A weekend in Santa Barbara with my mom
Her thoughts on marriage, pregnancy, and life after cancer
PSA: The Drinking Games e-book has been selected for a Kindle promotion this month and is currently priced at $2.99. You can snag it at this limited price across all e-book retailers until this Sunday, 8/20! Perfect for poolside reading this weekend. ⛱
On this day 33 years ago, my mom was 33 weeks pregnant with me. And as I write this, I am 33 weeks and 6 days pregnant.
My mom and I realized early on in my pregnancy that we had the same due date – September 28th – 33 years apart. I swear this was purely coincidental (or meant to be, depending on how you look at it!). I was born a few weeks ahead of schedule on September 12, 1989, and, obviously, it still remains to be seen when my baby decides to arrive. Over the last eight months I have loved imagining my mom and I walking along the same path to motherhood exactly three decades apart. Winter, as the grizzly first trimester symptoms set in. Spring, where our energy slowly returned alongside buds forming on trees. And the final stretch: hot summer months, our bellies expanding seemingly overnight.
If you’ve read my book, Drinking Games, you already know that my mom and I have a very close relationship. She is a breast cancer survivor and is currently battling lymphedema, a disease of the lymphatic system caused by the cancer found and removed from her lymph nodes. In simpler terms: built up lymph fluid now causes painful swelling in my mom’s compromised arm. Thankfully she receives excellent medical care, but lymphedema still needs much more research, funding, and awareness. As we work to better understand this lifelong condition, we are navigating next treatment steps together, including exploring bypass lymph surgery.
I have always loved spending time with my mom – one of my most comforting childhood memories is falling asleep as I twirled her hair between my fingers – but her cancer diagnosis and subsequent health issues were major wakeup calls for me in my twenties. My drinking ramped up when she first got sick, and in sobriety I worked through a lot of my fears about her health. I still have an image of my mom as she was before her diagnosis: strong, energetic, always baking up a storm and taking care of everyone else. She still possesses all of those qualities, but this new version of her also requires more self-care and rest. While this shift was initially disorienting for me, it’s been a beautiful lesson in adapting to new norms and honoring our inner cues. In watching my mom take care of herself, it reminds me to do the same, and vice versa.
When my mom suggested we take a girls’ trip together earlier this summer, I was thrilled. I know motherhood is about to turn my routine upside down, and I loved the idea of enjoying a few relaxing days with my mom. We headed up to Santa Barbara earlier this week and spent the last few days swimming, eating, writing, reading, and talking. I try to be especially present when my mom and I spend time together, wishing I could slow down the seconds and come back to them later. But time keeps moving forward, and all I can do is try to be in it, really in it, as it’s happening.
On our first afternoon in town, we stopped for lunch at an Italian restaurant in Montecito and my mom’s eyes brimmed with tears as a Frank Sinatra song started to play. It was her parents’ wedding song, she told me, and she hadn’t heard it in years. Later that night, in our plush bathrobes, we put the song on again and danced around our hotel room together. Longer than always is a long long time, Sinatra sang, No one else could love you more.
In the spirit of slowing down and remembering important moments, I’ve been jotting down notes from my conversations with my mom these last few days. I thought I’d share some of her insights on motherhood, health, and beyond with you all. I’m so grateful for this week and for time with my mom in such a beautiful place. I hope you can enjoy time with someone you love this weekend, too.
