This Old Recliner

I’ve been recovering from my double mastectomy in this spot.  My sweet, protective husband had me here exclusively the first few days home from the hospital.  Away from the dogs and the children who are used to jumping on me at will.  Since I STILL have JP drains, I STILL sleep here to keep from rolling onto my side.  I have napped here, journaled here, written thank you notes here, and read and studied my bible here.  The fuzzy pink blanket – so sweetly made by a friend for me – has made sure I stay as comfortable as possible.

This chair is not fancy.  It’s not new.  It was a hand-me-down to my husband from his parents before he ever met me.  And we have been married over 18 years.  Even though the leather bears some scars now, it still gets the job done.

It didn’t occur to me until I had been home from the hospital for about a week that this chair has a special connection with me and my mammaries.  (Some of you are probably thinking I’ve shared too much now.  I apologize, but I promise the memories are not graphic).  I nursed both of my babies in this chair.  When you don’t lift the footrest up to recline, this La-Z-Boy rocks.  So I kept an ottoman at the edge of the chair to prop my feet on and gently push off of to rock my girls.  First Shelby, who looked like a porcelain doll and had seizures that scared this brand new mommy out of her mind.  I cherished these peaceful times when she would eat, and we would rock.  Then Allie came almost 5 years later after I finally pushed past the fear of having another child with epilepsy.  She was so full of life, and still so sweet to nurture.  As sleep deprived as I was, I even cherished middle of the night feedings.

How fitting that this chair supports me once again.  The breasts that nourished my girls for almost a year each have been removed along with the cancer that tried to hide in them.  And they have been replaced with reconstructed ones that look different and feel different.  And yet no matter what pain or uncertainty I have encountered this day, I get to rest in that old, familiar chair.