Dear PICU (or CVICU or NICU or any other ICU) Mama, You are a Warrior. When a child is critically ill or injured, it is impossible to describe the suffocating feelings of helplessness, fear, and frustration that rip through a mother. Beyond that, it is impossible to describe how the experience will change your identity. … Continue reading Dear PICU Mama, You are a Warrior.
Not too long ago, Jake turned and looked at me, with a serious expression across his face, and he told me I had changed. That’s not exactly what a wife wants to hear, you know. It’s an ominous, loaded statement. We were at a stoplight, discussing an upcoming surgery I would be having. I had … Continue reading Better.
I hate when I get in these moods. After our last miscarriage, as most people who know me (or have read my blogs) know, I saw a grief therapist for a little while, mainly because I wanted to know that the way I deal with loss is healthy. Little did I know how important that … Continue reading Floating.
In a perfect world, I would not have overslept this morning, rolling out of bed in a panicked frenzy to get dressed as my concerned mom (my son's caretaker for the day) came inside through the garage door, calling helllloooo y'all, realizing from the dark rooms that we must still be in bed. In a … Continue reading In a perfect world.
Back in mid-June, Jake and I took an anniversary trip up to the mountains and spent the week kayaking and paddleboarding on the lake, just the two of us. Makinzy was busy with the first of three weeks of volleyball camps this summer, and he and I stole away to just relax. I gave blogging … Continue reading And then there were 4. Or 5. Or 9. Whatever the number, we just added one more…
I've been dreading writing about today. I've dreaded talking about today. I've dreaded just living today. She would have been one year old today. A whole year old. I was running through the halls, rushing to the delivery room, a panicked phone call that labor was starting... it was a year ago, a little after ten … Continue reading Sorrow and Celebration.
My journey to motherhood didn’t involve 9 months of pregnancy and a joyous delivery, but like all mamas, the first night I held my daughter, I felt that fierce surge to protect her at all cost surge through me. When we adopted Mak at seven years old, there were already so many things I didn’t … Continue reading Mama’s protection.