Cards for Brianna: A Mom's Messages of Living, Laughing, and Loving as Time is Running Out

by Heather McManamy Narrated by Emily Woo Zeller

Overview

After being diagnosed in her early thirties with terminal breast cancer, Heather McManamy felt like her life was crumbling. Her "normal" vanished and was replaced with multiple surgeries and dozens of chemo treatments that could briefly extend her life, but would not prevent her inevitable death. With an effervescent spirit and a new perspective, Heather started to live each day as if it were her last. She learned to soak in the moment, appreciate the beauty around her, and celebrate her blessings. She also pondered her daughter's future journey without her mother, and gracefully prepared for it.



Heather began to write greeting cards to Brianna. Cards for her first day of school, her sixteenth birthday, her wedding day. Cards for when things were going right and when they were going wrong. Cards for when Brianna would need her mother-whether in five years or in fifty years-and Heather wouldn't be able to be there for her. Cards for Brianna is the story of one mother's powerful love for her young daughter, and Heather's unmatched experiences, laced with laughter and charm, are a reminder to never take a single day for granted.

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher

"I will be forever grateful that Heather McManamy took the time on the journey to the end of her life to share her hope and wisdom. Her bookCards for Brianna: A Mom's Messages of Living, Laughing, and Loving as Time Is Running Out, is so much more than the title reveals. It's a loving guide to people in all stages of life's adventure, a joyful reminder of the most important things to lean on — kindness, bravery, laughter and love. This book would be a wonderful gift for yourself or anyone you love." - Kathy Kinney, actress and co-author of Queen of Your Own Life

"This young mother offers all of us clear but poignant words of wisdom and humor as she passes through metastatic breast cancer Sometimes the information is as brutally honest as the chemicals put into her body. It's her matter-of-fact tone, encouraging us all to laugh, think and cry, that makes this an encouraging book." - Susan Straub, creator and director of The Read to Me Program and co-author of Reading with Babies, Toddlers and Twos

"Her intent is not to shock readers, but the filters are off... [McManamy] left behind an appreciation of life that some never get to experience." - Library Journal

"The book is filled with Heather's beautiful spirit... Most of all, Cards for Brianna is a wonderful reminder that "every day matters." - Dad Life

"Such a reality-oriented, emotionally mature approach to life is admirable in all times. That McManamy was able to hold on to it, and more, to let it flourish, throughout each stage of the cancer that ultimately killed her, is immensely inspiring. That she also wrote about it so eloquently for us to learn and profit from is a posthumous gift to the world for which we all can be deeply thankful." - The Objective Standard

"This book was very beautifully written, full of vulnerable moments and personal anecdotes from Heather's journey with cancer. This book had me laughing and crying — sometimes simultaneously. " - Bottle Poppin Mama

"This is a very touching book with plenty of pictures to add to the story. Even though it is 224 pages long, it only took hours to read. It was funny, sad and makes you realize how special life is. " - Hey Lorri

"I highly recommend this lovely book for all women because it is motivational, inspirational and made me smile!" - SoCal City Kids

"Her hope and humor will encourage readers to love a little harder." - Good Housekeeping

"McManamy's tone is uplifting, humorous and resilient throughout her book...If you plan on reading Cards for Brianna, expect to cry. But also be prepared to feel a new sense of motivation to get up and get going-to live life differently than you have before." - BookPage

"Cards for Brianna touched my heart and I could truly feel what the mother who wrote this felt. Dedicated for her her daughter and husband its full of emotion." - It's a Mom's World

"The author shares her story with pure honesty and humility and writes with a perspective that lets the reader feel they are with her during her journey. She will bring you to tears and have you laughing all in one sentence!" - Happily Ever Laughter

"Powerful memoir... revealing a woman who seized each one of her final days with a style and energy all her own. " - Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

"The book was funny and inspiring, and Heather has the same strong spirit that I would hope I would have if I faced a terminal illness." - Motherhood Moment

Library Journal

03/15/2016
A research specialist at the University of Wisconsin School of Medicine and Public Health, 35-year-old McManamy was diagnosed in 2014 with terminal cancer, despite having undergone a double mastectomy and numerous rounds of chemotherapy. She parlays her final thoughts into this book, which she hopes will comfort and motivate her soon-to-be-five-year-old daughter, Brianna. Each chapter begins with a card to mark varying occasions (first day of elementary school) and life events (Brianna's wedding). McManamy then reveals her feelings and attitudes as her prescribed time comes to an end. Her intent is not to shock readers, but the filters are off. About chemotherapy: "Seriously, it's a little strategy and a lot of luck." On preparing her daughter: "I searched Google for 'dead mom' to see what ideas would pop up." On meeting her favorite band, Mötley Crüe: "I said, 'I'm dying of cancer.' I told them what a pleasure it was to meet them while we were both on our farewell tours." McManamy died in 2015, but she left behind an appreciation of life that some never get to experience. VERDICT For all patient health collections.—Bette-Lee Fox, Library Journal

Product Details

BN ID:	2940170659722
Publisher:	Tantor Audio
Publication date:	04/12/2016
Edition description:	Unabridged

Read an Excerpt

Introduction

I loved my life. It was perfect. I was a thirty-three-year-old wife to a wonderful husband and the mother of the most beautiful little girl in the world. I had a job that I absolutely loved. We had a modest, comfortable home. Seriously, for a girl from the old working-class Milwaukee suburb of West Allis, Wisconsin-"Stallis," as we called it-I was living a dream.

But then, one evening, a bomb went off: I was lying in bed and felt a lump on my chest.

"What the hell is that?" I exclaimed to Jeff as I popped my head up. Neither of us had ever noticed it. How long had it been there? I spent the rest of the night Googling "lump on chest," trying to find any link that didn't have the word "cancer" in it.

I went to the doctor the next day; that's when the wheels started to come off. I was diagnosed with stage II breast cancer. Less than four weeks later, I had a double mastectomy. I followed that with chemo for more than a year, but it didn't work. The cancer had spread to my bones and liver. I was diagnosed as stage IV terminal, given two years at most to live.

About fourteen months after that terminal diagnosis, I was told the chemo drug I had been taking the past four months to extend my life as much as possible had been outsmarted by the cancer, bringing me a giant leap closer to my inevitable death. This was no surprise. It was my ninth different chemo, and the more that fail, the less likely subsequent ones are to work. Cancer cells eventually mutate and figure out a way to survive, and then the "smart" cells blast through your body like world-class sprinters in a hundred-meter dash. You hope you have a dumb cancer that takes a long time to determine how to get around the chemo. My cancer has proven to be very, very intelligent.

When my oncologist told me that I was terminal, he bluntly warned me what I was in for. "It'll be one heck of a roller coaster ride," he said. "You'll receive bad news after bad news after bad news. You just need to hang on tight for as long as you can."

I'm still hanging on, though sometimes down the big hills, I boldly let go and thrust my hands high into the air...because life's just more awesome that way.

As I've reflected on this wild ride of nearly three years, what has struck me most is that no matter how many bombs the cancer has dropped on me during its relentless, take-no-prisoners assault, the world has kept turning. I noticed it instantly when I went from living a "normal" life to being diagnosed and having a double mastectomy in less than a month. I was crashing and burning, yet everything and everyone around me continued moving forward. I still had deadlines at work. Bills still had to be paid. Laundry still needed to be done. My favorite TV shows kept churning out new episodes. My daughter, Brianna, and husband, Jeff, still needed me. And so, being the stubborn person I am, I decided if I ever had the chance to gain control over anything, I was going to seize it.

I powered through and got my butt out of bed when Bri called out in the middle of the night, even when I was ghastly sick from chemo. I stayed the course and hosted Bri's long-planned birthday party just days prior to my surgery. It was a Yo Gabba Gabba theme held at our home with every rambunctious two-year-old in the state of Wisconsin. As screaming toddlers strung out on sugar gleefully bounced off the walls of our house, a huge piece of me wanted to cower in the corner with fear, not knowing if it would be the last of Bri's birthdays I'd ever celebrate with her-but I couldn't do it. I guess that's what Christopher Robin meant when he so eloquently said to Winnie the Pooh, "Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." Even though life can be painfully unfair, sometimes you have the ability to fight through adversity and take back a bit of control. And in those moments when I physically couldn't take control of anything, I learned to forgive myself and turn off that critical, nasty voice in my head.

Being confronted with your mortality is hard. So hard. But by accepting the randomness of life and the possibility that anyone could be eaten by a bear tomorrow, one can gain appreciation for the tiniest things most people take for granted. I never would have thought I'd be the type to get up early to watch the sunrise. As cheesy and cliché as that sounds, it makes me sad to think that without cancer, I never would have taken the time to immerse myself in something so captivating. I can't tell you how often I cringe when I watch other people explode in anger because the line at the grocery store is too slow, a red light is taking too long to change to green, or their smartphone isn't working. If only they knew how quickly the bald mom observing them would be willing to swap grievances. I don't always assume I have it worse than others, but oh, how I want to give reality checks sometimes.

Another lesson I've learned during this ride, one I've shared multiple times with Bri, is how important it is to be kind to others. Just be nice. It's so simple, yet so many people don't do it. I'm astonished at how people's behaviors completely transform when they find out I'm dying. Why couldn't they treat me with such consideration before they knew? Everyone has their own crap in life-illnesses, financial difficulties, chronic conditions, horrible things that happen-whether it's obvious to the world or not. We all have a story, one that may have started many chapters ago and is far from being finished. Being kind to others without judgment will guarantee that you won't stick your foot in your mouth, and more importantly, you might brighten someone's day.

I will say, though, that for as many ignorant and awkward comments as I've received from store cashiers about the photo on my driver's license not matching the hairless woman standing before them ("I see you're going for a new look!"), I've also had people sincerely ask about or recognize my situation and remark that their friend is going through chemo or a family member has been diagnosed with cancer. And you know what? They just want to talk. They want to know how they can help that person they care about. They want to know how to say and do the right things.

Being genuinely open with my situation has resulted in countless people pouring their hearts out to me, including many strangers from around the world, which is pretty beautiful. When I posted on Facebook that I had bought and filled out greeting cards for Bri that would cover the rest of her life, it was meant for my friends and family to cherish. I thought it was something cool within my own world. I never imagined someone in the media would see it, or even care. Then, when a friend told me to Google "dying mom" and I found my story front and center in major publications worldwide, many in languages I didn't understand, I knew I had one more purpose to serve.

Cards for Brianna is my final creation, written from deep within my heart during the last weeks of my life as a gift for Bri, Jeff, friends, family...and you. I don't know exactly how long I have remaining, but it was nearly eighteen months ago that I was given that two-year guesstimate. Today, my failing body is telling me that was a fairly accurate prediction and that my time is almost up.

Yes, that sucks in many ways.

But you know what? It's okay. It really is.

As much as I hate cancer with every cell in my body that it hasn't killed yet, this disease has taught me the value of living, laughing, and loving each second I have before this ride comes to a complete stop. I hope Cards for Brianna reflects that philosophy and that it's as powerful for you to read as it was for me to write. I also hope, as your world continues to turn, that this book makes you smile at all of your good fortunes, helps you empathize with those who could use a little empathy, and teaches you to live-I mean truly live-each day you have left.

Videos