Today I looked at you and cried. I watched the clown paint the dolphin on your face and cried. You are so incredibly beautiful and so full of life. I don't know if you realize how amazing you are. How you are changing every day! You have grown into a good kid. You were demanding as far back as I remember and you challenged everything I asked of you. But, although you have your moments, you have evolved. You are such a ray of light in my life.

I want to be here. I want to be here when you finally have real boobs. I want to cringe when you're bitchy with PMS. I want to eavesdrop on your phonecalls with boys to make sure you're acting like a girl and not a woman. I want to go shopping and do lunch with you and get our nails done. I want to be here when that first boy breaks your heart and eat ice cream with you and badmouth him.

I want you to have your mommy, always, when you need me.

I'm Sorry, G-d

"Believe in G-d," the receptionist tells me. She looks at my chart
and says my name, "Helene." She tells me she's going to remember my
name and pray for me tonight. I decide that it's very sweet but if
she mentions Jesus I'm going to punch her in the face. I never
would, but I think it.

"I'm sorry," I say to nobody, out loud. "I'm sorry." I keep hearing
it in my head and in turn repeat it over and over. "I'm sorry, I'm
sorry, I'm sorry."

I'm sorry G-d. I'm sorry for whatever I did. I don't know what I
did, but I'm sorry. I'll be good. I'll eat good from now on. I
won't make fun of people. Please.

"I love her so much," is my next rant. "I love her." Please, G-d,
my baby needs me. I love her so much and I can't leave her. It's
never been better. She's growing up and she's listening and she's
fun and she's my world and she makes me smile.

"Bullshit!" I decide that's it. I don't have to take it. This
just won't work. I don't have time. I'm busy at work, I have two
vacations planned and I have men that I don't want to know, who call
me every day. I'm going to Cancun. I don't care. This will just
have to wait.

"I'll eat the damn berries and nuts." I plan to call a nutritionist
tomorrow. There's those people who have fought this with nuts and
berries and herbs and vitamins and I'll do it if I have to. I won't
take this lying down.

"I'm sorry," I've returned to chanting. "Bullshit!" There's
nothing to be sorry about, why would he say that. We won't know
anything until Monday. Dr. C didn't say "I'm sorry." Dr. C said to
take the tests, and this is very uncommon and it's unlikely to
happen again after being in remission for 10 years.

I analyze and compromise with the nobody sitting beside me in the
car. Well if it hasn't changed in a month, it probably won't for
awhile. I can wait 2 months. I can take my vacations, run the big
project at work and get my promotion, then slowly end the
relationships with the men and then take care of what needs to be
done. I do this as if I know better than them and it's up to me.

Nothing to do. Again, like that horrible unknowing weekend, 10
years ago, I can do nothing but wait. 3 days until the test. 2
days after that for results. That's it.

Life must go on. I still had to come home and clean up dog poop off
the carpet. I still had to put Rachel in the shower and give a
practice spelling test and plan for the weekend and for Survivor
night. I still need to hang the laundry and do the dishes. I still
need to get the online seminar handled. I still have to live. I'm
still alive.