8 : Count Your Blessings

Some of my entries up to this point may seem very obvious - but count your blessings when you are going through the most devastating thing ever to happen to you?  How dare I suggest a thing like that?  Don't bite my head off just yet- let me explain. It was very difficult for me to tell my parents about my situation at first.  In fact, I held it in for a number of weeks before doing so.  I was hoping all along that there would be a way we could work things out.  I worried about the added pressure it would create for our marriage if our families knew what was happening.  It reached a point, though, where I needed the support from those who cared about me most.  I called my parents and broke down over the phone as I explained to my mother what had happened.  To this day I will say that was the hardest phone call I have ever had to make in my life, and I hope nobody I care about ever has to do anything even close to that.  I can't imagine the pain that my mother felt on the other end of the line- she was physically in another state, and in utter shock at what I was telling her.  She and my dad were a living example of a strong marriage based on love, trust and mutual respect.  And I know they felt blessed that all of their kids had advanced to that of the same.  Until now.  In hearing my news, I'm sure her pain equaled (if not surpassed) my own. I don't remember everything my mother said in response, but I know she said all the right things a parent could say in that situation.  She listened, told me she loved me and reminded me she was there for me whatever I needed.  And then there was my dad.  My dad who is just a really REALLY good person.  He always does the right thing.  He lives beneath his means.  He is grounded.  Selfless.  Modest.  He has a strong faith.  He is just undeniably good.  It's my dad who has always been the practical, voice of reason in my head.  So it should come as no surprise that among all the encouraging words he gave me, the 2 things he said that stuck with me were:

It's not cancer.  It's not death.

Make no mistake, my father was devastated to hear of my situation. But my dad was also the eternal optimist.  At first it almost felt like a death, but my dad was right.  It wasn't cancer, it wasn't an actual death.  The situation was painful, but I would survive.  I had two wonderful, supportive parents who would be there for me no matter what I needed.  I had great siblings who loved me. I had more friends than I could count who would do anything for me.  I had the greatest nanny around.  I had my health.  I was employed.  Hell, I was even skinny! But most importantly, I had 2 beautiful, healthy children who loved me more than anything in the world.  I was lucky.  Even at the lowest point in my life, I knew I was lucky.