"i know you are hoping it's a boy"
(hannah and caroline and the little kumquat and me)
((part two))


cancer is everywhere.

especially if you are looking for it. i don't actively try and look for it as much as i did sixth months ago, but there is still a subconscious part of me that jumps into hyper-aware mode as soon as i read or hear a story of someone struggling with some form of it.

just today, i hopped into the car heading out for a brunch and a run with a friend and i turned on espn radio hoping for some mindless analysis of the nba playoffs or some "expert" to tell me why the braves offense (heyward included) currently makes me want to hide my eyes. instead, what do i get? pat williams, gm of the orlando magic is introduced by colin cowherd's sit-in, brian kenny, and they start off with a short anecdote about pat's son running in the boston marathon yesterday. why was pat's son running in the race? because his dad his fighting something called multiple myaloma. i don't even know what that is, nor am i going to google it because i will then be sure that i, too, have multiple myaloma. pat williams, while talking about his malady, could not have been in better spirits, though. it was unbelievable. he knew he was in for a fight, he admitted it, talked about how proud he was as a dad to have his son run in his place in the marathon that he trained all of two months for (really...that's not even fair. i've been running for three months now, and i am just up to four miles.), and then they rapidly changed subjects to dwight howard and his kind-of impending free agency (he will be after next season). i was floored. i was like, keep talking about the cancer. i need you to talk about the cancer so that it can ruin my day completely. but, they didn't. they spent 90 seconds on it and then moved into exactly what i was looking for. mindless talk about sports.

closer to my life, local, i have 3 friends that have spent time in and around limbo who are in different places with their respective father's battles with the disease. matt and stephanie have been told that they are in their final days with their father here on this earth. rachel's dad is beginning his radiation therapy today. all i or anyone that cares for these people would want for them is take their dads' pain and anxiety and confusion and illness away, but we can't take it away. we are forced to sit idly by and offer our prayers and our support and hope that, in some way, it helps. (i love you, guys.)

in one of my weaker moments a couple weeks ago, i looked around and found that percentage-wise, humans have a 1 in 3 chance of fighting with some form of cancer. cancer is everywhere. if you are looking for it.

in the last couple of weeks since sarah and i officially let the kumquat out of the bag, there is one comment that has been made more often (to me, at least) than any other aside from "congratulations".

"i know you are hoping for a boy."

yeah...

i know where the comments are coming from. if i've shared the story once, i've shared it a hundred times. one of my biggest regrets with our pregnancy experience with caroline was how visibly shaken and disappointed i was when we initially found out she was a girl. for weeks leading up to that special day and ultrasound, i joked with andy and kiker about the idea of having a boy. little league. soccer. pee-wee football. star wars. bmx bikes. hot wheels. we would sit and eat ribs and wipe bbq sauce on our faces and tim allen grunt and i just knew i would have my boy that would carry on the o'kelley name and give our house some macho to balance out all the pink and flowers and gymnastics that hannah sported proudly. alas, it didn't happen. caroline was a girl and sarah didn't have to look hard or long at my face to know that i was bothered.

i am proud to say that i was only bothered for a couple days. i adjusted my expectations. i started mentally preparing for another princess and on august 23, 2007, out she came looking just like, what do you know, me! what we lost in macho-balance we did gain in "hannah looks just like you, sarah and caroline looks just like kevin." yay! i could claim one! caroline looks like me and, today, at three years-old, well, she acts just like me. she's stubborn. i mean really fucking stubborn. she's strong-willed. she's not afraid of anything other than tiny bugs. she doesn't like london on suite life on deck. and she needs the remote...at all times. she and hannah, both very much girls, are both very much my girls, and i wouldn't have it any other way.

when i hear the comment, "i know you are hoping for a boy", i hear what people are saying. they know me. they know my boy name is just waiting to be used just like it's been waiting for the last ten years. they know i'm a freak about sports. they know i would be that dad at the ballpark, but really, this go around, ...

i couldn't give a shit.

i am being honest. i don't daydream about a boy the same way that i once did. what i daydream about is health. and love. and showing my children impactful ways to affect their universe. to not be rude for the sake of being rude. to be caring. to try really hard at always doing their best. to be kind to their mommy. to learn to love guacamole. you know? the important stuff. and i can do that with a girl or a boy. it makes no difference to me.

you probably don't believe me. i don't blame you. it's a shift in the paradigm that is me. that happens, i suppose, when life reminds you of your mortality.

cancer is everywhere. if you are looking for it. and i do, still. i look for it in moments. not to let it scare me. i look to let it ground me and remind me that little league isn't as important as i once thought it was.

i no longer play church basketball or church softball "to win the game". i play to finish the game and find a lesson somewhere wrapped inside the end result.

come boy. come girl. it makes no matter.

i am praying for you, matt. and you, stephanie. and you, rachel. and your dads.

come what may.