Three years ago today was the worst day of my life. But I survived. Over the past 1,096 days I have ‘adjusted’ which was my word of year 1. I had to learn how to live life in a completely new way.
The second year was about ‘living’.
This past year has been about ‘becoming’.
Becoming more at peace with the unknown.
Becoming stronger, physically and mentally challenging myself.
Becoming an advocate, for ALK Positive, Inc in joining the board and doing all that I can for this community.
Becoming the mom & wife I continue to aspire to be.

I’ve grown into this version of myself slowly, and sometimes painfully, but with SO MUCH gratitude. I’m not who I was before cancer, but I’m proud of who I’m becoming through it.

It has been an incredible year in so many ways. My life insurance paid out, which was truly life-changing. Chris and I bought our first house, something I never thought would be possible after being diagnosed. I dove into advocacy, joining the board of ALK Positive, serving on the Summit Committee, Leading Young Alkies and being apart of the Local Alkies group on Southern California. I started taking steps to overcome my fear of public speaking. First with the Patient Connect talk I gave at the Genentech campus in July, and then again at another Genentech event earlier this month, in front of about 400 people.

This stage with the twins is so much fun. This past year we’ve shared some wonderful adventures together. We went to Legoland, the Santa Barbara Museum of Natural History, and the long beach aquarium. We’re planning to go to Disneyland for the first time in early December.

On the 17th, Benny and James turned three. After three years of growing out their hair, we celebrated their upsherin and gave them their very first little-boy haircuts.

Time moves so quickly — it’s hard to believe it’s already been three years. The days fly by. Between getting everyone up and out of the house, working, marketing, dinners, baths, and bedtimes — life just happens.

James is talking in full sentences now, and after a long day at preschool and work, he’ll run up to me and say, “Hi Mama, I missed you. I love you,” and melt my heart.
Benny is slower to talk, but he makes up for it with affection. There is nothing like a Benny snuggles while watching a movie or a Benny hug and kiss.

They know who I am now. The way I felt about my mom growing up is how they feel about me. Each night we sit together in the rocking chair, say the Shema, and I tuck them into bed. If someone needs something during the night, they call for me.

These are moments that, on this day three years ago, I didn’t think I’d live to see — and certainly not with this amazing quality of life.

The ironic part is that one day I’ll have to explain this anniversary, along with my diagnosis, to them. I hadn’t thought much about it until someone asked during the Patient Connect Q&A session how I plan to share it with them.

With Jack, it was a conversation, and now he’s very comfortable with it. We talk about it openly, and because my health has been stable, he doesn’t think about it much. I hope my cancer will be to the twins what my adoption was to me: something I always knew about, could always ask questions about, and could always share my feelings about.

I never want them to worry about me dying. More than anything, I just want to be here — with them, with all the Stewart boys of Passagway Place.

Looking ahead to this next year, I’m perfectly content with stability. We’ve experienced enough change for a lifetime over the past three years. I’d be happy just coasting for a while — stable jobs, stable health, stable home, stable marriage, stable family, and stable scans.

Cheers to 3 years!!! I’ve made it. And Cheers to the Hope of Many More!