This week has been bananas. From sleeping on the floor of LaGuardia airport to tv interviews to the most wonderful crowds at our Chicago and Boston events. I cannot thank all of you enough for your support of The Luckiest, and I cannot wait to bring this book tour to the West coast with Miguel. I don’t want to oversell what we are providing but, I think it’s pretty special.
This week has been an anxiety fueled whirlwind and yet, as I sit here writing this, I am happy. My new book, The Luckiest: A Memoir of Love, Loss, Motherhood, and the Pursuit of Self hit bookcases, e-readers, and headphones everywhere on Tuesday. This very intimate telling of the many layers of my life is out in the world and that is as exciting as it is terrifying.
Four days. The Luckiest comes out in four days. I’ve had several people ask me if publishing this book feels different from Normal Broken. To which I cackle like a crazy person and answer, yes.
I’m trying to enjoy a season of yes but my body is having other plans. And no, I don’t want to give myself any more grace. Also, did you pre-order The Luckiest yet?
Today is Adelaide’s 10th birthday. In another world she is healthy and in fourth grade. This weekend we will have a small birthday party for her as we always do, sing her happy birthday, and release ladybugs. But I wanted to do more. So, in the face of scientific funding cuts at the NIH, I’ve decided to do an online fundraiser for the Undiagnosed Diseases Network Foundation (UDNF) in Adelaide’s name.
Oh, hey there! Did you see I’m taking The Luckiest on the road? And that Miguel is joining me? I LOVE writing, I even enjoy the editing process, but easily one of my favorite parts of publishing a book is having an excuse to travel the country and connect in person with all of you. I love hearing about your lives, and what blogs, essays, or chapters have resonated with you. It’s also true that I’ve never met a microphone I didn’t like.
Every season comes with its own challenges, especially when parenting is involved, and this one feels particularly messy: A barbie doll is thrown in with baseball cleats and sheet music, we have several different careers pulling us in opposite directions, and there are socks and snack crumbs everywhere. In so many ways this feels more like the life I envisioned when Jackson was a baby than any life I’ve imagined since. Is it possible that after a decade of detours we’re back on that once familiar life path?
I’m not sure why the fall always catches me by surprise. I see it coming, I try to mentally prepare. But every dang year it knocks me on my ass culminating in a sprint to the end-of-year holidays. This year though, I’m feeling it all a little extra. I’m just more tired. Is it because my energy is still compromised after a year of surgeries (#FuckCancer)? Am I simply out of logistical shape and I just need to stretch these planning muscles a little more? Or maybe this is a part of getting older? I know that witnessing the dismantling of American democracy is not helping. Then again, could this be a side effect of Tamoxifen…
Earlier this month, my temporary expanders, which were placed during my mastectomy in May and filled over time to my desired size, were replaced with my permanent implants. The expanders were sewn to my chest wall and as a result didn’t move, felt unnatural, and were generally uncomfortable. I was so excited to have them removed that I hadn’t thought much about the implants replacing them.
The current rhetoric is not going to simmer down on its own. There will have to be a tipping point, and I don’t want to think of how many more lives will be lost in the fall or leading up to it.
Yet, as all this happens in the background, we continue to live our lives. That dissonance alone is enough to spike my anxiety.
It is a widely known fact that I crave control in just about every aspect of my life. Though, life has LOVED reminding me how little control I actually possess. My workaround has been to focus on what I know I can control. To flip every switch and lever available to me in hopes that even if it all goes to shit, I can at least look back and say I did everything I could.
Even though *I* am not returning to school, there is still something about this time of year that feels more new year-ish than New Year’s. And this back-to-school season, I’m feeling it more than most: in just two months The Luckiest will be in your hands and next week I will undergo what I hope is my final breast reconstruction surgery. I am saying ta ta to my uncomfortable and temporary tatas (ie expanders) and hello to my more permanent ones (implants).
