This weekend we celebrated the wedding of one of my husband’s best friends. He was one of the best men at our wedding and now my husband was in his friend’s wedding party. We went down to Washington DC for the weekend to participate and delight in the nuptials of the bride and groom. It was our first trip away from the girls. When we arrived on Friday, everyone asked my husband how I was holding up. He would say, “she’s great right now, but the waterworks are going to start later”.
I’m happy to report that I didn’t cry over our separation at all, not once. All of the status reports from my parents (they took on the babysitting responsibilities) were glowing. The girls were happy, fed and mostly well-behaved. My brilliant mother had done her homework. She read The Happiest Toddler on the Block the night before and has been trying her new techniques on the big girl. I look forward to lessons when I get home.
Of course, what I’m most excited about is squeezing my little girls. I can’t wait to walk in the door and see the baby’s smile and her legs kicking as if she’s jumping on an imaginary trampoline in the air. She does this when she is so excited she can barely contain herself. And I can’t wait to see my older daughter run up and hug us and then give us an animated run down of her trip to the “cow store” for ice cream and the zoo with Nanny and PopPop.
I was a ball of nerves leaving them. The white board in our kitchen is a sight to behold. Instructions, tips, “don’t forgets” outlined in bright colors. I went a little overboard in my effort to make things easy for everyone. Going through the preparations was a primer in planned child abandonment. I hope it will come in handy when I go for surgery. At least now I know that they can do it (both the girls and my parents). It sounded like they all had fun!
Although the hospital stay won’t be the raucous and relaxing good time we had with friends this weekend, it will be something else of its own. Rejuvenating in a different way. A release from future anxieties. Not just the release we felt after many mimosas, mudslides and martinis over the past forty eight hours. Instead, perhaps, the relief of knowing I will be breast cancer free for the next forty eight years.

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