Against this backdrop, I was continuing to focus on getting seven hours in bed (with all the time zone changes that didn't equate to seven hours of sleep, but I was at least horizontal), exercising regularly, keeping in touch with friends, staying involved in my church, serving my coaching clients, and being open to the huge influx of new client inquiries that have come in.
When you work in a field like pediatric oncology you learn more about grief and loss than you're prepared for. It's inevitable, an occupational hazard of sorts. There have been too many families I've seen decimated by loss. It's hard. It's painfully hard. That hard has changed my life in ways that are profound and frightening.
Midway through my maternity leave, my daughter was asleep in her bouncer as my son and I laid on our backs on our trampoline, looking up through the leaves into the sky. I remember thinking at that moment how many times my own mother must have sat in this very backyard and watched my brother and me play.