Cancer and a newborn: what’s it like?

If you’re the type of human who packs for a 10 day trip the morning of the trip … 10 minutes before you need to leave for the airport. This blog isn’t for you. We are not the same.

If you, instead, begin travel prep a month or so in advance, hi. Welcome. Glad you’re here.

Listen, I am all about hopping in my car and heading west within a moments notice, but I’m a grown woman now and have responsibilities. So, for me, it looks a little like this:

A month out, plus:
Research, book tickets, book accommodations. Schedule the dogs for the groomer and the dog boarder, ensure we have proper childcare, dig in to get ahead on all work projects, schedule someone to clean the house while we’re gone because this is a luxury and returning to a destroyed house will cancel out any relaxation that would happen on said trip. Inventory everything that will absolutely run out while you’re gone and stock up.

The week of:
Laundry, packing for you, packing for others, a trip to the store for needed items, packing for the kiddo, googling if we should have a power of attorney on file for our childcare provider incase the kiddo needs to go to the doctor.

Day before/day of:
Drop dogs off at the boarder, drop of kiddo with childcare (and all her things), do the dishes, clean out the fridge, take out the trash, log last minute billable hours on work project.

Still with me?

Cancer treatment with a child feels like this every day. You’re always preparing to go on a trip. It could be the hospital, or it could be heaven.

It’s heavy, you know?

Your brain is in a constant whirlwind of password management, trusts, if your husband knows what to do when your newborn hits puberty, deductibles, sharing how to look for next year’s summer clothes during end-of-summer sales, considering writing a letter to your newborns step-mom … you know, just in case.

I’m not sure when - or if - this feeling subsides. Or if it’s part of being a mom.

The truth is I only know what it’s like to be a mom and deal with cancer. I don’t have the luxury of seeing it through a different perspective.

Cheering for you -

B.