525,600 minutes

It's been 525,600 minutes since you left us. 365 days of mourning, coping, grieving, loving, missing and living.

I can't understand how a year could have past while the pain can still feel so fresh. I can't imagine how I managed to make it through 365 days without your advice, support, love and company. But mostly, I can't imagine how many years there are yet to come without you.

I spent this first year trying to get through it. And now that we're on the other side, I'm left with the realization that I have many, many more years yet to come. That is a daunting realization. How do I learn to be a Mother without one? How do I learn how to be myself without your guidance? How do I decide if the cough is bad enough for a call to the pediatrician? How do I redecorate my apartment without your advice on where the couch should go?

I miss you so much, Mommy. I miss your smile, your enthusiasm, your sense of adventure. I miss your reassurance. Your sense of just knowing. Mostly though, I miss your friendship. Your calls to just say hello and see how the boys where doing. The daily "How did he sleep last night?" or the "those shoes just went on sale...". The plans to have dinner after work or to take an adventure to Petra. I just miss you.

And after spending 365 days focused on getting through the first 365 days, I'm now faced with this bitter reality that there are endless days yet to come. But I am strong and I am brave. And now matter how difficult the day may be, I move forward. I am living. And for that I am proud, and I know that you are too.

I love you, Mommy.

A year ago

I was in the hospital, breathing through contractions, waiting to meet my sweet little babe.

This was taken as we were walking out the door to go to the hospital, where I was going to be induced. Despite my desires for an un-medicated birthing center delivery, my water was leaking and I needed to be induced 3 weeks early. Ready or not, my little one was on his way! 

I could have killed Nick for sneaking this pic during a contraction! 

Here I was, about 6 hours into my labor, sitting on a birthing ball & breathing deep. 

Wells Thomas came into the World about 3 hours later :)

I have to be honest, as I rocked Wellsy to sleep tonight, I cried. I cannot believe that he is already 1. 

I'm not ready.

I want to keep him teeny forever - well, not forever, but for a bit longer.

A year ago, my Mom sat in a chair beside my bed and cheered me on. She wasn't sure that she could stay awake into the night, but she did. And at 1:00am, when it was time to push, she got up out of her chair and held my hand as I delivered Wells. 

She held him before I did.

In that moment, she looked more alive than she had in months. She was elated. 

Life was the one thing that could make us all forget about Cancer.

Tonight I am so grateful for my healthy, happy baby boy.

I am grateful that we get to see his 1st birthday, even though I think it went too fast.

But above all, I am so grateful that my Mom held my hand and her sweet grand baby.

Baby Love.

Tonight as I was rocking my sweet little one to sleep, he snuck his little hand out of his swaddle and reached out for my hand. It instantly warmed my heart!

It made me think of my Mom.

Shortly after Wells was born, I told her that I was so glad that I had kids while she was alive, because it gave me comfort to look at them and think that she loved me that much once too. She replied, "I still do".

That makes my heart warm too.

I wish there was a way to bottle up babies to keep a piece of them tiny and innocent forever. Since I can't, I'll savor my cuddles while they last!

Long week.

This week hit me harder than I expected. Mother's Day was nicer than I thought, but Nick's graduation was much more difficult. Then I came back to piles of work after 2 days off... I haven't had a moment to breathe!

I really, really miss you. What's worse? You'd be the person that I'd call to talk through my stress. That makes me miss you more. Sometimes I can't help but feel alone. So lonely. It's a weird thing to be surrounded by people but yet feel lonely. That's how I feel today.

It was a beautiful day here and we had no plans all day! But I ended up staying in and cleaning while nick went out with the boys. I just wasn't feeling like going out. But this afternoon we had a picnic in the park, which made it all a bit better.

Still, I am very much feeling your void today. My heart is heavy. 

Graduation!

This is literally the third time that I've tried to write this post... for some reason my first 2 drafts disappeared! Weird... 

Anyway, Nick graduated this week from Teacher's College of Columbia University. I simply could not be more proud! He is amazing and as I sat on the South Lawn at Columbia with my boys, watching Nick in his cap and gown, I was overwhelmed with pride. What an outstanding role model for our children! I will never forget Jack running up to Nick that afternoon and saying "Congratulations Daddy, I'm so proud of you!" Gah! I get goose bumps every time I think of it!

 Here's Jack and I cheering as Nick's degree was conferred! So excited!

This was a long and emotional journey. Nick balanced full-time teaching with his Master's program, parenthood and life. He applied to the program when I was pregnant with Jack. During his 1st semester, Jack was born. During semester number 3, we learned that Wells was on the way. Over his summer semester, number 4, we learned that there was no cure for my Mom's cancer. By the start of semester number 5, she was sick and it was becoming apparent that she was going to die. Nick wanted to take a break so he could have more time to help our family. No way. My Mom was Nick's biggest supporter and she would have been pissed if he'd taken a break on her account. So he continued. In the middle of that semester (his fifth) Wells was born. Then, as he handed in his final assignments of that semester, my Mom died. And now here we are, at the completion of his 6th and final semester, watching him graduate after earning near perfect grades. It was a long and emotional journey, as I said. This degree represents hard work, of course! But it also represents life's highest highs and lowest lows. It is perseverance and dedication. It is worthy of incredible pride! 

On Tuesday afternoon, I sat in the Cathedral of St John the Divine alone, waiting for Nick to enter his convocation. It is an incredibly beautiful Cathedral. One that I visited with my Mom on several accounts. It's also the place where my Sweet Wells was Baptized just a month after my Mom passed. It's an emotional place for me on my best day. But as I sat there waiting for Nick to walk by in his silly coat and silly hat -- as Jack lovingly named his cap & gown -- I was overcome with sadness. As I said, my Mom was Nick's biggest fan. She was incredibly proud of him when he enrolled at TC. She watched him balance fatherhood, teaching, school and being an incredibly loving and supportive husband with awe. She adored him. And she was supposed to be here for this momentous day. It isn't fair. Her support of him rivaled my own. It made me incredibly sad. It made Nick sad too, I know. But I did not want it to overpower the joy of this incredible day. And as soon as I saw him wearing his cap and gown, the sadness was gone. It was overpowered with love, pride and joy.

It's an odd mixture of emotions. Joy, sadness, pride and emptiness, anger, resentment, awe... it's too much for one day, really. I think that I am still working through all of the complexities of it. My incredible joy and pride are not at all overshadowed by my sadness, but both are intense feelings that need to be felt. Both require my attention and consideration. And at some point I hope that I can let go of the sadness and remember this day simply with pride, but I am not there yet. It takes time.

Though I have survived a Christmas with out her, and a Mother's Day... this was harder. This was the hardest.

Nick and my Mom are similar in a lot of ways. They are the two single most important and influential people in my life. Both have a way of bringing me calm during times of stress. Both have a way of making me smile, even over the simplest of things. Both have a way of making me feel like the most important person in their life. Both fill my heart with Love. And both have overcome challenges with grace. Both have persevered. And both of them continue to make me feel extremely proud to know them. Both are incredible.

Nick, Congratulations on this most incredible accomplishment! There are so many people who are incredibly proud of this momentous feat and she is one of them. I am so proud to call you my partner and to share in this journey with you. Congratulations, my Love.

Mother's Day

This year Mother's Day was a bit different... it was certainly bitter sweet and frankly, I spent a lot of time pretending that it wasn't happening. But all in all, I have to say that Mother's Day was a really nice day. In fact, it was a nice weekend :)

On Saturday, we took Jack to Philadelphia to see Pennsylvania Ballet's Peter Pan. It was his very first ballet and it made me immensely happy to watch him enjoy it! My Mom loved the ballet. When I was a kid, she would occasionally take us into Lincoln Center and get standing room tickets to see a ballet and she loved to take us to see the Nutcracker at Christmas time! When I got my job, she was over the moon about it - always asking about my students and visiting. So getting to sit next to Jack on Mother's Day weekend while he watched his first ballet felt like a real full-circle moment. It was really wonderful.

Then Saturday afternoon, my sister came down to stay for the weekend and we met up with our Nan and Aunt. We celebrated Mother's Day together and had a nice dinner together. I love to be with the three of them, because we inevitably talk about my Mom - and we often shed a tear or two - but it never feels too sad or too much. It feels therapeutic. I suppose it's because we can all relate to how each other is feeling. It feels really nice and I was so glad to spend some time with them.

Sunday morning my fabulous husband got up with the baby and took him and the dog out for the longest walk ever, so I could sleep until 8:15. In our house, 8:15 is seriously sleeping in! It felt amazing! Then  my boys were all up and they spoiled me with this necklace, which is exactly what I wanted! :) I love having my boys so close to my heart all day.

We spent the morning exploring the Bronx Zoo. It was lots of fun! Jack is totally into animals and Wells just giggles at Jack. It's adorable! The weather was incredible, so it was nice to be outside wandering around. After visiting with the giraffes, zebras, gorillas and the mountain goats, we headed back home. Jen and I had made plans to spend the afternoon with my Dad.

 

 

We decided that Mother's Day might be the perfect day to spread some of Mom's ashes... She had asked to have them spread in Central Park, at the beach and in Battersea Park in London. Up to this point, we hadn't even opened the urn. But we knew that it was time. Jen, Dad and I wanted to spread the Central Park and London ashes together. We've done everything together up until now, so this seemed appropriate. Mother's Day would inevitably be difficult, but at least we could spend the day celebrating Mom in our own way.

So Jen and I took Wells to meet my Dad and head into Central Park. We found 2 lovely spots where we spread Mom's ashes. It seemed like the right thing to do. As my Dad said, we put a piece of her body where her soul already was. I liked that. He's so right. She walks through the Park with me regularly, but I like that I can now walk by certain spots and know that part of her is there - literally. I hope that she likes the spots we picked, though I'm sure she does.

After spreading her ashes, we went to the Boathouse and celebrated Mom with a cocktail. It was perfect. My Mom loved the Boathouse and in turn brought us all there so we could fall in love, too. It's an incredible spot to have a drink on a lovely NYC day. It also happens to be one of the last places my Mom visited in the City as we were all there together for a special day just 2 days before my baby was born!

 

Though I miss my Mom tremendously, I am grateful that I got to spend my weekend with so many of the people who matter most to me, especially my babes. Mother's Day changed for me 2 years ago, when I got to celebrate it with my then 6 day old son. It changed again this year. I imagine that it will change again in the future. All in all, it was a lovely weekend. I absolutely love being a Mommy and I'm so glad to get to celebrate it each year :)

You Did It

Just 2 days before she died, I was sitting with my Mom in her room when Nick came over with Jack. Instinctively, he walked into her bedroom with Jack to come and see me. I hadn't expected it and frankly, I hadn't really wanted Jack to see my Mom anymore. I really didn't think that I could handle it. But there we were, Mom, my Dad, Nick, Jack and me. 

After Jack said hi to everyone and gave me a kiss and hug, I told him that it was time to say good-bye to Nanny. I told him that Nanny was going to have to go soon, so we should give her a kiss and tell her that we love her. So Jack lovingly kissed his Nanny Shells and said "Love you, Nanny Shells." and then I told him that it was time to say good-bye. So Jack blew Nanny one more kiss and waved bye-bye.

This is my Mom meeting Jack for the first time minutes after he was born. 

She was in the room for his birth.

I still to this day don't know how I kept it together to get through that. I cry every time I think about it, but at the time I knew that I needed to be calm. The minute that Jack left the room, I started to cry. My Mom hadn't opened her eyes at all while Jack was in the room, I think it was just too hard, but once he left I laid next to her and held her hand and we both cried. Then I looked at her and said "that's the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I don't even know how I did it." and after a quiet moment, my Mom said "But you did." Those words were so simple but yet so profound. They have stuck with me through so many of these difficult days.

That day was the hardest for me - harder than the night she died or the day of her funeral... The only other day that really compared was the day that she told me that she was going to die, that her cancer was too advanced for them to cure it. That day was tough. But watching my innocent baby boy kiss his grandmother good-bye was the worst. 

But I did it.

My Mom never stopped reassuring me - even in her toughest days. She never stopped encouraging me. And she never stopped sharing her wisdom. Life is full of difficult things that we think must be impossible. But we do them.

And here she is meeting Wells for the first time. Again, she was in the delivery room. 

This time she held the baby before anyone else did.

I was thinking about this a lot yesterday, Mother's Day, and wanted to share. All in all, Mother's Day was a lovely day. I will write more about it later. There was much to be grateful for and many things to reflect upon. And though I was dreading it a bit... I did it.

 Here we are together, with both of my boys. Wells was just hours old.

I Miss You...

What can I say...
It's almost Mother's Day and though I've been focusing on my beautiful babes as much as I can, I can't stop thinking about you. I miss you.
I'm mad that I can't even remember if I saw you last year for Mother's Day. Why didn't I make that a priority?! Ugh. I know I can't change the past, but it's hard to not resent it sometimes.
Mother's Day will never be the same. It will always be a reminder of my sadness and loss.
I'm trying to refocus, but tonight it's hard.
I miss you, Mommy. So much.

Happy Mother's Day.

Deep Breaths

Buying a Mother's Day card for someone 5 months after your mother dies is no easy task. 

Oy.

Taking deep breaths.

Walk for Bladder Cancer

On Saturday, May 5th I will walk for Bladder Cancer Awareness along with my family and friends to honor the legacy of my incredible mother. The walk supports the Bladder Cancer Advocacy Network. It is the second year that BCAN has done a Walk for Bladder Cancer and the first that that there's been one on Long Island - my family actually organized the walk in honor of Mom. Without the hard work of my amazing sister, this wouldn't have been possible! (Jen, you are truly amazing! I love you!)

I walk with hope that others will not have to know my pain. I believe that awareness is the best tool for survival. Every day that I miss my Mom is a day that I commit myself to making sure that she was not taken in vein. Right now, that means fundraising. 

I have been completely floored and overwhelmed by the response that I've received from my friends and family. So far, I have raised $950! I am so grateful to have a network of people around me who are so willing to show support - both with love & prayers and financially by supporting my fundraising efforts. It's just another reminder that I have much to be grateful for.

Mommy, I hope that you're proud of the work that we're doing. Scratch that. I know that you're proud. What I hope is that it helps...

If you'd like to support me, you can find my fundraising page here. If you would like to walk with Team Long Island the details are on my page - you can just show up and register upon your arrival! To find a walk near you, click here.

One year

A year ago my little boy was about to turn 1! I was newly pregnant with my little peanut. Life was good!

I woke up extra early on my boy's birthday and we watched the Royal Wedding together.

  

 This is such a terrible picture of me, I can't even believe I'm sharing it! 

It was after the Royal Wedding, after Jack woke up, while we were waiting 

for the Prince & Princess to kiss on the balcony :)

My Baby was 1!

I awaited the news from my Mom's doctor appointment.

We got everything ready for Jack's big day... We had a birthday picnic in the Park planned for the next day and we were hard at work getting everything prepared.

Saturday we had our picnic party with all of our friends and family. Jack had his own cake, which he tore apart. It was such a fun day. 

 That's my beautiful mother in the background watching Jack get his cake

Then, after my friends all left, my Mom asked if I would walk with her to the bathroom. My Dad & Nick followed close behind us. 

Then she told me that she had cancer. 

I know exactly where we were when she said the words. I can still hear them echoing in my head. Her voice was calm and steady. She was clearly worried about me and was trying hard to be calming. I didn't get upset. The exact words that I told her were "OK. Well, we're gonna beat it." I literally had no doubts that she would be OK and that we would beat this. I told her that I was grateful for 2 things. The first was our family, because I knew that we could get through anything. The second was her proximity to New York City. I knew that she had access to the World's Best medical care here. I was calm and certain that this would be OK. I may have welled up a bit, but I didn't really cry right away.

Just one year later I am here preparing for my baby's 2nd Birthday... and she's gone.

I go between resentment and anger that my boy will forever have to share his birthday with this memory, and hope that his celebration will give me reason to feel happy... In a nutshell, it sucks.

It's a tough week. And I hate not being excited about my Baby's birthday party.

Earlier this week, while we were talking about his party Jack asked me to invite Nanny Shells. He said "Mommy, tell Nanny Shells to come. She can see Mommy and see Papa". That about broke my heart. At the same time, I'm so glad that he remembers her enough to miss her. 

I miss her. I hate hating my kid's birthday. But I thank God for my kids. They get me through and give me a reason to smile every single day.

Whether they know it or not, both my boys are in this picture :)

If I have survived this year, I can survive this week.

Bittersweet

Bittersweet. Something that I've said hundreds of times in my life. It's one of those expressions that gets tossed around a lot to describe mixed emotions or something that's conflicting. But it's a concept that has rarely felt so applicable. There has been no shortage of contrast over these past months, but lately there has also been a lot of bittersweet. Here's the latest example...

My Mom was super invested in my job. Prior to my getting my current job, my work had always been something that she didn't quite understand. Not that she wasn't incredibly supportive, but I don't think she could ever really relate to it. It was unique. But when I moved to New York and started my current job, she was so excited. I literally talked about her in my interview. I remember saying that I was so glad that I'd learned about this school. That even if the interview didn't go anywhere, I couldn't wait to go home and tell my Mom about it. (Yes, I was that person.) Needless to say, I got the job. Lucky me! And she was so excited. She'd often come to visit me at work and watch dance classes. She just loved the environment and I loved having her be a part if it. 

Right off the bat, there were a handful of students that she became especially fond of. She'd regularly ask me about them to see how they were doing. It always made me glad that she was so intrigued and engaged in my work. Well today one of the students that she was especially fond of - she called him "my friend" - shared some really wonderful news with me. It was a big day for him and it was so sweet of him to share with myself and a handful of my colleagues. 

But it feels so incredibly bitter sweet.

My Mom would be so thrilled with her friend's news. I am really sad that I can't call her to tell her all about it. On the flip side I am incredibly happy for him and his huge accomplishment. Not to mention that I feel so privileged to have been a part of it, even in a small way. I am humbled that he wanted to come to share his news with me. I just really wish that I could now share it with her...

It feels so unfair that in fewer than four years we can go from me starting this job and meeting this then young boy and watching him grow up, to now. He's blossoming and she's gone.

It is so unfair. And this is really bittersweet. 

Appreciate your Mother

Today I am missing my Mom a lot.

My sweet baby won't sleep - he's never slept through the night, but now he's teething on top of it. Ugh! So my pediatrician gave me a pep talk yesterday that it's time for me to start sleep training... Shut the door and let him cry... blah. blah. Not exactly the suggestions I was hoping for. Then we had a really rough night. He cried for hours, even as we held him. So now here I am, tired and completely overwhelmed by what to do next. I just want to call my Mom.

The funny thing is that I know exactly what she'd say. She'd tell me to close the door, take a walk and let him cry. I've never wanted to disagree with someone so badly! I know that there would be more to the conversation than this... she'd support me and make me feel better. She'd probably tell me to take a bath and try and relax a little. She'd reassure me. But ultimately, she was a believer in crying it out. So ultimately, we'd disagree about this.

I'm sad that I can't disagree with her. That I can't just call her and hear that everything is going to be OK. It made me think of all the things that I took for granted.

Then this afternoon one of my dear friends told me that her Mom's birthday was coming up. They don't have a terribly close relationship. But as she was writing out her Mom's birthday card, she thought of me, and instead of just signing her name she wrote a note to tell her Mom a few things that she appreciated about her. It made my day.

It's been hard to see what the bigger lessons in all of this might be. But I am certain that if one person appreciates their Mom just a little bit more - even for one day! - some of this is worth it.

I know how lucky I was to have such an incredible bond with my Mom. I know it's not typical. I know how special it was. But I also know that no mother sets out to have a bad relationship with their kids. No mother wants to screw up. So even when your mother drives you crazy - when she tells you to let your baby cry and can't understand why you don't want to - appreciate her. Appreciate that at least you're able to disagree.

Today, all I want is to call my Mom and disagree.

Happy Birthday!!

A few weeks before she died, I asked my Mother what she thought heaven would be like. Without opening her eyes, she paused for a moment and said: "Bergdorf Goodman without needing any money!" I laughed so hard! It was so quintessentially Shelli.

So today, I am at Bergdorf Goodmans having a lunch and a glass of champagne with my Mom.

Happy Birthday, Mommy! Thanks for teaching me to appreciate the finer things in life, while still keeping grounded to who I am. And thanks for teaching me to appreciate a nice glass of champagne now and again ;)

Tonight my family will all come together for a dinner to celebrate! But for now I am so grateful for my quiet lunch with you. xo

Dear Mom.

Again today, someone stopped me to tell me how much I look like you. I suppose it's a combination of my short hair and the fact that everyone is missing you...

Every time someone says this to my, I am completely flattered. It is such a compliment.

But then I instantly hope that they don't just mean that I look like you, but that I have the same warmth that you had. I hope that I can make people feel at least a fraction of the way that you made them feel... like they mattered.

Thanks for passing your smile on to me. 

I love you.

Dear Mom.

Mommy,

I have been missing you so much lately. I am not surprised by this, but I've been caught off guard by the intensity of my sadness. I imagined that the pain would start to lessen. It had for a little bit. But suddenly it has seemed to come back with vengeance. I wake up thinking of you. I forget that you're not still here. I must be dreaming of you... I've pulled out my phone to call you twice in the past week. When my conscious realizes what my subconscious has forgotten, my heart aches.

I've spent some time trying to figure out what's different. What has changed? What is making my heart hurt worse than before? I think it's the way that I'm thinking of you. For a while, I was always thinking of you with cancer. The you who left us. The you of those last few months. I was sad that you were gone, but I had gotten used to not talking to you every day or going to the museum and shopping... Lately though, I've found myself thinking of you. The real you. The you that I loved and cherished for all of my life. The you I still love and cherish. On one hand I am so happy that the real you has returned to my thoughts. I was worried that I would always think of you dying, instead of you living. I am glad that I dream of you laughing, smiling, having fun! I dream of you being you. The sadness comes when I realize just how much I miss that you. My God, it's a desperate sadness that literally takes my breath away. I will never get on a plane with you, walk through the Park with you or watch you hold my babes again. I am literally sick just thinking of that... *breathe*

Thank you. Thank you for coming to my dreams the way that you do. Though I rarely remember the content of our visit, I find comfort in knowing that you are yourself again, wherever you are. Thank you for letting me see your smile again. For letting me hear your voice and your laugh. Thank you for reminding me of the joy we shared. 

Please keep visiting me.

I love you more than I know how to say. 

Always,
Victoria

I miss you.

Today, I really miss you. It's cold and rainy and the boys were a handful this morning... I wish I could talk to you. I miss you so much, it's hard to breathe. I'm trying to find perspective to ground myself, but I can't.

I saw something today that I knew you would love. I just wish I could call you and share it with you. Though I know you are listening, I wish I could hear you.

Life just isn't the same without you.

Some days gratitude is hard to find.

Instead of searching, I will sleep and hope for a better tomorrow.

I love you.

A late night visit.

Some may think that this is totally creepy, but I am a believer.

Over the past 2 months, I have often thought that my Mom was popping in to check on my boys. Baby w was laughing at the ceiling one night and I just knew the she was there. I even looked up and said, "hi Mom." One day, seemingly out of nowhere, j said,"Hi Nanny". I just smiled, glad that she was looking in on him. Last night, for the first time, she came for me.

Baby w got shots yesterday and was quite upset at bedtime. My poor little guy. He woke a lot in the night. So at 5:15am I brought him into our bed and snuggled him back to sleep. Then as I was laying there, cuddled with my sweet, sleeping baby, I felt her. It was as if she wrapped her arms around both of us. A sense of calm came over me and I felt myself relax into the thought of her. I told her how much I miss her. I remembered waking up to see her sleeping on our couch with my then baby j snuggled into her. She'd often come and stay the night to  got up with him and give us a good nights rest.
It made my heart warm.

Though today I am sad and really missing her...

I am thankful.

I am thankful that I believe that she's still with me.
I am thankful that even if it was all imagined, it felt good.

I miss you. But I am so happy that you visit us.
We all love you, so much.

The beginning.

One year ago I was married to the greatest guy I'd ever met, my best friend and a wonderful partner. We had a perfect, healthy, beautiful 9 month old son, j. There was an idea that maybe we should test our luck and try for another perfect babe. We were happy. Our home was full of energy, laughter, love and lots of firsts! j was starting to crawl and his little personality was forming. It was amazing.

About a week later - on Feb 17, 2011 - I discovered that babe #2 was in fact coming our way! I was terrified and in complete disbelief. Yes, we were talking about this idea, but we had only just toyed with it. Apparently, we're a very fertile pair. Noted. That night I told nick that I was pregnant. I believe he said "holy shit". I felt the same way! Don't get me we were excited and blessed, but also totally terrified and overwhelmed.

About a week after that, we met my parents in Florida for a family cruise. When we got on board, we dressed j in a onsie that said "Big Bro 2 B" and paraded him in front of my parents. They were over the moon! I told them how scared I was. My Mom said "do you think that I wasn't scared when I found out about your sister?!" All of a sudden I knew everything would be ok. For the first time, I was excited.

2 months later, my J turned 1 and it was finally time to announce #2 to the World. We had a great 1st Birthday party in Central Park. It was so fun. All of our friends and family were there. As the party wound down and people started leaving, my mom asked to talk to me. She took me for a walk and changed my life forever. She told me that she had cancer.

I will always remember J's first birthday...

Over the coming weeks and months, we would learn that what was initially a curable cancer had spread. It was stage 4. At best, she would have 4 years...

At the same time, we were learning that baby #2 was healthy. He was kicking and dancing around in my belly, reminding me that he was there. Yep, he was a he! On the same exact day that Mom had a scan that would ultimately tell us how bad her cancer really was, we had a scan that showed my baby was a healthy boy. These weeks and months were such a combination of highs and lows, it's difficult to know exactly how to describe it. While I hated the lows, I was also glad to have highs.

By September, my Mom wasn't well. She'd had to spend a week in the hospital, in addition to numerous visits for fluids and antibiotics. She had to downgrade her chemo regiment because the initial treatment plan was literally killing her. The new chemo wasn't as hash, but it came with lesser odds... we started to consider that she might never meet #2 who wasn't due until the end of October. These weeks were some of the most difficult. Balancing this stress, with the anxiety of a new baby and the need to keep a strong, healthy body for #2. It was tough. My Mom wanted few things as badly as she wanted to be there to meet her new grandson. Aside from a miracle, I don't know that I wanted anything more either.

Luckily, things got a bit better and my Mom found some energy to fight. When my sweet #2, arrived 3 weeks early, she was in the delivery room. She not only got to meet her new grandson, but got to hold him before I did. It was - and will always be - one of my most cherished memories. It was a miracle in it's own right. It was a blessing, just like baby w.

When #2 was only 5 days old he had to go into the NICU with jaundice and dehydration. My Mom was too ill that week to even understand what was happening, let alone to call me. In fact, just a day or so after w came home, she ended up going into the hospital. Those were difficult days. I hadn't ever imagined a day when my Mom couldn't call me to say, "everything is going to be ok." I cried. Not for worry about my sweet little baby. I cried for me. A little bit of her was already gone and my mourning had started. It was devastating. But I survived. And my sweet w was finally thriving.

Mom got a bit better after a few days in the hospital. We went to see her and even got her out of bed so she could come downstairs and see my boys who weren't allowed up in her room. She held my sweet baby again, in her wheelchair. She watched j run around and play. She got to hear him learn to speak. He calls her Nanny Shells. I have no doubts that on those days, my boys helped her find strength to keep fighting. It was also during those days that my Mom decided to stop her treatments.

She learned that the cancer had continued to spread in spite of the chemo. At the same time, the chemo was making her sick and was giving her minimal odds. She decided that she'd rather live the last weeks or months of her life without chemo, at home. As hard as it is to think back on... at the time, I was so relieved by her decision. I knew, without hesitation, that I would have done the exact same thing. She was so brave.

We spent a lot of time visiting her at home. As my sweet little baby smiled his first smiles and giggled at me for the first time, my Mom was dying in the next room. The contrast of life and death was undeniable and so profound.

As j ran around their house and w turned 2 months, my Mom took her last breaths in the next room. On those last few days, my boys were at home with my husband. I knew that I needed to be a daughter and not a mother... On December 13, 2011 my mother died, surrounded by love and family. She was my best friend, mentor and someone I can only hope to be like. I miss her every. single. day. I have never known such profound sorrow or loss.

After her funeral, we returned to the house where my boys were waiting. Again, such a conflict of joy and sorrow. While I was so deeply heartbroken, my heart was also full of love and gratitude for 2 beautiful, healthy babies.

So started a journey towards gratitude...

I have no doubts that the timing of everything in this past year was meant to be. On the darkest and saddest of days, I have also had joy and hope in my boys. My j knows only joy. He has a boisterous personality and loves to dance, laugh and play. He is too innocent to understand cancer. He brought me laughter - every day. Sweet little w was so tiny and cuddly. He needed to be cared for and loved. It is impossible to feel sadness when snuggling a baby. His needs were a distraction and his presence alone gave us hope.

This year has been incredible challenging. I've found myself lost. It is my hope that through the course of the year to come I can find peace. By focusing on the good, I hope to find myself again.

So today, I am grateful for this space. A place where I can remember the past and celebrate hopes for the future.

If you're still with me... thank you. Thank you for taking this journey and taking the time to read my story. I am grateful for you.