My Job Ad

pexels-photo-533444As I make my way through hundreds of job postings a day during my job hunt, I’ve been thinking about my current role, which I’d describe as an accidental stay at home mom. I didn’t plan to stay home past a year but finding a good job that’s worth leaving my little guy for isn’t an easy task, so in the interim, here I am.

I feel really fortunate to be at home with my amazing son, and I thank my lucky stars for him every day. But holy guacamole, this is by FAR the most exhausting, demanding job I’ve ever had. Babies are one thing, but toddlers are a whole different ballgame.

I’ve been thinking about how my role as a mom would look when laid out as a job description and what I came up with made me once again realize how totally bananas it is to be a parent, especially one who does it around the clock. So without further delay, here is my job ad. And if anyone is looking to take over my role and let me nap for the next month, feel free to get in touch.


Hello! Are you a natural self-starter who loves a challenge? Then boy oh boy, do we have the job for you!

Here’s a breakdown of some of the things you’ll be doing:

Reading the same book about cars and trucks up to 25 times per day

Playing with cars and trucks for multiple hours a day

Listening and remaining calm as your toddler throws fits of rage while ignoring your desire to scream even louder than he is

Extensive dishwashing

Frequent trips to the grocery store and return trips upon realizing you forgot everything you needed

Preparing meals every 2-3 hours, half of which will not be eaten or thrown on the floor

Singing ‘Wheels on the Bus’ and ‘If You’re Happy and You Know It’ up to 2,000 times per day

Changing 4-8 diapers a day with varying contents

Driving and walking in inclement weather to various activities filled with other toddlers, most of whom are sick  and want to lick your child

Getting poked, scratched, and bitten

Other miscellaneous duties such as: bathing, dressing, nail clipping, doctor’s appointments, music classes, counting, teaching the alphabet, dancing, hugging, chasing, crawling, wiping tears, wiping snot, administering medicine, etc.

Qualifications:

Heavy lifting throughout the day up to 30 lbs (or more if you choose to lift tiny human and stroller and diaper bag simultaneously) and constant bending and crouching in uncomfortable positions

Must be comfortable working with horrific smells and toxic waste

Ability to survive and thrive on minimal hours of sleep

Ability to accept your house looks like a bomb went off and will for the next 18 years

Ability to adapt to constant change in a high-stress environment with no guidance or feedback, except from random strangers on the internet, most of whom are just as clueless as you are

Comfortable having your entire existence controlled by a tiny person who doesn’t know how to wipe their own butt

No experience required. We like to just throw you right in the deep end and cross our fingers you don’t drown!

What do we offer?

One break between 30-90 minutes per day (note: 90 minutes is rare and zero minutes is always a possibility). You can use these breaks to quickly make and eat a sandwich, go to the bathroom in private, or research how to make your child nap for longer than 40 minutes

Ability to wear mismatched clothing, sweatpants, or pajamas all day. We encourage you to change your outfit daily but this is not a requirement

Unparalleled moments of happiness and joy that will take your breath away

Meaningful purpose and unconditional love

Unfortunately we cannot offer any vacation time, personal days, or sick days.

***Please note that the hours for this position are unpredictable and vary widely. Between 13-24 hours a day is expected. Average start is 5AM. Weekend work is mandatory.

Salary: This is a volunteer position and you will not be paid. Sorry, sucker!

5 things not to say to new moms

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People love to offer tidbits of wisdom when you’re a first time mom. For the most part, these folks mean well and think they’re helping. But there are a few phrases that almost never help and in fact, they can be quite harmful – especially to those of us dealing with postpartum depression. At first I was thinking of a “What Not to Say to a Mom with PPD” list, but then I realized that A) some of these sayings may cause stress and anxiety to any new mom, regardless of her mental health status, and B) you may not even know that the mom you’re speaking to has PPD in the first place since a lot of women don’t speak about it. So in conclusion, I’d say you’re safe to follow these tips with all new moms you might know. Better safe than sorry when it comes to rubbing a hormonal, sleep-deprived, overwhelmed young mother the wrong way.

And so, without further ado, here are my Five Things You Shouldn’t Say to a New Mom.

1. Enjoy every second.

A lot of people tack this sentiment onto their good wishes. “Congrats on your new addition. Enjoy every second!” Seems harmless, right? NOPE!

First off, if there’s a mom out there who enjoys every single second of being a new parent, I’d like to meet her. And then I’d like to hook her up to a lie detector and watch as the machine goes bananas, because SUCH A PERSON DOES NOT EXIST. Even if you’re having a generally swell time with your newborn, at some point, you’re not going to enjoy it. You’ll get barf in your hair and poop on your face. These things aren’t enjoyable.

For moms with postpartum depression, being told you should enjoy every second is like a knife through the heart. It hurts. You already feel miserable, and guilty that you feel so miserable. You don’t need everyone telling you you should be doing a happy dance every time your little one screams for you at 3AM. Which leads me to the next thing I often hear that gets under my skin…

2. They’re only little for so long. Enjoy the extra snuggles!

Whenever a mom cries out that she’s exhausted because her baby only wants to sleep on her and she can’t get any rest that way, well-meaning people love to jump in and tell her how precious this time is and to soak it all up because one day her kid will be an ungrateful teenager and she’ll long for those early days. GAH. Not helpful! If a mom is looking for advice on how to improve her situation, and you just tell her to enjoy it instead, you’re completely ignoring her request and plea for help. She knows that this chapter in her kid’s life won’t last forever and that baby snuggles are wonderful, in theory. But she wants some goddamn sleep.

Offer to hold her baby while she rests, or lend her your magical sleep-inducing baby swing, or say/do whatever you think will help her. But don’t make her feel like she’s a bad mom for wanting a moment here or there where she can roll onto her stomach. Or go to the bathroom. Or do absolutely anything without a human attached to her.

3. Stop worrying so much. The baby feeds off your emotions.

Telling someone with anxiety not to be anxious is of zero help. Can you tell someone with cancer not to have cancer, and then it just instantly disappears? If that were the case, my life would have been a hell of a lot easier. Postpartum depression and anxiety is a mental illness. You can’t just tell someone not to have it, or not to feel a certain way. It’s not that simple. Not only that, but telling a mom that her emotions are going to negatively affect her child is a bad idea. You mean on top of worrying about my sanity, I now have to worry about messing up my kid as well? Thanks for putting a cherry on top of my guilt-filled sundae.

4. Sleep when the baby sleeps.

If you’re a mom, you’ve definitely heard this one before. And sure, it makes sense. When your baby sleeps, you drop everything and sleep, because otherwise you’ll never sleep. Easy peasy. EXCEPT IT’S NOT. Because when your baby sleeps, there are a million trillion zillion things to do that you can’t do when you’re tending to your baby. This is often when the rest of life happens, like ordering useless shit on Amazon that you’ve decided you need, answering an email, going to the bathroom, making a sandwich, cleaning the dozens of baby bottles in your sink, and washing all the barf and poop out of the sheets. Not only that, but not everyone is able to just fall asleep at the drop of a hat, the instant the baby is asleep. I’m not. And being told I needed to sleep constantly, by everyone, only made my anxiety that much worse — which in turn, made it impossible for me to sleep. Moms know that they need to sleep at some point in order to stay alive. You don’t need to tell them this.

5. You’ll know exactly what your baby needs. You’re their mama!

New moms are often told that they’ll know what their baby wants because they have a sixth sense built in that gives them an innate understanding of their child’s needs. I remember hearing/reading things like, “Your baby might be crying because he’s hungry, or tired, or sick. You know your baby best. Trust your gut!”

So you’re telling me I’ve known this thing for 24 hours, and I’m supposed to be able to tell the difference between a “I want more milk” cry versus a “I’m sick please take me to the nearest hospital” cry? THIS MAKES NO SENSE. And assumes that a mother is instantly bonded to her baby, which puts a lot of pressure on new moms who are raging with hormones and might not be feeling all that connected just yet.

My son is 14 months old, and I still often don’t know what he wants/needs/feels. Telling a mom that her spidey sense will kick in and she’ll instantly know all the answers is a load of poo-poo (yes, I only speak in baby terms now).

And there you have it! Five things not to say to the new mothers in your life. So what should you say? Try:

Congratulations!
That’s the cutest baby I’ve ever seen! (note: it’s okay to lie for this one.)
Being a mom is hard. You’re doing a great job.
Hang in there. It gets easier.
I’m here if you want to talk.
I’d love to come for a quick visit. Let me know when you’re ready.
Can I pick up some groceries for you?
I’m happy to wash all those dishes sitting in your sink.

And if all else fails, cook her a meal, or bake her a treat, and leave it at the door because chances are she has no time to fend for herself when she’s so busy enjoying every minute and sleeping when her baby sleeps.

The Mommy Files

It has taken me far too long to write this post. This is mainly due to the fact that back in November, I had a baby, and apparently newborns take up every minute and every hour of your life. I mean, EVERY. MINUTE. I have sat down to write so many times, and then a poo emergency strikes, or a cry is heard, or I realize I haven’t gone to the bathroom in 12 hours, and I quickly forget about any prior ambitions I had.

Besides the overwhelming, drastic life change that is motherhood, I have also put off writing anything because my will and energy hasn’t been there. Not too long after I gave birth to the most special little guy in the universe, I was diagnosed with postpartum depression and anxiety. Things got bad. Reeeeal bad. My goal every day was to just make it through and get to the next day, and pretty much everything else, including writing, fell to the wayside. But I believe that writing and sharing helped me through another very challenging time in my life (as you may recall), so I’ve been meaning to get to it.

There are so many things I want to say about the last (almost) three months, and so many thoughts I have on parenting/babies/postpartum, that I don’t think I can cover it all in one post. It will probably take much more than one post, so feel free to stick with me if you’re interested in reading about this stuff. One thing I have learned through all this is that there are many new moms who have experienced or are experiencing what I’m going through. Although everyone’s story is unique, many of us share a lot of the same challenges. And yet so few are openly talking about it. I have my theories on why this might be, but I’ll get to that later. It feels similar to my cancer experience, in a weird way, where it felt like I was going through this huge thing that many people just didn’t talk about openly and honestly. And I get it. It’s hard to open up about our personal struggles. It leaves us vulnerable, and exposed.

With cancer, there was so much pressure to be positive and sunshine-y, and with motherhood, there is a lot of pressure to be the very best mom and be happy and perfect and proclaim that every moment is just full of joy and rainbows and wonderful, cute baby things. Welp, I am once again here to burst your bubble and drop some truth bombs all over the internet, if you care to join me. Because, guess what? Motherhood is VERY HARD. And being a new mom while you’re also, unfortunately, dealing with mental health issues is super hard. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and I’ve literally had cancer.

So where to even start, with so much to say? I suppose, as is often the case, the best place to start is at the beginning. My birth story. The day my life, once again, changed forever. But you’ll have to hang tight, because my baby is about to wake from his semi-peaceful slumber and duty calls. Stay tuned…

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My hope for future young women with breast cancer

 

I always took it for granted that I would, someday, have children.

I never grappled with the decision of whether or not motherhood was for me, or thought of what my life might be like without kids. I made mental notes of my favourite baby names, and imagined what they might look like. After meeting and marrying my husband, the desire to start a family grew stronger. Maybe she’ll have his eyes and my mouth, I thought. I hope he gets my husband’s athletic ability, and not mine. I dreamed and planned and let my mind wander to a future that I thought was secure.

I made an appointment with my doctor, thinking maybe we’d broach the subject of stopping my birth control pill. I felt nervous and giddy at the thought. How did I get here? Was I really ready for this? What if there was a problem?

And then, there was a problem.

A week before my doctor’s appointment, I found a lump in my breast.

I changed the purpose of the appointment to talk about boobs instead of babies. And after several tests and a couple weeks of waiting, I received the diagnosis. Breast cancer. I had just celebrated my 28th birthday and had been married for less than a year. And, ironically, I did end up coming off my pill, but not for the reason I had intended; rather, the breast cancer I had was fueled by estrogen (a main ingredient of the birth control pill), so I was told to immediately stop taking it. No more pill. But no baby either. To say things were not going according to plan would be a massive understatement.

In the same conversation where I learned I had an invasive, aggressive breast cancer, I also learned that the chemotherapy I’d need to undergo could cause fertility issues. Major double whammy.

At first anything other than the fact that I might die seemed inconsequential. But after taking some time to process everything and meeting with a fertility specialist, the reality set in that there was now a possibility I’d never have children. I was devastated.

I considered undergoing fertility preservation treatment and went through the initial steps, but ultimately pulled out at the eleventh hour due to timing factors, enrolling myself in a clinical trial, and not being comfortable at that point with injecting hormones into my body. We decided to accept the risks, and hope for the best.

Now I am two and a half years past my diagnosis, and my baby-making clock is ticking once again. Time to get a move on, right?

Not so fast.

Because my cancer was hormone-sensitive, I need to take a drug called Tamoxifen that is proven to reduce the risk of the cancer returning and possibly spreading to another part of my body. The newest recommendation is to stay on this drug for 10 years. Great news, right? A drug that could actually help keep me alive. I am lucky to have that option.

Unfortunately, hormonal therapy for cancer comes with a whack of side effects. The biggest one for me is that I’ve been told not to get pregnant while taking it, due to its potential to cause birth defects.

I am 30 years old now and have been taking Tamoxifen for almost two years. If I stay the course of 5-10 years, and take into account my chemo-aged ovaries… well, you can do the math.

So now I find myself again in a sticky situation, forced to make another difficult decision on top of the ones I’ve already had to face. (Fertility presevation? Double or single mastectomy? Radiation? Reconstruction? Cancer has a way of forcing you to be decisive.)

The way I usually make my decisions is to do read up on all the research and literature I can possibly find. But in this case, there are no studies assessing the risk of pausing hormonal therapy to get pregnant. Zilch! As Dr. Susan Love writes, “We are frequently asked what would happen if a woman stopped taking tamoxifen between two years and five years, and the truth is that we just don’t know because we have no studies that have looked at that question. …Because there is no data to support stopping early, this has to be a personal decision, and it is undoubtedly not an easy decision for many women to make.”

I constantly toss scenarios around in my head, playing out the various possibilities. What if I continue treatment, and by the time I’m done, I’ve missed my window to get pregnant? What if I stop taking my pill, get pregnant, and I end up dying and not being able to raise the kid I just had? What if I take a break, get pregnant, go back on Tamoxifen and we all live happily ever after? (Obviously this third scenario is the one I cross my fingers for.)

In my case, these are the cards I’ve been dealt, and I won’t be able to get the answers I need by the time I need them. But the really good news is that young women with breast cancer in the future will have the data they need to make an informed decision.

The POSITIVE ‘Baby Time’ trial will investigate if interrupting hormonal (endocrine) therapy to get pregnant increases the risk of breast cancer recurrence. This is the exact study that, had it been done ten years ago, I might not find myself in the situation I’m in right now.

I’m so excited and proud that Rethink Breast Cancer is committing to funding the Canadian arm of this international trial. They need to raise a lot of money to make this happen, so please give generously! Your contribution will make a huge difference to so many young women who one day may be walking the same path I’m on. And let me tell you, anything that can make that journey even a little bit easier, is worth doing.

And as for me, I’m not sure where my choices might lead me, or how this story will end. But I have hope. Hope that I’ll have the family I wanted, hope that I’ll live to see that family grow, and hope that pregnancy will be a possibility for all those young women who follow behind me in the years to come.

There is always hope.

Another part of the story

Besides a minor mention here and there, I have never really written about fertility and cancer — specifically, my fertility and my cancer. I’ve had numerous reasons why I didn’t want to write about it: feeling that it was too personal and private, something only to be discussed by me and my husband, or worrying about friends who are moms or soon-to-be-moms feeling they can’t talk about anything baby-related in front of me. But I’ve come to realize that by not writing about it, it sometimes puts me in uncomfortable or awkward situations, which other people likely aren’t even aware of. And why should they be? I don’t talk about it, so their ignorance is really my own doing. I also know that a lot of people read my blog as a way to educate themselves about how it feels to have cancer, especially as a young person, and by not broaching the very important issue of cancer and fertility, I’m not doing a really great job as cancer teacher.

So, here we are. And I am ready to talk about it. Or at least, some of it.

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 28, one of the first things my doctor told me was that she wanted me to see a fertility specialist immediately, since certain cancer treatments can have a negative effect on one’s fertility. This is one of the very major issues facing young adult cancer patients, and unfortunately, it is often overlooked. I have heard countless stories of young men and women who were thrust into cancer treatment, without their fertility being discussed. This is a huge problem, and one I think all young people and all doctors should be aware of. So in that regard, I was very fortunate that both my family doctor and oncologist had discussions with me about how my treatment might impact the potential for me to have children.

Learning that my ability to have children might be compromised on the same day as learning that I had cancer was a major double whammy. It was a tough pill to swallow, when I was already considering the possibility that I might not even live long enough to start a family in the first place. Most people who get cancer are quite a bit older, and don’t have to deal with such things. But unfortunately for me, and for my husband, we had to deal with it, and fast.

The same week that I was meeting with breast surgeons, trying to decide if I should remove one breast or two, I was also meeting with a fertility specialist to discuss my options. To say I was a bit overwhelmed would be a wild understatement. I had tons of information coming at me from every angle, and very little time to make decisions that would greatly affect my future. It was kind of a shitty week, you might say.

The fertility specialist did various tests and exams, where my husband and I learned that, yep, we were indeed fertile. Yippee. Too bad I was about to shoot my body full of drugs that could potentially ruin all that.

There are specific chemotherapy drugs that are known to have a damaging effect on fertility. Unfortunately, I had to get one of them. This was not an option. You can’t get pregnant if you’re not alive (lesson of the day!), so staying alive was my first priority, above and beyond everything else. And sadly, in the world of cancer, the best proven method of doing this is often by poisoning yourself.

We were given the option of retrieving embryos, which we could then “store” for  the future, if needed. At first, this seemed like a good solution. An insurance policy, in case the worst case scenario became a reality. (A very, very expensive insurance policy, mind you, as these procedures aren’t covered in Ontario for cancer patients.) With barely any time to think about it, it seemed like the smart thing to do. I got a bunch of prescriptions for shots I would need to give myself and a million consent forms that needed to be signed, and we were off to the races. At least, that was the initial plan.

As I began doing more research about the hormones I would have to take, despite some limited studies showing it was safe, I started to feel uncomfortable by the idea of messing with my hormones, especially when I have a hormone-sensitive type of cancer. It felt risky, especially when knowing that a) we might not even need the embryos and b) if we did need them, there’s not even any guarantee that the procedure would work. In many cases, it doesn’t.

I was also presented with the option of joining a clinical trial, where I could potentially receive a drug that could benefit me, targeting my specific type of cancer. If I chose to do the fertility preservation, there was a good chance the start of my chemo would have to be pushed, and I might not qualify for the trial.

To top it off, the thought of injecting myself with hormones and dealing with potential side effects from that and having to undergo the egg retrieval, at the same time as being in tremendous pain from my double mastectomy with immediate reconstruction and gearing up to start chemo… well, it became less and less appealing.

One night, I was filling out the form where we had to decide what to do with the embryos if we ended up not needing them. Would we donate them to another couple? Give them to research? Have them destroyed?

Suddenly, it all just felt like too much. It felt like I was doing what I thought I should do, rather than what my gut was really telling me to do.

After expressing my concerns to my husband, he admitted to having the same concerns too. We discussed it some more, and then came to our final decision that we were going to put the brakes on the preservation process, and have faith that things would work out for us. Dealing with the cancer felt like more than enough for us to have on our plate at that time. So with that, we put 100% of our focus into making me healthy. I joined the trial, began my treatment, and tried to push thoughts of babies and pregnancy far out of my mind.

None of this has been easy. I remember being so angry that I had to make such hideous choices. I shed a lot of tears, cursing cancer for destroying my dreams. I have wanted to have children since I was a child myself. Anyone who knows me knows this fact about me. We had hoped to have a mini S or mini J pretty much… right now. But cancer decided to show up and derailed the plans and the future we had envisioned for ourselves. At least for now.

So where does that leave me now? I am not quite sure. It is not really possible to tell what effects the chemo had on my fertility, since I’m taking a drug which messes with my hormones. And, to top it all off, I am not allowed to be pregnant while taking said drug… which I am supposed to be taking for a minimum of 5 years, and possibly 10. Or, I have the (not medically-approved) option of coming off of it early, which there are NO good studies to support, and possibly increase my risk of having the cancer come back and not surviving. So my big decisions are not over. Not even close.

It is hard seeing people around me getting pregnant and having their babies turn into toddlers. It is hard seeing photos posted at every hour of the day. I’m fairly certain anyone who has wrestled with any type of fertility issues can relate on that one. We live in a very baby-centric world, especially when you are my age. It ain’t easy. (Although I make myself feel better constantly by thinking of the vacations and nights out my husband and I can take whenever we please, and our ability to sleep in on the weekends as late as we wish. We often say “If we had a kid right now, we couldn’t be doing x,y, or z.” It makes me feel better… for a moment, at least.) If anything, this whole ordeal has made me much more sensitive and empathetic toward couples who are experiencing infertility problems.

I do have a lot of hope for our future, and our family. I know, regardless of fertility issues, there are options. I like to think that all of this sad stuff will eventually lead to somewhere happy. I need that hope, and I hang on to it.