlookers while the girl wrote the word "Bitch" on the seventh grade teacher's car. Not just a teacher. A nun!
What mother could forget the day she was called to the principal's office to find out her daughter had been involved in such a dishonorable act. I walked into the cafeteria all happy and smiling, saying hello to all of Alex's class mates. Her friend's must have known what was up because they all looked at me a little wide eyed. Needless to say my demeanor was much different on the way out of the office, I was angry and the kids knew it. They looked down at the table and not at me as I stormed by.
The principal gave Alex an in-school suspension, and she was also grounded by her father and me. It was the last time she ever got in trouble at school. It was a humiliating experience for all of us. I felt I couldn't show my face at school for awhile. But by the end of the eighth grade, she had done a complete turn around and even had the strength and courage to speak at her eighth grade graduation about her experience. You can follow along with the crowd, she told her classmates, or carve your own path and go the right direction in life. The disappointment and embarrassment I'd felt while sitting in the school office that day the year before was nothing now compared to the pride I felt as I listened to my daughter's words.
My daughter Katie, my middle child, is challenging for me because she knows what she wants and is quite determined to get it, even if it isn't good for her. We started arguing when she was at the ripe old age of two because she already knew what she wanted to wear, whether it was appropriate or not, and she wouldn't take no for an answer. By the time she was in the third grade she thought she was running the house and had the ability to think beyond her years. One morning before school Katie and her sisters were fighting, and I yelled out in frustration "Why do you kids have to make my life so miserable?" Katie's response was, "You know, Mom, a kid's feelings could get hurt real bad by their mom saying that." I was stunned and speechless. How could a little eight year old come up with that? Needless to say, the rest of the day involved a lot of damage control. Katie is a strong kid and I'm proud of her.
My little Frankie is the baby. She's loving and affectionate but also a very determined child. She was four years old when she first saw the Summer Olympics on television. After she watched gymnastics she spent the next four hours working on a back walkover. She did not quit until she could do it. I must admit I am sometimes a bit worried by her persistence, but I'm proud of her because she goes after what she wants no matter what anyone else thinks.

My husband Mike has worked hard to afford me the opportunity to stay at home with my children. We met in June of 1985. Mike was 30 and I was 29. We lived in Chicago, and both worked in the contract furniture industry. Mike hired the company I worked for to do a job for one of his biggest clients. We met at that job and went out on our first date a few weeks later. While we were eating dinner, his gaze lingered on another woman as she strolled past our table, I scolded him for being so rude. I believe my exact words were "That is very rude of you to look at another woman when you are on a date. He immediately apologized. We were engaged within three months and have been fighting happily ever since. When I told my family I was engaged they were shocked because they had not even met him. We were married in August 1986. And our first daughter Alex was born three years later.
Whenever I think about what my illness is doing to my family and how it will affect them if I die, my heart breaks. They will survive of course because I have raised them to be strong, but the thought of leaving them and my husband saddens me. I wonder who will wake them up and tuck them in at night, or who will make them breakfast and dinner? Who will be there to meet them at home after school, help them with their homework and run them to their sports? Will Mike be overwhelmed with the added responsibilities? Will the girls be overburdened with the changes their lives will inevitably make?
I worry too about the rest of my family-- my mom and dad, my siblings and in-laws. Parents should never have to lose a child, and mine have already lost one. My younger brother JB died at 38 while sitting on a bench alone outside of a homeless shelter which he frequented. He had a severe bipolar disorder and was somewhat estranged from our family. His death was a profound burden for my parents to bear. As parents we sometimes feel our children's pain more than they do and take on more responsibility than we should. My father feels my brother's mental problems were somehow his fault. He feels the same way about my cancer. He deals with the stress and guilt by manifesting migraine headaches.
My mother, on the other hand, prays and reads the Bible during difficult times. She believes that all things are accomplished through prayer and the help of God. The only way that I can tell that my Mother is suffering is either through tears or incessant reading of the bible. She is not one to share her grief or pain with others. She is a stoic Iowa farm girl. Just picture that famous painting by Norman Rockwell with the farmer and his wife, that's my Mom, although she smiles and cries more. I hate to watch them suffer over what is happening to me.
When you grow up with twelve children in your family you have to create a niche for yourself. My dad always used to say that when I walked into a room I was like a ray of sunshine because I was always smiling. I may not have always wanted to smile, but I did because I knew it made him happy.
We were also brought up to care about what others thought of us. We were financially challenged growing up, but by God our clothes were always clean and pressed, and we usually, unlike the Jerry Springer generation, behaved well in public. My mom used to say that our teachers would tell her at school conferences what polite kids we were, which shocked her because at home it was complete mayhem. I guess that is another reason why I care too much about the way chemo has ravaged my body and how I must appear to everyone.

How to deal with your young children when you have cancer:
Lay everything out for them in age appropriate language, and at an appropriate time, not right before bed or a big test or game, find the best time possible where they will have a few quiet moments to absorb the information and ask questions.
Be honest. Kids are not stupid. They know when something is going on, if you are open and honest, but at the same time uplifting in your statements, they will be ok. It was my choice not to fall apart in front of them. I did have tears in my eyes when I told my kids but I immediately said, "I'm not exactly how much time we have, but let's not focus on that, let's focus on the time we have right now, right here, let's just live in each moment that we have with each other. This experience will help us appreciate one another even more.
Create the most "normal" environment that you can. Do as much for them as you used to when possible. Try to focus on them. It will take your thoughts away from yourself.
Find anything positive that you can to change your focus from your illness. Start a journal writing down all the positive things that happen to you each day. Don't write anything negative.
Breathe deep and just try to push through the bad parts. You can do that.