Sometimes God leads his people into the wilderness. And then there are those of us who end up there because we didn't ask for directions. That would be me.
When the twins were born, I laid myself down and gave everything (or almost everything) to insure they had a healthy, good start in life.
And I succeeded. I don't regret that. I would do it again.
Except next time I would ask for help. My pride hindered me from asking–or, at least, following through with actually getting it. I had been able to do it all by myself with the first three children. I foolishly believed I could do it alone with the twins.
In taking it all on myself, I have driven myself into a dry and thirsty land where no water is. The exhaustion is so deep, I cannot plumb the depths of it. I'm half-worried that I've permanently broken something–that my health has run aground.
Today I went to see the doctor and everything came tumbling out.
I'mtiredandworriedandoverwhelmedandIfeellikesomethingisbroken.
She fetched me some tissue and I honked away, utterly incapable of keeping myself together. She patted my knee and said she would take care of me.
And she did. Once again, I have lumps in my breasts. Multiple lumps. Both sides. With one particularly largish lump on the right.
Have I been doing my self-breast exams? Uh. Well. Kinda?
This is your life, the doctor explained most gently. You must take care of yourself.
And once again, I'm headed back for a breast ultrasound, perhaps another smashogram.
Also, extensive bloodwork and a few other things to make sure I'm OK.
My mother (a survivor of stage 3 breast cancer) consoled me. "You probably just have lumpy breasts."
She's probably right. I keep reminding myself that last year it was just a lump of fat!
I have fat, lumpy breasts. Or, as the tech last year noted while looking at the image of my breasts on her handy-dandy little screen: "I can see [the five kids] have really sucked the life outta these." WHY, THANKS!
Still, I would do it all again. Breastfeed five babies, I mean. Not the mammogram. No, that's not so much my favoritest thing.
My appointment is tomorrow at 2:30pm, PST (in case you wanna be praying at the exact moment I'll be freaking out).
Just pray this: Lord, please help it be fat.
I would appreciate it. Thanks, loves.
