Today I am exactly 6 months out from my Craniotomy on March 8th, 2017. I am tempted to refer to it as the day that changed everything, but I don’t think it was one exact moment. I’ve played over and over in my head which “moment” it could be. The moment my car slipped just enough, then just enough again, than one more time, tossing me roll after roll down a snowy hill to an icy creek waiting at the bottom. The moment in the ER at 2 AM where a doctor pulled a chair up to my bed, heaved a great big sigh, and told me they found something in my brain. The moment it got really real really fast at my first appointment with my neurologist, where he sent me for an MRI immediately and asked if my insurance was active yet because, “This might be going down tonight.” The moment a month later when a Neurosurgeon told me I probably had cancer growing in my brain. The moment I laid my head down on an operating table, felt the thick sleep come on, and realized this entire room full of strangers were here to cut straight into my brain. The moment I woke up and my sight was taking a vacation, among other things. The moment the ICU nurse tried to just have me stand, and I woke up back in bed. The moments I spent in the acute rehab center, performing seemingly easy tasks like buttoning a shirt or slipping coins into a slot, and having my brain hurt from just that. The moment I got home and realized how much I loved my people and my place in this world. The moment I realized my sight was again fading and my headaches were coming back full-force. The many moments I’ve spent hoping my Doctors could fix me. And now this moment: 6 months of recovering, resting, pushing myself, curled up in pain, squinting through this blur I seem to be in more and more, on such crummy drugs that I just feel like sleeping all the time, yet sleep evades me still. Today, this moment of my life, was spent ironically in pain from an unrelenting migraine. I wasn’t able to keep down my pain meds, any caffeine, heck, even my tiny pathetic dinner came right up. But even through this, my head pounding, ears ringing, sight blurry and double, I was able to see where I am in life. I had a gut wrenching realization that I’m at the 6 month mark. The point where I should be seeing the majority of my healing. The majority of my deficits restored, my energy back to almost normal, my life healing and moving on. Instead, I spent it suffering from the toll this tumor has taken on my life. But I also spent it playing with my babies as we all woke up to a late summer sunrise. We got dressed in the camper that I remodeled and decorated for my little family, and loaded up our laundry to take to the laundromat. After starting a few loads, we washed our car, a car God was kind enough to bless my family with after our Toyota was totaled in my crash. Back to switch the laundry, then we drove down the street to the property my husband and I purchased in May, where a newly framed house was sitting. I walked down with my boys to see the progress being made on this place my husband and I solely designed. I realized through the pain, confusion, panic, unknown, and all the crazy goings-on of my brain, life moved on, and I was somehow moving on with it. Yes, my mind panics about all the issues I struggle with daily, but through that panic, trying to manage said panic, and every other struggle my family has faced this year, I also have accomplished a crazy amount these last 6 months. I’m not trying to brag about how hard of a worker I am because I’m really not. Plain and simple. I’m trying to bring light to the fact that even if your life, health, or finances (or all three) are going to pot, this doesn’t mean your life is only made up of the bad. I don’t think you have a “good” life or a “bad” life. I also don’t know about the “good” seasons or the “bad” seasons. Yeah, my year has been outstandingly crazy, but it’s been a mix of crazies. I have been a patient this entire year. I have also been a mom, a student, a designer, and a wife. I’m not about to rate how well I’ve been at those things, but I have been them. I am grateful that my life hasn’t stopped, although sometimes it feels that way, like it stopped on December 22nd and I’ve been living this nightmare and can’t wake up. But that’s simply not the truth. My life has changed rapidly, but it has changed in so many ways, good, bad, and in-between. 6 Months of so so many things, not just the brain bubble. 6 rich, fascinating, devastating, beautiful months. Here’s to 6 more!