If you know me personally, you are probably aware that I hate crying. That’s not to say I’m a person that hates feelings. Crying just seems like a waste of energy sometimes, at least when I do it. It leaves me drained. However, I’ve noticed that I get to close crying a lot more often now. Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking. A life-threatening diagnosis will do that to anyone. While that is most definitely true, the funny thing is I don’t typically get emotional because I’m scared or sad about dying too soon or leaving my family. Those things do make me sad but I find myself crying more when I’m feeling a happy emotion.

I spent this past weekend watching my girls play in an all girls hockey tournament. It was quite the whirlwind. Tying skates and helping put on gear, supporting Coach Daddy, packing snacks, filling water bottles, cheering in the stands… It was a lot. And, despite how exhausted I felt once it was all done, I wouldn’t have traded it for anything. I sat in the stands after the last buzzer went off at the end of their final game and I cried.

I didn’t cry because they lost. I didn’t cry because I couldn’t feel my toes. I cried because that is another memory I was able to be a part of. My girls knew their Mom was in those stands, cheering them on and watching them do what they love. I cried because I’m still here. I still have the privilege of being a part of my kids’ lives and I was the proudest damn Mommy there today. And I can’t wait for the next tournament.

Maybe crying isn’t always bad. I just have to make sure my 8 year old doesn’t see me or I’ll get the eye roll. The tween years have arrived early. I think that might scare me more than the cancer some days. But I can’t wait to weather that storm alongside our fearless Coach Daddy. It’s just another privilege I’m lucky enough to experience.