One of my favorite things is something I can not live with out … and that is my almost 8 year-old son, Jacob.
If you follow me on twitter, which I think you TOTALLY should (shameless plug), I’m about to unmask one of the infamous Ruiz mini-mes that grace my feed.
Ten years ago, I fought a battle that I wish on no one. I fought cancer. And I won (knock on wood, Thank God.) Part of my fight was with the help of radical, experimental chemotherapy mixed together into a potent and potentially deadly chemo cocktail. There were no fancy umbrellas with this cocktail and the side effects were potentially devastating. My dream to be a mommy may have been just that … a dream.
Almost a year after we finished Chemo, my oncologist, the ever brilliant and uber amazing Dr. Chawla, said we could start trying to have children. A couple of months later, we got pregnant! The high of being able to get pregnant met with a soul crushing miscarriage on Christmas day. I thought for sure it was because of the chemo. I thought certainly this was going to be how Mark and I spent the next few years. My brother, Patric, disagreed. He said, “Mindy, he’s just not perfect yet and he’s stubborn. He’ll get it the second time around.”
I’m not sure how Patric knew we would try again, because, at the time, I was certain I couldn’t go through the loss again.
But three months and two pink lines later we were, unintentionally, pregnant.
I held my breath for ten weeks!
On November 8th, 2003. Jacob Anthony Ruiz was born.
He still is.