Friends and French Toast

Time: Saturday morning, 9 am
Weather: crisp, cold, 36F with some overcast
Trail: soft surface, well maintained, great trail. The one that loops around the wetlands refuge area.
Baggage: None

No baggage? Nope, the friend that slogged with me makes me feel so right, so totally at peace in my world, that even the extra pounds seem to disappear. She is certainly essential to me, but as she carries her own self so well, she can hardly be described as baggage. Or perhaps we are each other's baggage... what I'm sure of is that it all evens up in the end. All I carried was the auto key fob for the car... not even the cell phone.

DH kept all our (3) beautiful children safe and fed while we slogged for about an hour. I have to admit it was more talking than running... but some, slow running happened along the river. Okay, it was about my usual pace, but my friend's femurs are about 3 inches longer than mine... she can walk at the pace I "run." As she demonstrated. Did I mention that I love her and that it's a good thing that I do, 'cause she's obnoxious?

Apparently, local convention is to ignore the "dogs on leash only" signs on Saturday mornings. This works for me. We got to stop frequently to greet dogs big, small, wet and merely moist.

And then we drove home and opened the door to toys everywhere, constant giggles from all three kids (ages 10, 5 and 2), and the smell of french toast and bacon. Mmmm, bacon.

What a great morning.

We spent most of the rest of the day in a shopping marathon. It's odd to me that the aisles for things like birth control and menstrual products make me cringe a bit. They aren't just aisles of stuff I don't use (like the automotive section.) They remind me of how my body has changed, post cancer. Right now, that reminder causes some pain, even some shame. As though I am less a woman (to myself) than I was before.

Lucky for me, this same lovely friend, who saw me through infertility and adoption angst, has told me for years "You are more than just your uterus!" As her mother just died from the same type of cancer that isn't killing me, this carries some extra weight now. I am more than my reproductive ability to her, to my family, to anyone that matters.

And the fact of my infertility, now total, does color my relationships with my husband, daughter, parents and myself. It does. Because it's part of my story, because it made adoption necessary once and will again if we decide to have more children. Because we'll never have sex again while hoping for / welcoming a baby. Because my parents will never see their genetic material propagated into the next generation.

All of that is true. And none of it matters to the people who love me. Not as much as my continuing presence in their lives. I know that. It's one of the reasons I opted for an immediate hysterectomy, though the oncologist offered the option of waiting and trying for pregnancy before treating the cancer. Because I am more than my uterus. My relationship with my daughter is about far more than her adoption.

So I'll run again tomorrow morning, at little faster pace. I'll probably have my daughter and dog with me, and all of their stuff. I'll probably feel all of those extra pounds again, plus a couple more contributed by my special pecan baked french toast. But I'll be out there.