It is what it is

by

The Family Feels

I have had this post in my draft for a couple weeks. Tom is feeling much better, so I pondered whether I should post it. I didn’t want to make what was happening to Tom about me. However, as I kept rereading my thoughts during this time, I wondered if others would resonate who have had to be the caretaker. When there is a medical crisis, there is more affected than just the person in the center. And as it should be, the focus often is on the person going through the medical situation, but the family is very much in the thick of it. Many folks have asked how we have been navigating this, so I figured I would share how it has been for me and the kids through Tom’s health journey. It’s a lot more than what you would get if you asked me in person, so I hope that you are ready for more than, “We are making it and surviving.”

In short, the kids are resilient as all get out. They have been real troopers through all of this. I feel like we have been appropriately transparent with them. Tom’s decline was very apparent, so it was not something we could ignore with them. Because Tom has been an active dad, his bedrest and symptoms could not be hidden. So we have had to be honest with them over the last few months. There were many days where our nightly or weekend plans had to shift suddenly to get Tom to the hospital. I hate that they had to get use to us just dropping everything with an unknown return time/date. So because his health was unavoidable to see, we did have some very hard conversations about his health.

We talked about doctors, medicine, and yes we talked about death. Tom and I decided that we did not want the kids to be blindsided if something dire were to happen, so we wanted to be sure we kept them updated as the days, weeks, and months went on. Again, we tailored it to our kids, and gave them space to feel feelings and ask questions. We have tried all along to be open with our kids, and we felt it would be untrue to who we were to keep them in the dark.

For the most part they have taken things like champs. They haven’t complained about our lost vacation or other summer plans. They have taken on different responsibilities when asked. I have had several conversations with them about how we are a team, and sometimes that means we have to do more when a teammate cannot. While some of those moments have not been my proudest, and I may have guilt-tipped them into better behavior because I was going at it solo, they really have been rock stars. They really have stepped up to fill a need as best as their young souls could do.

It hasn’t been all roses, and we have tackled more emotions and dynamics in parenting than I figured we would in the first decade of this journey.

Wally is our wildest three year old. His personality and temperament is nothing like we experienced with the other two. Not having Tom to be physically present has made it harder, and I think Wally can sense that we are a man down so he pushes buttons more than anyone I know.

Daphne has had some dark moments. She has asked some of the hardest questions. It is a punch to the gut when your seven year straight up asks if her dad is going to die or come home on a regular basis. I barely can process it myself let alone help her process it. But we waded through the mess, and I have to say I am glad that we were honest, because it has helped us address different emotions and how we can lean on each other. Daphne is my most complex with emotions and we are often on a rollercoaster of feelings, so having moments where we can just be sad together have been healthy for us to process being human even if it was dark to sit in the hole together.

George is Tom’s little sidekick, so I would have thought he would have taken it the hardest. He is clingier than he ever has been, which is saying something. The boy’s love language is physical touch, and he needs to be in others spaces all the time. However, George has been phenomenal through all of it. He has been like the cheerleader we all didn’t know we needed. He prays for Tom regularly, and he is always talking so positive that the doctors were going to find him a cure. He talks to Tom regularly about what they are going to do once Daddy has his energy back. It’s like he was willing it into the universe as the only option. He has made comments to me like, “Mom, I am going to take care of you and make sure you aren’t alone until Daddy is back.” George has been the beacon of hope the whole time. He has had his tearful moments, but it was like he always knew Dad would just get better.

We made sure their teachers and school counselors were aware of what was going on, and they wrapped them in love and support while they were at school. While it was hard to communicate the scariness the kids were experiencing this summer, we are very fortunate to have the educators that we do to help pour into our kids.

We have also tried our darndest to still let them be children. This is heavy and awful, and even though we have been honest, we also didn’t want to rob their childhood. We have been trying to keep up with our schedule as much as possible with their activities and camps, and our nightly dinners together. We play UNO every night before bedtime, and we are always curating a list of new movies for our weekly movie nights. We have gone swimming, ate McDonalds, caught fireflies, jumped off a dock into a lake, and took day trips around the state. It has been my mission to still do a normal activity with them every day. There have also been days where bedtime didn’t exist or there was more screen time than not; all things we will navigate scaling back once school starts. While they will remember their dad being sick, we didn’t want it to be the only thing. We felt it was important that while we can be sad, we can also choose joyful things in the midst of grief.

Maybe infusing the normal into their days was just me trying to hold it together for my own grief, because I was barely hanging on when I would have a moment to myself.

I feel like I was living in two worlds. One that has been standing still with Tom and the other that has been moving around us. It seemed weird and callous to keep doing normal things as he was getting worse. I felt pulled in so many different directions with work, the kids, and taking care of Tom. And I feel guilty choosing any of them over others. It is like none of them seemed like the right choice when I chose it. Where to spend my time may seem obvious-Tom right? But anxiety and stress is a fickle thing, and can often make us not think in reality. So anytime I was spending time with Tom, I felt like I was disappointing someone else. And even if you saw me out, my mind was racing to try to act normal to meet expectations in every situation to deflect all the emotions off. My mind was not able to be present in any situation, and I felt fatigued with the heaviness and decisions of where my time needs to go.

Being a care taker of a loved one is a lot. Over the past few months, I had become an in-home nurse for Tom. I would do it over and over again in a heartbeat, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a toll on you. You are constantly putting someone else’s needs over your own. And everyone says, “You need to make time for yourself.” But that is not super easy to do in this situation. He has needed a lot of physical attention, and you can’t always put that on the back burner because you need some “me time.”

The role of a caretaker is often described in glowing terms—selfless, compassionate, and unwavering strength. Yet, beneath the surface of these “noble” attributes lies a gravity that can be overwhelming. I have been angry, impatient, and at moments unkind because the stress took over my body. It is a lot of coordinating from the medication, helping manage symptoms and comfort options for Tom but also paying attention to the kids’ needs and house responsibilities. I had to literally carry my 39 year old husband to go to the bathroom. And it’s not just about the logistics; it’s about holding space for the emotional and psychological needs of everyone in the house as well. I was trying to remain as calm as possible on the outside for Tom and the kids. They already had enough to focus on, and I didn’t need them to worry about me. There have been many compromises, and while ultimately they were choices I made, they felt like we lost things that are normal for a reason that was out of our control. With any move, I have had moments of not feeling like I am doing enough in any space that I am in.

I felt anything but strong and selfless. I didn’t ask to do this, but here we are. That doesn’t make me special, it is just the life that were dealt with. Each day, I was confronting the fragility of life and the reality of an impending loss. This constant reminder of mortality can lead to a spectrum of emotions—and I have felt like I was on a tilt a whirl all the time. I would wake up in the middle of the night to check to make sure he is breathing, and I knew I was watching him die. There’s a unique kind of sorrow in watching someone you love decline, knowing that there is little you can do to change their fate. Despite that, the care can easily become all-consuming as you try to anticipate the needs that could impact quality of life.

There were also moments where I wasn’t in control of my own emotions. I would just suddenly start crying thinking about who was going to take care of all the things Tom does for us. I had intrusive thoughts hit me all the time on how life would look like without him. My anxiety took over me as I would spiral thinking about our basement flooding or how I could enjoy 4th of July without Tom. Would I ever be able to look at fireworks without crying? My brain went into overdrive with all these silly scenarios of how I would be able to do house projects on my own. We have never had to hire someone to fix things at the house, so what does that even look like? And I would spiral with each what then scenario. Since May, there was not an hour that passed that I didn’t think about Tom dying and what that would mean for us left behind. He has always done the house things and can fix anything, and thinking about the responsibility of those things left me grossly unprepared, and then I would be upset with myself wasting time worrying about this frivolous stuff. I started documenting on a notes page or videoing Tom giving me instructions on different house things so I could have them as reference.

I found myself crying in the bathroom all the time. It has been very dark in my head to try to manage all the pieces. The world that once felt familiar and secure now seemed disorienting and surreal. The routines, plans, and shared dreams are suddenly overshadowed by an overwhelming sense of loss. As you navigate through the days, it can feel as though everything is in flux while you’re standing still, struggling to catch your breath. I found it hard to juggle all the things myself, because I felt two very contrasting feelings. One, I didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. That is deeply rooted in my soul from my childhood so it is hard to shake. And two, I felt guilt that I was not “enough” to handle all of it. It was a sick disoriented view that I was a failure if I couldn’t just pick myself up and fix everything. It has been very humbling to hit points where I knew asking for help was the only way to dig out of this pit. (And spoiler alert, people showed up and showed out to help…)

Then there is the feeling of realizing you have lost your partner in the big stuff too. Tom’s memory was starting to be affected by all of his symptoms, and there were weeks were he could not help me make decisions or be a voice of reason as I was processing things. A lot of change was going on around me, and I just felt so alone. I didn’t want to burden him with my worry or he just was in so much pain that we couldn’t focus on anything else. We have been together for 17 years, and it was like all of a sudden the person that I lean on the most wasn’t able to show up in the same way. I had moments of being paralyzed by all the decisions I had to now make on my own. The guilt was overwhelming thinking I was making the wrong decisions all the time. I found myself just stuck looking around waiting for someone else to make the call.

I am sharing this for a few reasons. One I think that we are able to connect on a deeper level when we are able to be vulnerable. This has been heavy and weary, so getting it out, I hope not only releases something for myself, but also highlights that people are often going through more than we can ever realize. I am not sharing this to get pity or accolades at how strong I am. When you are put in this situation you feel anything but strong; you do it because what choice do you have? My “strength” has only come because of prayer and faith that there is purpose in God’s plan. I have been processing a lot of this in therapy, and I have been working a lot on trying to share my story more and bringing others in for help. There are always layers behind people. Coming back to this writing space that I have built over the years, is a way for me to shed some of the weight of all of this. I have been fighting the duality of wanting everyone to know what we are going through to temper expectations and provide grace, but also wanting to keep everything close. There was fear that I would that I would break down in inappropriate situations if I talked about it, and I wouldn’t be able to real it back in. I was like a wound up jack in the box trying to keep my lid closed and sweet music playing. I wasn’t sure how people would react once it popped out of me, and the last thing I wanted was the pity looks. I didn’t need “those looks” to remind me how awful our situation was. But at the same time, I was starting to crack in different areas because I was just trying to make it to the next thing. I knew I needed help, but didn’t know how to accept it or what kind of help would actually help at the same time. It just felt like another decision I would have to make so I avoided sharing. Ultimately, I didn’t mind people knowing, but it has been weird navigating sharing this much about our life that hits deep emotionally.

These past few months have been scary, exhausting, debilitating, and soul-shaking. It has also been extremely humbling and a stark reminder about the shortness of our time here. There have been people who have reminded me of the importance of community and care. I have been overwhelmed by the generosity that folks have shown us, and I am not sure that I will ever be able to truly thank everyone who showed us love through this. Through my kids, I have been shown how sweet the simplicity of joy can be. And also that sometimes we cannot have the joy without experiencing sadness as well. I have had to come to the realization that enjoying things and creating happiness isn’t at the cost of my feelings for Tom, and that we weren’t already moving on without him. 

Now that Tom is home and on a path to better health, I am working on trying to find peace and balance in it all. Just because he is getting better doesn’t mean that I can just turn the emotions off and everything goes back to normal. I am also terrified that this new path will stop working like everything else has. This is part of us, and that will take some healing to work through. I am still going to therapy and pray constantly. Both are teaching me that accepting myself as a work in progress is not a sign of weakness, but a testament to my commitment to approach myself with patience and compassion. I thank God that we have new answers for Tom, and I know this is only part of our story. I know that joy is coming though this.

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The Diagnosis

Tom ended up in the hospital this week. It was a mix of emotions of being scared at how much he has declined recently but also a sense of relief that he would be watched by medical professionals more closely.

It has been a long road to get us to here. This is a really long post, so buckle up. I am not a medical professional, so this is my interpretation of everything.

Tom’s symptoms started in 2021.

At the time he was having really bad heartburn and gut issues. It was also around this time that he had gum pain due to severe inflammation in his mouth. He was referred to a rheumatologist and started a path for treatment for seronegative rheumatoid arthritis. The way it was explained was that his system was producing anti-bodies that attack his body causing the soreness and inflammation. It felt like we had a diagnosis and a treatment.

However, over the next two years it was an ordeal to find the right medication that would treat his symptoms and not make him even more miserable. He went on different immuno-suppressants, but what this ended up doing is giving other things free reign to rule over his insides.

His heartburn grew to vomitting regularly. He was physically sore and arthritic all the time. He started trying to narrow down foods to see if there were trigger foods to the stomach issues. He cut out many groups of foods including his favorite lasagna. Sometimes it seemed to help, other times it seemed like he was not able to eat anything that didn’t become a “trigger” food.

The symptoms just kept growing in intensity and in oddity.

In November 2022, Tom suffered a stroke in his lower extremity. Fortunately, the stroke showed that he had testicular cancer that we may have not found until it was too late. He had a fairly immediate orchiectomy. Unfortunately, because he had to be on antibiotics due to the surgery, it messed with his immuno-suppressant medication for the seronegative rheumatoid arthritis. These two do not mix well together. So his immune system had to be rebuilt in a way after this surgery.

Tom was still on the mend, when our house got hit with a bad stomach bug in February of 2023. It turns out we all had norovirus, but it hit Tom with a vengeance. I will not forget being in the bathroom getting ready and watching him puke blood everywhere like he was a fire hydrant before I dragged him to the hospital. Due to his compromised state already, norovirus almost killed him with the amount of blood he was losing. It turns out that he had a stomach ulcer that ruptured when he got the stomach bug that they rest of us cycled out of in 12 hours.

Around the fall of 2023, Tom’s immuno-suppressant medication stopped being affective. There is a shelf-life to some medications, and it seems that his symptoms with his chronic nerve pain didn’t want to play nice.

He started narrowing down even more foods in his diet to get as clean as possible. It seemed like every day he was weeding out foods that he thought was a trigger food. He made bread from scratch to not have preservatives and made beef tallow to use as cooking oil to get away from seed oils.

Some days were good, but the very next day he would not be able to walk.

The beginning of 2024, unbeknownst to us at the time, was the start of a steep decline.

We all passed around a cold early in the year, and again while the rest of us got over it, Tom’s turned in to walking pneumonia. And it lasted for months.

We had approximately 15 trips to the ER to receive urgent care, but he would just be ping-ponged back and forth between the ER and his primary care with neither taking ownership of handling his medical needs. Most of the time he would not even get any fluids and would be turned away without any medical intervention. There was one time I went with him that they tested him for COVID and Flu which came back negative, and we begged for fluids because he had been puking. And they denied the request, until he started puking in the ER. It was just one doctor after another not seeing the severity of his symptoms. Or they would see them but tell him that he should get primary care (he has VA healthcare), or and I quote, ” I don’t know what you want me to do about it.”

After months of not getting better, we finally demanded and begged for scans. Tom was absolutely miserable with the pneumonia symptoms, but he was also experiencing other symptoms and they seemed to increase with each passing month.

These scans came back in May and we received the dreaded call that there were multiple growths in his lungs and esophagus. There were too many for them to count on the scans, but it did not seem serious enough to rush him into surgery. We waited for a few weeks for the next steps.

In June, he had two different scoping surgeries to pin point what was going on with the growths. Were they cancerous or fungal? He had one in his lungs and one in his esophagus. They both came back negative for cancer or fungal, so it is still a mystery why they are there in the lungs. The esophagus turned out to be 75% covered in cavitated ulcers. Which doesn’t help when you are puking daily.

As all of this is happening in May and June, other symptoms were really ramping up:

  • blindness
  • paralyzed from the waist down
  • nerve pain
  • sores on his skin (they were more like open gashes that would just pop up out of nowhere)
  • spider rashes
  • severe weight loss (he has lost 65 lbs in the last 6 months…see the picture above)

It seemed that any time we would go to the hospital, people would treat him like he was a hypochondriac. I mean it does seem unbelievable to be blind one day and a few days later to be normal. It was like we were on a twisted medical rollercoaster that no one would help us get off of.

We have been desperate this summer. Tom and I both have cried in the ER to different nurses and doctors begging for someone to take a holistic look at his situation. We hoped every time we went to the ER that they would admit him. We were denied a referral to Mayo, and felt like we were out of options. I was just watching Tom waste away. He is no longer able to drive. We have canes and a wheelchair, and it was like we were living in hospice care in our house. I started waking up at all hours of the night or coming to check on him in between meetings at work just to make sure he was still breathing.

Eventually we were forced to begin end of life planning. We sold assets, planned funeral music, and had hard conversation about what he wanted if he wasn’t able to make his own medical decisions anymore.

The one ray of sunshine is that a doctor on loan from University of Missouri was brought in to review the scope of Tom’s lungs. During the consultation he stopped and began asking questions about unrelated medical questions. The questions were very strange, but very on point and it almost seemed like he was reading Tom’s mind. Like the were asking the size of his boogers kind of weird…

Little did we know he was a real life Dr. House. He perked up mid sentence and said “You don’t have Seronegative RA and you aren’t on the correct meds. You have Wegener’s Disease” He scheduled the test to confirm for Tuesday. Looking back each of the symptoms I described above could be explained by the Wegener’s Disease, down to his massive boogers. It seemed like there was a light at the end of this tunnel.

But then Monday Tom fainted at the dentist office.

Since the VA hospital here is ALL medical care, they were able to get him to the ER in the same building. This time for whatever reason, the doctor there decided this was the time to admit him.

While a hospital stay is never ideal, it did seem like a ray of hope for us. It felt that someone was finally taking it seriously, and they couldn’t ignore what was happening if they had them in their constant care.

He has had labs daily. He had two more biopsy surgeries: one on his hand where one of the sores was festering and the other on his kidney.

He was eating three square meals a day but he still lost 3 lbs this week, under their care.

But we inched closer to a diagnosis. Two infectious disease doctors flagged the idea of Wegener’s disease or GPA, so all the tests this week were to confirm that diagnosis.

And we finally got it, and treatments have started.

GPA is very hard to diagnose because it is extremely rare, and the symptoms often lead you on a twisty path or they are misdiagnosed which delays the real diagnosis. Most of our doctors had never heard of GPA until Tom walked in. It is one of the only autoimmune diseases that attacks organs with inflammation. So many of the doctors we talked with this week said his symptoms were wild. The symptoms and side affects are out of this world that they are almost unbelievable. The symptoms are so crazy that the doctors don’t know what to do so they only chase one symptom. Even this week, several doctors wanted to him to have a stomach biospy to rule out lymphoma because they were honing in on just the digestive inflammation. Three in 100,000 people get diagnosed with GPA, but many get diagnosed to late because of this. We have been hearing that only about 3 in a million survive because they don’t receive the GPA treatment in time. Once the symptoms start, if left untreated it is fatal within 2-3 years. We are at almost the three year mark. My stomach just drops knowing I was watching Tom die right in front of me.

But we are finally here.

A diagnosis and a treatment plan.

Praise be to God.

The treatment plan is fairly simple once diagnosed. He is on day two getting the right medicine, and he is able to walk unassisted for the first time in months. He is still restricted due to the loss of muscle mass. however the pain that was eating him alive seems to be miraculously subsiding.

Praise be to God.

Thank you to all who have prayed and reached out for support. This journey is no where close to being over. He has a long road to recovery still, but we know we saw a miracle this week.

Year 13
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Year 13

Today is our anniversary.

When you get married, you are full of excitement. There is nothing but celebration around you. You are looking towards your future and you tend to focus on the happiness that is before you. You think about the mundane routines that you will experience together. You dream of the family you are going to make. You think about the LIFE you will have together.

What I didn’t realize 13 years ago when we high-fived our I dos, is how much we were choosing a partner to navigate death with. I mean I imagined growing old with Tom, as I sing the Adam Sandler song from The Wedding Singer. So it seems obvious that when you say “till death do us part” that was part of the deal.

However it feels different when you start navigating that stage of life.

Tom has an illness that will be with him the rest of his life, and can cause life-threatening situations. We have been searching for the past couple years for the right diagnosis as we hone in on different symptoms. He has seen a sharp decline over the past 6 months, but especially over the last few. We are looking at a long road to maintain positive health, but there are still a lot of unanswered questions. Our life lately has been trips to the hospital, surgeries, biopsies, scans, and a carousel of doctors.

I didn’t imagine to be talking about end of life plans this early in our marriage, but here we are.

It is in these moments that I find that I am blessed to be in this marriage. I could easily say “why us?” or think about life if it went a different direction for us. But then I wouldn’t have this marriage as it is, and all that it has given us despite our current valley.

This marriage has taught me about unwavering love.

This marriage has taught me the value of partnership.

This marriage has humbled me.

This marriage made me a mom.

This marriage has given me everything.

Our wedding verse is a constant comfort for me in this time.

It is often in the valleys where we are stripped to our core and made to learn about ourselves and life.

I am constantly learning about compassion as I watch him be in constant pain. Tom has always been the strongest person I know, and it can be easy for me to just expect the same since life is moving around us like everything is normal. I have needed to slow down and be there for him in new ways and try to understand what new support looks like.

Kindness in a marriage should be a given, but it can be hard when the stress is piling up. It can be hard on a relationship to go through any hard time, but even more so when health is affected. Tom feels helpless because this illness has him knocked down, and I feel helpless to fix any of his ailments so I am trying to keep everything else afloat. But that can make it easy for us to be stressed around each other, and it has been a good reminder for us to be kind in the simplest of terms.

Everything about this year has brought us to our knees and humbled us in ways that we didn’t even think was possible. It has made us be vulnerable in new ways as we continue to grow together. As we have humbled ourselves, we have been able to share more depth about each other and our hopes and fears.

When you are dealing with the hardship of life, being gentle is a weird concept. You’re kind of like an eggshell yourself never quite knowing what will break you. You don’t want people to pity you, but at the same time it can be a large weight to bear. You try to make yourself stronger than maybe you really are to just make it day to day. I am reminded of the extraordinary gift of gentleness that we can offer each other in our marriage. Our world is often filled with chaos and noise, the soft touch of gentleness has the power to soothe our souls, nurture our bond, and create a sanctuary of love and understanding between us.

Patience. Deep down, I am not a patient person. I get anxious waiting on others and want to know what is happening so I can prepare. Being a mom definitely has tested me in that, but so has being married to Tom in everyway. He walks boldly in life, and that can be a wild ride for this anxious heart. He joined the Army, became a police officer, and now has this unknown illness that makes me stop in my tracks daily. I have to be ok with waiting a lot in this life. I pray that God grants me the strength to persevere in times of trial, to remain steadfast in times of uncertainty, and to hold onto hope in times of despair. In my moments of impatience and frustration, I have to ask for help to cultivate a spirit of calmness, understanding, and perseverance, even in the face of these challenges and uncertainties.

There is nothing like facing death that makes you realize holding grudges or bad feelings does no one any good. One of the most remarkable aspects of forgiveness is its ability to bring about profound healing and transformation. By choosing to forgive, we free ourselves from the chains of bitterness and resentment, allowing us to experience inner peace. We quite frankly don’t have time to be mad at each other, so it has been really healing to just let things go and return to love.

Because above all else is love. Love is what got us started. Love built this family. Love is our foundation. Love ties us together.

While this year has been full of strife, it has also brought us immeasurable peace as we both have grown in our faith in God. Everything about this has been scary and unknown, but we have put our trust in God to pull us through this. We have been telling each other that God has something in store for us with everything that is happening. We may not know what that is, but we have found peace that this is the life He chose for us and there is purpose in that. We have had to learn to trust in His divine timing.

And for all of this I am thankful. I am thankful that we started dating 17 years ago during our summer jobs at Worlds of Fun. I am thankful that Tom asked to be tied together 14 years ago on the shores of Savannah, GA. And I am thankful that we chose to navigate life together 13 years ago when we got married.

I am thankful for everything because even in the hard, there has been so so much good. And I wouldn’t change anything about that, so I will take all of this hard now knowing we have more laughs and good to experience.

Happy anniversary, love.

Daphne Year Seven
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Daphne Year Seven

This sweet girl of ours is turning seven today. As I look back on the last year, she has grown so much. I am so proud of who she is becoming.

In honor of year lucky seven, here are seven things I love about Daphne Christine.

She has an incredible ability to tune into other people’s needs. She is so observant to how people are feeling and their interests. She picks up so easily how to fill other people’s cup. Her kindness shines through how she cares for other people and making their day is her specialty. She really pays attention to make sure people feel seen and taken care of.

    She loves to learn. She is always asking questions and trying to piece together explanations. Her reading level has skyrocketed this year. We cannot keep enough books around her that she hasn’t read. And she loves sharing what she has learned. She is always sharing facts and stories of things she has picked up. And it is like a glow coming off her when she is soaking in or sharing information.

    Her imagination is magical. She can concoct these fantastical worlds around her in such great detail. She easily slips into play, and it is so fun to see her weave stories together. The creativity that pours out of her never ceases to amaze me.

    Her deep belly laughs are like medicine to your soul. She giggles with her whole body, and it warms my whole being to be in her joyful presence.

    Her attention to detail is unmatched. She has always been particular to even the smallest point. When she was little she use to make these maps that were so intricate. Now she does it as she creates different stations and organization in her room. She plans things out to the most miniscule detail with great thought and attention. And if you get her started talking about fairies or Pokemon, get ready for an insane amount of detail that you never knew existed.

    Her fierce love for her brothers is one of my favorite things about her. She corrals them with such tenacity. She is always wanting to keep up with George, and loves to dive into his interests to gain connection. And she is ever Wally’s protector and is the Wally whisperer. She is the perfect sister to them both. She can weave between their ages effortlessly and gives each of them what they need. She loves being a sister and will always be the bond that keeps this sibling trio in balance.

    Her determination and strong-will is unmatched. While she can be cautious to start new things, once she has her mind set she is unstoppable. She can hold fast like no one I have ever seen.

      She is my little mini-me, and I can’t wait to see how she moves through life. I pray every day that she leans into her kindness, strength, and positivity. My hope is that her journey is filled with joy, learning, and countless blessings. May she grow into a compassionate, resilient, and confident individual, shining bright with her unique gifts. Happy birthday my dearest daughter, and may this special day be filled with love, surprises, and obviously McDonald’s. Here’s to another year of growth, adventure, and beautiful memories ahead!

      Mother’s Day
      by

      Mother’s Day

      As a kid, there were two things that I thought were going to happen for me when I grew up: become a mom and have more control over my life.

      Well one of those things happened.

      I love being a mom, but the biggest lesson I have learned after almost a decade of motherhood, is that I have to give over the control for happiness and to be truly present.

      Before becoming a mom, I knew that our schedules would change. I knew that there were parts of their growing up that would be out of our hands. You know the big stuff. I can’t control when they get sick or what their interests may be.

      But I never thought to think about the mundane day to day things that would make me feel out of control and have to remember that I prayed for this life.

      Over the years there are definitely things that pain me to watch and parts of me cringe not being able put order into little moments. Losing control is part of motherhood, and it is perfectly ok to feel crazy about it sometimes. I have had to normalize this feeling over the years because there are times that I felt like I was losing my my mind because things were not happening in a certain way. Motherhood is anything but control, and we are often just living on a hope and a prayer.

      My house is in a different state of chaos at all times.

      There are cardboard structures and blanket forts as permanent decorations. There are toys everywhere, and it looks like I am running a daycare in my living room.

      But this is also where their imagination soars, and I know there is so much that comes from feeling safe to do this kind of play in all spaces of our house. I don’t want to stifle this childhood because I need things to be presentable. I want them to remember all the exploring and creating they were able to do in our house. I don’t want them to be “bedroom” kids and think that is the only space in the house that is theirs. While there is some truth to that, I love that you see marks of their childhood throughout the house.

      Our dining room table is more of a dump area than a community space.

      But this is also where everyone can shed the weight of work and school before they step into the rest of the house. I want them to feel the comfort of our home and for it to be lived in because well, we live here. And honestly having this right off our entry way makes our lives easier to just dump things and know the things we need to leave the house are piled here.

      I thought that because Tom and I were good eaters, that we would be able to role model eating a wide array of foods. So when all three of them have been picky over the years, I feel at a loss on how to make sure they are getting what they need. I always thought that you eat what you get would be a good enough stance to just work.

      But then I realize that if I have to buy the 40 piece nugget option at McDonald’s to make some nights easier because one child will only eat this type of chicken, then so be it. I will take back some control in that way and just accept the boujeeness of it all. While I can control what is on their plate, I cannot control what they choose to actually eat off that plate. I want them to learn how to speak about food in a healthy way and me losing a little control by not requiring clean plates actually lets them create healthy relationships with food.

      Unfortunately the things that makes me lose my marbles the most is how my children approach their clothing. It is like nails on a chalkboard watching them put outfits together with mismatched patterns and colors. And I struggle that no one seems to catch on how to organize a closet around here.

      However, I love to see their faces when they are so proud of the outfit they put together. I wish I had the confidence that they have when I was going through school. Also I have to realize that everyone has their own organization style and at least they are getting their clothes to their closet. Ownership here doesn’t have to be about my ownership, but how they learn to move through the world.

      I guess in a sense then, I really do have control. Control to understand when to put boundaries around my own peace and give in to letting them have theirs. I do get to control the type of motherhood I do want to embrace. Sometimes I do organize their closets for my own satisfaction, but most days I will myself to let it go. And while there are times I wish our house was cleaner or that we didn’t have to cater to so many different eating preferences, I also wouldn’t trade this life for anything. I get to lean into the chaos of it all. At the end of the day, I know that I don’t have to control everything in motherhood. And honestly, I think that is some of the beauty of it. The lesson has been knowing when to give some of the control to them in order for them grow. And it has been magical to be part of it all with them.