In 2002-2003 I suffered from extremely painful ovarian cysts. I would wake up in the morning around 5 AM and jump in the shower. If I had a cyst, that is when it usually let me know of it's presence. I would get out of the shower sopping wet and soap still in my hair, just enough to open the door to lay on the floor and scream for my mom. Her presence calmed me just enough to get back into bed or head to the hospital...yet again. It was always the same tests, and the same diagnosis.
Not this day.
I actually made it to dance practice on February 24, 2003. We were conditioning really hard and the pain stabbed my lower abdomen like a knife. I ran into the locker room and screamed while thrashing on the floor. (Ya...the locker room floor. Gross I know.) My coach was there, and then I was in the nurse's room. Then my mom whisked me to the Dr. for the final time. I was in so much pain, the memory is jagged and incomplete. This was it. Surgery, tomorrow. This cyst was big, it wouldn't pop, and it had a conspicuous fluid inside that was concerning.
February 25, 2003. My mom's birthday of all days, she spent the day in the hospital with me. It was a long day. I honestly don't really remember too much of it. But this isn't the reason I'm telling you this story.
About three or four years later I get a call from my dad really early in the morning. I recognized the noises of the ER in the background and began to panic. He said "Your Mom is in the hospital. She insisted I call you. She has an ovarian cyst. She is in so much pain. On the way over all she could say was 'I can't believe Stephanie went through this. Tell her I'm sorry. I love her.' "
I have felt the love of my Mom all of my life. I have always known that she loves me and would do, and often does do everything for me. But in that moment, I cried. My mom loves me.
My Mom Loves Me.
Happy Mother's Day Mom. I love you too.