Bald Chicks

Today I made a comment to all of my friends about sponsoring me for my St. Baldricks endeavor. I assumed that everyone knew what I was talking about so I left my comment at that. Very vague and minimal. I have had a lot of questions asked. So, I decided to go into more detail about this topic.

I first have to say that I have a friend who once peddled her “charity” to me and all of her friends, enticing them to donate to her cause and to help her out. I was aggravated at the request to donate money to her cause but I did it anyway. I thought, “Why are you asking your friends for money for YOUR cause?” Donate the money yourself. Now I understand.

Two years ago, I was at work and when I went on break, I saw a pamphlet for “St. Baldricks”. I wondered what it was and asked my coworkers. They told me that someone else from my job was raising money to help fund childhood cancer research and in the process, they were going to shave their head. I thought that was ridicules, but cool. So I did my research. I thought to myself, “I would totally shave my head if it helped someone or something.”

So here it is, that is exactly what St. Baldricks is all about. Volunteers decide to raise as much money as they possibly can. This money goes to childhood cancer research. Now, my children are healthy, crazy, monsters…I mean, little boys. J However, my friend Terence has a little girl (who is 6 years old) named Violet who suffers from Neuroblastoma, which is a rare and deadly childhood cancer. Terence and I are not very close but I have followed the health of his daughter and have constantly sent my prayers and best wishes their way. I always said to him, “If there is anything I can do, please just tell me”. When I heard about St. Baldricks, I knew that it was a sign. That was what I had to do. So in dedication to Violet  (who is still alive today but fighting for her life and health) I decided to register to be a participant in this St. Baldricks “thing”. I raised money, which was not as much as I wanted to but every little bit helps. Raising money and getting donations from my friends and relatives was a bit strange and foreign to me. I didn’t know how to ask them and then I felt bad for doing it. This topic is to be continued later…..

Someone asked me why we shave our heads. This was a simple answer to me and it made more sense than anything did. Violet swayed my decision. Remember she’s 6 and while going through Chemotherapy and radiation, she lost her hair. She was upset and sad because she had hair all the way down to her lower back. It was long, brown, and wavy. So beautiful. When she lost it, she said that she felt like a boy and she always said that she was okay with losing her hair to get better but she felt ugly. I was so upset to hear this. It broke my heart into little pieces and I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to put them back together because I KNEW that Violet wasn’t the only little girl or child to feel this way.

Hair is hair. It’s not gold. It doesn’t make you better. You cannot run faster with long hair. You cannot spell better with a beautiful mane. Hair is what you make it. If you have it, you try to make it beautiful. If you don’t have it, you show your true beauty. I was eager to shave my head in dedication to Violet because I wanted to show her that hair is just….hair. You can still be pretty without it. You can still be happy and loved without hair. As I said, hair is hair. For most of us, it will just grow back. Hair doesn’t make you beautiful; your soul makes you beautiful. What is inside is what shows true beauty. If cancer takes your hair, show cancer that you’re still strong and you’re still beautiful. You don’t need that stinkin’ hair. And after all, you won’t have to use conditioner, brush it, curl it or scrunch it. This is what Violet liked because she hated to hair her hair messed with before.

After I shaved my head the first time, I went to visit her. She thought I was sick to. Until I told her that I did it for her. She was surprised that I WANTED to be bald and she was surprised that I was still pretty, even without hair. I reminded her that hair doesn’t make you beautiful. Her attitude made her beautiful, her face made her beautiful, and her caring and loving spirit made her absolutely gorgeous. Her chemotherapy ended shortly after I shaved my heard. Our hair grew back at almost the same speed. It was fun to watch her hair change and to watch her get better. It was amazing. It made me realize that what I did, even thought it was just raising a little bit of money and shaving my head, made a difference. If anything, it made a difference to her.

Violet is doing much better now. She’s still sick but she has been feeling much stronger and much more….solid minded. She turns 8 this year.

A couple months ago, I was fretting out about my hair. I was always saying, it looks to dry, I hate it; I wish I could just start anew. I started to think of Violet and started feeling like a total douche…

Now that I have children and they are growing and thriving. I know that childhood cancer affects children’s lives tremendously. It takes away their childhood and makes them deal with grown up things way to fast, and it’s not fair. They deal with more pain and agony that most adults would ever experience in their lifetime. Then I thought about their parents. If one of my children had cancer, I don’t know what I would do. I would be in a mental hospital, I’m sure. I’m not sure if I could deal with it. Watching my child go through all that is involved with a disease would sicken me. It would wear me down and if something happened to them, my life would be over for sure.

A couple months ago when I was freaking out about how much I hated my hair, I thought about that. Yes, Violet is feeling much better, but there are millions of other children that are going through the same thing. At least I have hair. Why am I being so superficial? That’s it, I had it. That’s when I decided that I would do St. Baldricks again this year. But only this time I would make it bigger and badder than before. I’m going to raise MORE money and shave off MORE hair and bring MORE people in with me to do it. I’m going to get the word out there so one day; cancer will be a thing of the past. I envision the day when children don’t get sick and if they do, it can be cured. This day will not come if research isn’t done, and research will not be done in full unless people like you and me donate to the cause.

Now I’m not trying to make anyone feel guilty or force anyone into doing anything they do not want to do. I just wanted to get the word out and remind people that there are some who have it worse than we do. I wanted to tell everyone in more detail what St. Baldricks is and explain why it is so near and dear to me. And let’s not lie...I want you to contribute to the cause by sponsoring me. Even if it is just two dollars, Heck, even fifty cents. Any amount of money I can raise this year is a blessing.

I’m going bald, BALD EAGLE BALD, bald as can be bald, on St. Patricks day this year. My fund raising goal is $2000. I’m sure I can do it, or at least get close, I just need followers and I need people to be with me on this. I plan to post before and after pictures as well as video from the event of the actual shaving of my mane. Please take this as a piece of learning material…or encouragement. Whichever you prefer. Please reach deep into your soul and think about what is important. Donate to the cause or register to be shaven, yourself!

Here is the link...
http://www.stbaldricks.org/participants/mypage/participantid/502599

Let me now address the elephant in the room…

Many people who read my blog are my close and personal friends or at the very least, people I know or once knew well. Most people who know me now, know that I was a surrogate mom recently and I just wanted to take a moment to talk about this “Triumph”. (Names are withheld)

I absolutely love the family who I was a surrogate for. The wife and mother is an amazing woman who believes in her faith. She is so caring and compassionate and I consider her to be a very close and personal friend (a sister in all perspectives). Her husband is quite the same as her and they have a great relationship. In addition, they have a little boy whom they are amazing parents to. When I thought about being her surrogate, I took all of these things into perspective and knew immediately that I wanted to help them any way I could.

(The whole process leading up the birth and now will be in detail in our book J )

Today she sent me a picture of Eli (I can’t not say his name). She sends me many and I am thankful for that because they live so far away. Eli was doing tummy time today and for the first time, he fell asleep on his tummy. The picture was so sweet and it made me smile instantly. I started to think back to when I first saw him…

…I remember it like it was yesterday. I drove to the hospital at 11pm. I remember getting there and being so relieved to be finally getting this big guy outta me. They hooked me up to IV’s and the very next morning I was wheeled into surgery. I remember being in this room, waiting to be taken into the operation room. I had to pee so badly and I asked the nurse if I could get up and go and she said no but brought me a bedpan. I had to go so bad! She put the bedpan under me and walked away. What was I supposed to do? Go? Right there in bed? I said no way. I couldn’t do it. I sat there for about ten minutes having to pee so badly but…I just couldn’t do it in my bed. (Thank you God for a catheter in the OR).

My anesthesiologist was amazing. He was so nice and during the whole procedure, he was always asking me how I was and rubbing my head. It really put me at ease. My doctor was amazing, telling me what he was doing step by step. The whole procedure lasted longer than I remembered with my boys. I was waiting and waiting for it to be over because I was starting to get scared, when all of a sudden I heard this great cry. It was so loud and so constant. Waa waaaa. Lol. I was so surprised to hear it at that moment that I burst into tears. I was shocked to hear him and to finally see him. He was immediately the most adorable creature I ever saw.

After everything, they wheeled me to recovery, then back to my room. I was there for a couple hours before my fiancé could come see me. He had to get the boys to school before he could come see me. He got there early. He got to see Eli and he was really worried about me seeing him. He was worried during the whole process that I would be super emotional or change my mind. Which I understand. However, he was so wrong. Eli’s dad arrived shortly after. I remember them wheeling Eli in and the look on his (Dad’s) face when he saw him for the first time. He looks surprised and somewhat scared. We took picture of him holding Eli for the first time. It was an amazing moment for me. To know that I had a part in his life was overwhelming to me. In a good way. After a while, he asked if I wanted to hold Eli and I said yes, of course. I had waited to hold or see him until dad got to see him first. That was important to me. When he handed Eli to me, I saw the apprehension on my fiancés face. But I could only focus on this perfect little baby boy who was placed I my arms. I held him, stared at him, and fell in love with him. I undid his blanket to see what his tiny body looked like. Perfect of course. He had long thin legs and the cutest little piggy toes. (I wanted to bite one off so I could keep it with me forever-Weeds) I quickly gave him back to his daddy and before he left, I had him take Eli back to the nursery.

Awhile later, he left and so did my fiancé. I was there, alone in the hospital room, and it was early in the evening. A  new nurse came on and she wheeled Eli into my room an asked if I wanted to feed him. My brain was screaming “NOO” but my heart yelled, “Of course I do.” She handed him to me and walked away. I fed him, burped him, changed him, and stared at him. His features, his smell. I drank it all in. He fell asleep on my chest and I couldn’t move him. He layed there for almost three hours before I got so tired that I just had to put him back into his little crib thing. I called the nurse to take him back to the nursery.

The next morning Mom arrived (Eli’s mom) with her sister. It was a little awkward because when she walked in, Eli was sleeping on me. I felt bad because I didn’t want her to think I was making some motherly bond with him or to think I had changed my mind. She thought neither of course. Gosh, I tried so hard to act cool and not burst into tears when I saw her. I was so relieved that she was there. Finally, she got to meet her new little baby boy. It was so…incredible to see her hold him for the first time. Right away, she got to feed him and looking at her, she was a natural. He fit perfectly into her arms and was immensely content. I think he knew that his mommy was holding him. No, I knew he knew that.

During the whole hospital stay, I spent more time with little Eli than I wanted to. I was afraid to fall into love with him. But it was inevitable. Who wouldn’t? I fed him, burped him, changed him, talked to him, and slept with him. This may sound strange but…for those 4 days; it felt like he was my baby. I’m so happy that I got to spend that time with him. I couldn’t justify him staying in the nursery the whole time. I think he needed me to love him while his mommy and daddy couldn’t be there. I at least know this…He will always know who his Auntie Sam is. He will know that I loved/love him. I remember holding him one night and watching episodes of Weeds on Hulu. I couldn’t sleep because I didn’t have the heart to put him down so, I just kept watching TV.

The last day at the hospital was the hardest day. I remember mom getting Eli dressed to go and packing up all of our things. It was a sad day because we were going so far away from each other. It was a happy day because it was truly the day that Eli left to be a part of the family he was made to be a part of. I have to admit, I was sad. I didn’t want to leave the hospital. I was fine though.  I put on my big girl panties and got all my stuff together to go home…We walked down to the cars…I was still fine…We hugged, kissed, and said our goodbyes, we got into our cars…I was still fine. I remember that they were driving in front of us. I was looking through their back window, “mom” was driving, and her sister was in the back seat with Eli. I remember seeing the top of Eli’s car seat and when I realized that was what I was looking at, I lost it. I just started crying and crying. The thing is, it was not a sad cry. It was totally a happy cry. I was happy that he was finally going home to meet his big brother and his family and to be settled in his new life and home. I didn’t, nor do I, regret anything. I just missed him. Part of me wanted to be back in the hospital. Part of me couldn’t wait to get home.

Once I was home, all I wanted to do was to see my boys. I got all comfortable on the couch. It was still hard to get around because of the surgery. I got all ready and my fiancé went to get the boys. They were so happy to see me an I cried like a baby to see them. I forgot how much I missed them and just wanted to hug them so tight and never leave their sight again. For the first week, it was hard. I battled not being pregnant, missing Eli, and wanting to be back at the hospital. Eli’s mom started to send me pictures all the time and that made me feel GREAT. It was nice to see Eli at home and integrated into his family and to see everyone around him and loving him. It really helped me to relax and sort of accept everything.

Now, looking back. It was the most amazing experience ever. I feel fantastic about everything. I talk to my best friend (Eli’s mom), whom I consider a sister to me, nearly every day. We exchange pictures and talk about our daily lives. It is nice to know that she is only a phone call or a few finger taps of the keys away. I talk about them often and think about them daily. It is such a remarkable feeling to know that I am part of someone’s life in such a unique way. I feel really good about myself and If I had to turn back time, I would ABSOLUTELY do it again…only for them though!

What I didn’t think about before was how hard it must have been for them to trust me with their baby’s life. To take care of him and put all of my care and love into him. They had to trust that I wouldn’t change my mind and that I would stick to what I said. Yes, they were amazing and they did great with the astonishingly hard wait and with trusting that I would take care of their little boy.

I love what I did and what I was a part of. For those of you who know me. Don’t feel bad to ask me a question. Don’t feel that you will upset me or put me in a “mood”. You won’t. I love talking about everything and answering questions. If my experience would encourage someone else to help another person out with the gift of a baby to complete a family, then I feel great. There is not one bad thing I have to say about anything I have been through. I love it and it is a part of who I am. They got a new baby that day…I adopted a whole family though. I know how blessed I am and I thank God every day for the opportunity and for giving me this newfound connection with the most amazing people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. With my boys and my family,…I now feel complete!