Grief is Physical

 I can handle it. I can do anything. I can persevere. I am strong. I have survived.

HEY YOU! Yeah, you. YOU ARE HUMAN. BAM! 

I can't breathe. I can't stand up straight. I can't do this. 

A simple post on Facebook as I scrolled last Tuesday, sent me crumbling to the ground. Without warning or any heads up. One second, getting ready to walk into work and the next second, tears are pouring down my face and the wind has been completely knocked out of me. It physically hurt my entire soul. What sort of post would cause this kind of pain, you ask? Throughout my son's pregnancy over 15 years ago, I found a mom group on babycenter and we called ourself the confession mommas. We shared everything with each other. Dark secrets, feelings, relationship ups and downs, pregnancy symptoms and struggles, fears, hopes, high's and lows. We talked about it all. Once our babies were born, we were tighter than ever. At that time, I lived in Pensacola, FL. A big group of mommas would fly down and we rented a beach house where we could be together and our babies could play. It was those meetups where my deepest fears and worries became a reality. My child wasn't meeting milestones AT ALL. He wasn't doing the things the other babies were doing. I could no longer relate. I didn't fit in. My son and I were no longer like the other moms and babies. I felt so alone and so scared. I KNEW something wasn't quite right. Those meetups and the shared stories hurt. They hurt so bad. I struggled with even staying in the group because it was so hard. But those women didn't let me give up. They wrapped us in their arms and support every step of the way. Our own babies weren't just our own; they were all of our babies. The mommas sent donations to the Ronald McDonald House so that I wouldn't stress over the donation to stay there during hospitalizations. They sent words of encouragement and love when my days were filled with tears. When Carter passed away, a couple of them drove from out of state to be at his funeral. They sent flowers and memorial wind chimes. But even 15 years later...it HURTS. It hurts to see where the January 2009 babies are today. It hurts to miss my c-baby with all of my being and to see what I am missing out on. And even though it is NOT anyone else's problem that their milestones are my heartbreak. Not for one second should anyone else feel anything by pride as they share these updates. In no way is anyone doing anything wrong by any means. But my heart still breaks every now and then when I scroll and see something. It doesn't happen every time. 9 times out of 10, I can handle it. But I never know when or why something will trigger my grief. On this particular day last week, it was 15th birthday posts for a couple of the babies who were born early. I am fully aware that Carter's 15th birthday is coming soon. I am fully aware that birthdays suck. I am fully aware that it's going to hurt like hell. But these posts sent me over the edge that particular morning. Thankfully, the census was low at work that day and I got staffed off. I was able to go home with my broken heart and could lick my wounds in private. But as the morning went on, my broken heart physically hurt. I could tell that my blood pressure was elevated and I just didn't feel well. I drove myself to the ER to make sure my heart wasn't going to shatter. I mean, that kind of pain has to result in certain death, right?! At least, that's how it felt. As I was getting a chest x-ray, I thought to myself, "I am sure they will be able to see the breaks in my heart. They have to. It's most certainly broken,". But the doctor didn't say anything about it. He said everything looked good, He said my blood work was okay. I don't think doctors have textbooks or courses on broken hearts though. I don't think they know what they are looking for. There's no testing for that, which still shocks me. There has to be a diagnosis for it besides grief. But they found nothing wrong with me and sent me home. Back home to sit in my pain. 

Okay. I know this all sounds dramatic and maybe it is. But unless you have lost someone who means the absolute world to you, I don't think you can quite comprehend the real physical pain of it. I grew this child within my body. I gave him life. I nurtured him for 7 years. I fought like hell to save him time and time again. I prayed for his healing over and over. I begged with the heavens to please not take him from me. And then, I watched the very life I gave him, get taken away. Over the last 7 years, one little thing to the next, I have continued to lose more and more of him. I have been robbed of outliving him like mother's should. I will never get to decorate his bedroom door the night before his birthdays and see his surprised face when he finds it in the morning. I will never have new school pictures each year. I won't watch him go to his freshman year of high school or become a teenager. I won't see him graduate or get married some day. I am left to wonder who he would be and what he would look like now. I try not to go there. I try to stay on autopilot in order to put one foot in front of the other each day. I try not to let the beautiful or the sad memories consume me. I try not to go there. But that my friends, is the reality of being human. I have bad days. Bad, ugly and excruciating days. 

I can say that the next day was better and I was stronger. And each day since last Tuesday, has been okay. The swelling of my eyes has went down. The sharp pains in my chest have slowly dissipated. I know that another day will come or another trigger will get me. But today, I am okay and can share this with you. All of this to say, please understand that grief is REAL. It is not just emotional or psychiatric. It is physical.

I truly love my confession mommas and babies. I love to see how and what they are doing. But there are days when I cannot handle it too. That's part of the grief. What was okay yesterday may not be today. Please bear with us grieving humans this holiday season and throughout the year when the loss and grief strikes us. Please listen when we need to cry or say their names. Don't try to fix it. Don't try to say something "supportive" because majority of the time, it won't help nor does it feel good for us. Simply listen. Give us a hug. 

Peace, calm & happiness

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling.  The dread and fear I felt in that moment, was debilitating.  I kept sitting up to look out the window where I could see the driveway.  Looking to see if the van was there or not.  My only means of transportation. Driven by the man who I had trusted with my life.  I had trusted him enough to have 3 children with him.  I chose a life with him. A life that had been pounded into the ground with lies and manipulation.  He had chosen a path that didn't involve that promise or what I had envisioned for my life.  He chose the streets and drugs.  Every penny we had was gone the moment it landed in our hands.  I had to hide anything of value and stash any dollar I had, somewhere unimaginable, in order for him not to find it.  This was at a time that our son was in hospice care.  Our middle child was a rambunctious 3 year old and I was 8 months pregnant.  My life was in turmoil in so many ways.  How was I going to get us out of this nightmare?  How was I going to bring another baby into this hell?  How was I going to get to and from the hospital if my son had to go?  Would I even be able to put gas in the van to make it to the hospital, if he ever came home with it?  Would another drug related guy show up at our house when I was there alone with the kids?  While driving in that van used for God-knows-what, would someone he owes money to, target me?  What had my life become.  While staring at the ceiling in dread, I remember trying to imagine where I would want to be, if I could go anywhere other than here.  What I seen wasn't a place at all.  It wasn't a big fancy house or paradise island.  It wasn't material things either.  What I imagined was peace, calm and happiness.  Anywhere would suffice as long as what I felt was those things.  If I had enough food in my kitchen to feed my children.  If I had enough gas to get where we needed to go.  If we had warm, safe beds to sleep in.  That no one who could hurt us or show up at the door trying to take things.  If that man I had thought would give me the world, would just disappear from mine.  Peace, calm and happiness is all I ever wanted.  I could fool myself for brief moments to feel it.  Those fleeting moments of imaginary joy, were what gave me hope in such a dark place.  I was determined that if something would give, I would take it.  I would run and I would run far.  I just had to figure out how to get there.  It wasn't as easy as most people would think.  It's easy from the outside to say, "just leave".  I had a terminally ill child on a ventilator, feeding tube and tons of medical supplies. I couldn't just pack a suitcase and walk away.  I needed somewhere safe to go, where he couldn't find me.  I had to have the law on my side, so that the measures needed, were taken.  I needed to go into hiding without it being kidnapping.  I needed so many things to happen.  It was October 29th, 2015 when it finally went down that way.  I was able to leave with law enforcement, CPS and a PPO to light the way.  I went into hiding and worked tons of hours with the help of family, so that I could start rebuilding our lives.  It took me one month to get us into our own apartment and with the help of a S.A.F.E fund through the hospital, I purchased my very own, new to me, van. The hardest decisions of my life had not yet happened, believe it or not.  Through all of that, I had to make decisions for my son, that broke me into a million pieces. I had to decide whether intervening every other week to put him on life support was fair or not.  I had to let him go.  I am not sure what I ever did in my life to deserve the pain and torture that I went through in that last year or two.  But whatever the reason, it was my reality.  It was up to me to choose how I would move forward. How I would keep rebuilding for my two girls.  The option to crawl into bed and feel sorry for myself, wasn't a luxury I had the time to waste.  I had to pull myself together and fight.  Peace, calm and happiness wasn't going to happen by itself.  The next 3 years, I fought like hell.  I kept a roof over our heads, food on the table and my girls had everything they needed.  The trauma and fears of our past forever imprinted on my heart.  I lived with uncertainty that I could ever trust or love another man again.  I wasn't sure that I would ever quite get to the dreams I had hoped for, for myself. 

Fast forward 3 years.  I was staring at the ceiling again.  My surroundings a bit different this time.  My vehicle safely parked inside the garage full of gas.  My girls sleeping in their beds without a worry in the world.  The man in my life, sleeping beside me.  No fears, no unknowns, no worries.  The only heavy thoughts on my mind as I lay there, were of all of the things that needed done the next morning.  Checking off my imaginary list of things I didn't want to forget come morning.  But this time, good things.  The happiest of things I ever could have ever imagined.  The next day, at 2:00 p.m. as I walked across the grass with my grandpa holding my arm, I looked up.  I looked up and caught his eyes as I inched closer.  I seen it!!!  Peace, calm and happiness.  Everything I had imagined and hoped for in those most scary times, was right there in front of me.  My girls dancing and smiling near him at the end of the aisle.  Surrounded by all of our closest friends and families as we made the ultimate promise to one another

.  Those vows meant more to me than just the solemnly swear to love, protect and cherish one another.  It was a promise of peace, calm and happiness.  I don't expect our marriage to be perfect and joyful every second of every day.  But I know with this miracle placed in my life, that we will always be safe and okay.  

The only thing that seems to make the most sense about what I went through, is that it gave me a profound appreciation for where I am today.  There is never a day that goes by that I don't still feel moments of irrational anxiety or unexplained bouts of fear.  I don't know that those things will ever go away entirely.  But as more times goes by and life remains okay, I feel a little less shaky and unsteady.  I am learning to accept the peace, calm and happiness that has found it's way into my reality!  I'm a work in progress, as we all are through the chapters of life.  But I am so thankful that I was given a second chance to write a whole new story!  I am so thankful for our solid home, my two healthy daughters, my amazing husband, our precious dog..."white picket fence" and all!  

Being a mom is messy

 "Look at the sky momma! It's beautiful!" exclaimed my 6 year old daughter on our way to Mott early this morning.  I replied, "just like you baby" and she said, "just like YOU momma, you are so beautiful".  It is THIS right here.  It is the beautiful soul of my young daughter who sees the beauty in a sunrise.  It is the words of my daughters when I feel defeated at the end of the day and they say, "you are the best mommy ever".  It reminds me that even in a tough day, there is sunshine.  My beautiful, sweet, loving daughters.  Even when I feel like I have failed them with my short fuse and frustrations throughout the day and they still think I am the best mom in the world.  They see the strong, fun, loving mom that I only wish I could be 50x better at.  I make them a simple dinner of chicken strips in the air fryer and Kraft Mac & cheese and they smile and say "thank you for making us such a great dinner mom".  Now don't get me wrong; not every moment is sunshine and rainbows with my girls.  They are not always grateful and sweet.  They have their moments when I spend an hour cooking dinner to have them say "ugh, I don't like that" and I want to scream.  They bicker and tattle throughout the day as I am trying to juggle my work from home job,  clean the never ending crumbs off the counter, or give them the warning face as they try to ask for their millionth snack of the day and I am on the phone with a patient.  But just when I feel like a total failure, they thank me.

This is also the journey of a grieving mother.  Most mornings, I have to take a deep breath, throw on my armor and give myself the little pep talk "you can do this" as I climb out of bed each morning.  I don't say it out loud or vocalize just how hard it is. Very rarely will you see me cry.  I don't have time to fall to pieces.  It could take years to put those pieces back together and mom's don't get bereavement time as needed.  So I take my moment each morning, sometimes while washing my hair in the shower.  It's easier to rinse away the tears that way.  I glance at his photos around the house each time I pass them and I feel my heart skip a beat.  That broken tik Tok, tick Tok, tik Tok that no one can hear.  On our family trip last week as we kayaked Pictured Rocks, Nola said, "look at the butterfly mom! Do you think it's Carter?"  Yes baby, I do.  I believe he's always close by.  I believe he's cheering me on from the sidelines as I navigate this thing called life.  I am constantly battling the guilt of living.  Of living while he is not.  I battle my inner demons and the choices I had to make to let him go.  But I can still see him in my daughters' eyes.  I can hear his voice when they ask about him or say his name.  Every time they ask to go visit him, I know he's whispering hello.  

Just when I feel like everything is wrong, the beauty behind the eyes of my children reminds me that it's not.  They remind me that I'm doing alright and that I'm momming them just right.  Being a mom is messy but so beautiful. Take it from the broken hearted and tired momma whose children thinks she's still perfect.

Church

 I believe that there is only ONE church.  Before you read that and instantly think I am crazy, let me explain.  I have never been a person that I would call religious nor have I spent more than a hand full of times inside of a church.  I wasn't raised religious.  For each of us, our life is our church.  Life is what sculpts us and defines us until that final day.  Every person's life is different. Our suffering, our happiness, our homes, our choices, our food preferences, the ways we choose to raise our children, the friendships we make and keep, the trips we take, the careers we choose.  For each and every one of us, that is our individual church.  No church looks the same nor does it sing the same hymns.  But the lessons we learn and how we choose to proceed forward in our lives, is what our own church preaches.  We should not judge others for the way they conduct their own

.  We shouldn't be as narrow minded as to think that there is only one perfect congregation, because for our own, it absolutely is.  As long as the life you live is one that makes you happy, healthy and proud, your church is perfect.  

There are moments in every persons life that they can pinpoint that were self defining moments.  Something that happened in their life that is engrained in their very soul. A piece of their history that has defined important aspects of their life.  These moments are our church.  I, myself, have had so many of those moments.  Some so dark that most people wonder how I am still moving forward with a smile on my face.  They wonder how I can talk about my son without tears.  They wonder how I could ever trust another relationship.  They wonder how I can find the positive in the hardships without resentment and animosity.  My answer is always the same.  Because I have no choice.  I DID have the choice in how I moved forward though.  I could choose to be a miserable, angry person or I could choose to find the light.  There is always light.  Today's sorrows will not always be tomorrows anguish.  Tomorrow can be what we choose for it to be because it hasn't happened yet.  We cannot change the past.  I consciously choose to wake up each day and be thankful that I did.  I look around and have so much to be thankful for.  I am thankful for the 7 years that I was gifted with my son.  I am thankful for my two healthy, happy daughters.  I am thankful for the wonderful man who found us along the way.  I am thankful for my family and friends. I am thankful for my job and all that it has brought into my life.  My church.  Walls are not what build us.  What builds us, is our story; our own bibles, if you will.  

Days go by

I can see the mile marker ahead of me as I start out on my run and it seems too far away.  My mind is trying to tell me before I even begin that it's just too far and it's just too hard.  I consciously set myself up for believing that it's more than I can do.  Then I internally slap myself and say "COME ON! You've got this". One foot in front of the other and I watch the finish line get closer and closer.  I feel my confidence growing as I watch the distance pass.  Then as I hit my goal, I feel myself rejoice in success.  And then I remind myself the next time, that I made it before and I can do it again. This is the story of my life.  Then I have lags in my life when I also let myself lean heavily on the idea that there's always tomorrow. I can just work at it later.  I have time.  Days go by and I don't push to be my best self.  I let the overwhelm take over when things just seem too hard.  There are areas of my life that I haven't given 100%.  Relationships that I didn't mend because my heart was too battered and scarred to see past the fog.  Seeing the pain and imperfections in others was too heavy and sad for me to bear.  Forgiveness too hard to face. 

In just the first 2 weeks of 2021, I lost my dad and turned 35.  As I sit here tonight and think about what this means for my life, I can't help but be reminded that life is fragile.  It goes way too fast.  I am guilty more times than I can count, of putting things off and being dependent on expecting time to wait for me.  I say I will start doing this or doing that, next week.  I will figure things out eventually.  I will stop by my dads house just to give him a hug.  I wanted to do that fish fry with him one more time. I wanted to tell him that I understand why things were hard for a really long time; that I knew he too, had his struggles with the hand dealt to him at times.  My heart still begged for more time and I hoped that I could say those words.  But instead I stayed away because it hurt so much to see him suffering and dying.  My dad was the mile marker that felt too far away to reach.  All of the years of pent up spite for the times he wasn't there.  I think back over the last 10 years and cannot wrap my mind around where it has went.  In what feels like the blink of an eye, so much has changed.  People I love come and gone.  The person of my 20's a completely different picture in my 30's.  I barely recognize the person I was then.  It's been a week since my dad's funeral and I have reunited with family who have been distant for different reasons in recent years.  I have clung to items of my dads that I never gave much thought to before.  Just as I look for Carter in all parts of my day, I find myself doing the same for my dad.  I need him more now than I ever did before or maybe it's just that I realize that time has slipped me by.  I never do New Years resolutions but this year, I want to be better at keeping promises to myself.  To focus on the moments in front of me and the tangibility of now.  I have so many things that I want to happen in my life still.  Things that are either in or out of my control.  I have spent a lot of time hoping and wishing more than living and learning.  

All of this to say, I think we all just need to grab our goals by the horns and DO IT.  Don't wait for tomorrow.  Forgive that person, more so for yourself because I can tell you right now, it is YOU who hurts the most by not doing it. Plan that vacation and GO.  Do that fish fry.  Tell the people you love that you love them even if the timing isn't right, even if it makes it awkward.  I guarantee you won't regret it later.  Drop in and hug your parents for no reason except to feel their embrace and see the smile on their face.  Know that life is going to change whether you are ready for it or not.  Time is unrelenting, irrevocable, and ever changing.  Don't waste it or take it for granted.  We only get one chance at this thing called life.  Treat it as your most valuable possession because it IS.  Make it worth every second and live every day as if it is your last because for all you know, it could be.

I love you dad. RIH 1959-2021

Thin Blue Line

17 months ago, I received a phone call in the middle of the night that would change our lives. Only a few hours earlier, we were singing Happy Birthday and blowing out candles.  It was a night just like any other.  But little did we know that that night would take a life changing turn.  He spent the last 21 years protecting our community and putting in thousands of hard worked hours.  His only wish each shift was to come home safe each morning, just like anyone else.  His life has been to protect and serve.  He is known to be calm and collected at all times.  He is known to his brothers and sisters in blue as "Rock" because he is so tough.  As much as he's known for being tough, he is also fair and solid.  Three years ago, he made a choice to add my girls and I to his life.  He chose to wrap us in his arms of safety and calm.  He has taken on the role as a father to my 2 daughters.  When his duties are done at work, he comes home and takes up duty as a protective dad and partner.  17 months ago, our world was shaken.  At approximately 11:07 p.m. on April 17th, 2019, I was woken out of sleep to my phone ringing.  As I squinted to see the screen and realized it was the hospital number, I already knew.  I instantly knew that something was wrong.  The doctor on the other end told me that Kirk Carter had been in a trauma.  She proceeded to tell me that he had been shot twice.  This man who always told me "there's nothing to worry about" each day that he left for work, had been shot.  This man who always smiled and reassured me that everything would be okay, was not.  When the doctor told me he had been shot in his upper leg and hand, the only relief was because I knew he would survive his injuries.  But my heart broke because I also knew that this would change his life.  His goals now on hold.  The normal we had embraced only hours earlier celebrating his 46th birthday and my words to him before he left, "you shouldn't work on your birthday", echoing in my mind.  I needed to get to him.  I needed to see him and touch him.  I needed to know that he was okay. When the officer who drove me to the hospital that night, finally arrived, all I remember is running.  I ran through the back doors of the ambulance bay and asked "where is he?"  I ran to the trauma room where the love of my life lay on a gurney.  He was pale but his face was calm.  His first words to me were, "I'm 100%".  Moments later, the doctor came in and showed us the x-ray of his femur.  It was shattered.  Over the next 5 days, he endured 2 surgeries. One to put a metal rod in his right femur and another to put pins in his shattered wrist.  The newspaper released a statement saying that his injuries were non-life threatening, but they fail to say that they are life changing.  17 months of physical therapy, surgeries, a wheelchair, walker, cane, appointments, pain, blood clots.  The behind the scenes aftermath that this incident has caused.  

Over time, I learned more details about what had happened that night.  Kirk was assisting on a domestic call and was the one who happened to walk into the room where a man was hiding in a closet.  That man opened fire on him.  Without hesitation, his brothers and sisters in blue held the line from there in the face of chaos.  The officers who were on that call and ran into the crossfire, the officer and explorer who ran into the house only minutes after the shootout to pull Kirk down a flight of stairs, applied a tourniquet and pulled him out of the house so that he could get to the hospital, to the officers from all around the county who rushed to get there; I am forever grateful.  To this day, it is still very hard for me to imagine those moments.  This man that I love, almost taken from me.  He was there to protect and serve, as always.  A job that has the risk of unknown factors every minute of every single day.  Kirk is the epitome of the thin blue line.  He separates the good from the bad while creating order from chaos.  He is brave, strong and endlessly positive, despite the challenges that the chaotic bad of his career has inflicted on him.  He has yet to go back to active road patrol still but he hopes to eventually.  As a spouse, I am terrified for those days ahead.  But I am also supportive of anything he wants to do.  He has worked so hard to get back what was taken from him.  I am one of the fortunate ones who can stand here today and say that he is still with us.  There are so many spouses, sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers who cannot.  I pray every single day for all of the law enforcement officers, their families, and their brothers and sisters in blue, that they too make it home from their shifts every day.

Remarkable Woman of the Year

Over a month ago, I received a phone call from the Milwaukee Channel 6 news.  The general manager told me that I had been nominated for Remarkable Woman of the Year and was in their top 4 picks.  I was completely blown away and immeasurably honored.  But my first thought was, do I really deserve this?  Do I belong in this top 4?  For as long as I can remember, I have always been my own harshest critic.  My mom nominated me and wrote about all of my trials and tribulations and they thought I was worthy of top 4.  My next thought was, there is no such thing as a remarkable woman without remarkable friends and family.  I have had an army of support through all of this.  People that  have lifted me up when I wasn't sure my legs could withstand the weight of my life.  They were the shoulders when I needed to unload mine for a while.  They rallied when my son was sick and times were bleak.  They didn't give up on me when I was in a terrifying marriage of narcissism and drug addiction.  They helped me rebuild my life when I lost everything in that divorce.  They protected me and my children when I was in hiding and trying to rebuild my life.  They offered me solace when I needed time to figure it all out. They helped with my children when I went back to college.They helped me organize the benefits that meant so much to me.  Benefits that meant so much to me because they meant hope when I was told that there was none for my son.  These are the people who have believed in me even when I wasn't sure I could get through it all.  All of the things that I have done for my son, my girls, the fundraising, walkathons and helping my boyfriend recover from his injuries, I did without ever needing recognition.  I did it all in the face of love.  All of these people in my life are the ones who deserve to stand beside me in an honor like this.

When I got this phone call, I called my mom first.  We both cried as we realized that this news station read my story and felt that I was remarkable enough to be in that top 4.  They told me I would hear from them soon to do an interview since they would be airing the top 4 in February and the winner would be flown to New York to be on the Mel Robbins Show.  I can't even describe the feelings I have had since getting that call.  I only told closest family and friends because a part of me still couldn't believe that this was true.  And another part of me had a feeling that nothing would ever come of it.  I was okay with both, because I already felt it was such an honor to have been thought of as top 4 in the things they looked for in this contest.  Yesterday morning, I received an email from the special projects producer saying that they didn't realize I lived outside of Milwaukee and due to residency requirements, I am unable to be named as a finalist in the contest.  I read the email over and over.  I am not sure how this mistake happened, but it did.  Apparently, each state has its own local channel 6 news that chose their own top 4 local women.  Somehow my nomination was sent to the wrong one.  As much as I want to cry and feel sad about this, I also keep telling myself that I don't need this recognition to know that I am remarkable.  All I have to do is look around and count my blessings.  I have come out on the other end of darkness into a beautiful life full of so many things to be proud of. I survived things that are meant to break a person.  I would be lying if I said I haven't cried since getting that email.  But today, I am just doing my best to look forward and to be proud of all the other women who have gotten that same phone call and look forward to hearing their stories too.

One Shot

We live in a world where people are expected to be perfect.  This includes our appearance, weight and how we speak.  We are judged for not keeping the house clean enough or for every mistake our children make.  There is judgment every where we go and everything that we do.  I don't know about you, but that's heavy.  A heavier burden than anyone should have to carry.  The fact is, we are human.  And we all know, humans make the biggest of mistakes.  I have spent so much of my life trying to be what everyone else thought I should be.  One thing I've learned, is that I will NEVER ever fit that mold.  It doesn't matter how hard I try, there will always be someone who doesn't think it was good enough.  This is probably one of my favorite parts of my 30's...I have come to not care nearly as much.  I am learning who I want to be, how I want my home to look, I see the magnificence of laughter.  I dress the way I want even if it's not the current day fashion.  I make mistakes. Like ALL the time!  I am the least graceful person on the planet and stumble over absolutely nothing.  I sometimes say the most off the wall things because it made more sense in my head than when the words rolled off my tongue.  I forget things if they aren't written down.  I hate left hand turns and refuse to do them most of the time.  I get frustrated when it's too loud, too cluttered or too chaotic.  I say I am sorry more times than I ever should.  I get worried and overthink on a daily basis.  But I have come to a point where I forgive myself easier.  I give myself grace for being imperfect.  I can laugh at the silly things I say and do.  I actually find myself to be one of the funniest people I know.  Which I think is SO important in life.  Finding the silver lining in things that we could instead dwell on, is so important.  We get ONE shot at this thing called life. ONE SHOT.  We don't get a re-do or rewind on life.  When it's over, it's over.  And in the long run, it will never really matter if we made a fool of ourselves every now and then.  I guarantee that the majority of people we know, have made the very same mistakes, even if they won't admit it.  One of the most common questions I get from people who know my story, is "how do you do it?  I don't think I could".  It's simple.  I don't have a choice.  I couldn't control the decisions my ex-husband made, I couldn't control that my son was born terminally ill and passed away, I couldn't stop some of the bad things that happened and I can't change any of it now.  So I simply accept it and live.  And so would you.  This isn't to say that I don't still have ugly days and tears of sorrow.  It doesn't mean that my heart doesn't hurt every second of every day.  Time does NOT heal all wounds or make pain any less hard.  Time changes things and I have learned how to live with it.  I lived under a spell of manipulation and abuse for a long time in my marriage and that has taken its toll.  I am still learning that it wasn't all my fault and that I am not a horrible person, just because he drilled it in my head that I was.  Sometimes the shadows of those dark days still follow me, but I remind myself that I am a survivor.  I literally lost everything in a matter of seconds, but I persevered and rebuilt my life.  I worked my butt off to give my kids everything they needed, even when I look back and can't remember how I did it.  The only thing that matters now, is that I DID IT!  I can feel my son with me in every big decision I make, my girls are happy and healthy, we are safe, we have the most amazing man in our lives, I am debt free, and life is solid.  

As I creep up on my 34th birthday, I feel so overwhelmed with gratitude and appreciation for being where we are today.  I am learning to forgive myself for not fitting in that mold, for crying over absolutely nothing once in a while, for being angry from time to time, for making mistakes.  I set goals or promises if you will and I do my best to keep them.  I accept myself for who I am and that is all that matters.  My shoulders are far less burdened and life is simpler.  I just hope that more people can learn to give themselves grace too.  Forgive yourself.  Worry less.  Work to impress yourself before anyone else. That is NOT selfish.  Stop beating yourself up for all the things you haven't been able to do and embrace all of the things that you HAVE done.  If you cannot care and love yourself more, you can never truly do the same for others.  This doesn't mean that we haven't made mistakes in our lives that we have to make right.  Of course we have, we all make them.  But making those things right and not repeating them, is key.  Mistakes teach us how to be better people.  Owning our faults, apologizing when we mean it and fixing those, are important.  And then FORGIVE yourself and others.  And most importantly, don't forget to live your best life.  Give it all you have.  Have fun! Love big and laugh along the way!

From me to you

If I could write a letter to myself and deliver it to the 18 year old me, this is what it would say.

Dear me,

Happy graduation day!  The reason I choose this day is because your life is just beginning.  At least, the point where I feel like it is beginning.  You already live on your own, you still work at the pharmacy and you still drive your first car (which I assure you, you will always love even though it's a junker).  You, my friend, are doing well for an 18 year old and I am still so proud of you, even today.  I know there are a lot of questions you may have and I still don't have all of the answers for you.  But as you work your way through the hard choices, just know that you are making the right ones.  Even the crisis question of this big day.  It is chilly and you aren't happy that you are supposed to wear a dress under your graduation gown.  And because you know your diploma is already printed and what could the school say now, you chose red pants and sandals instead of a dress and heels.  You are the only girl in your class that isn't wearing a dress but you know what?!  You go girl!  You are rocking your National Honors Society and bronze GPA sashes, so you deserve to wear whatever you want!  This personality will pull you through the trenches some day, I promise you.  There are things that you can't even begin to imagine right now, that are going to happen to you.  You will get married and have children.  You will be the best mom that you know how to be.  You may think right now that you can't handle ever having a child with special needs, but you will.  And you will be the best mom to that little boy.  He will be one of the most beautiful parts of your entire life.  And even though his life will be heart breaking, you will give him a beautiful life until his last breathes.  Your marriage will be tough and it won't last forever.  But don't worry too much...you will pull through it and you will go on to find love again.  You will find a love for emergency medicine and helping others.  Your life will change colors many times over the next 15 years so hold on tight.  Don't be worried or scared though, the rough roads will change seasons and you will weather the storms just fine.  Because that is who you are.  You are brave. You are strong. You are wonderful.  Don't ever let anyone tell you differently.  I know you have spent most of your childhood trying to prove that you are something to be proud of and I want you to open your eyes and see it!  You don't need approval from anyone else but yourself.  I am proud of you.  So as you cross that stage and say goodbye to this chapter of your life, try to be easy on yourself for who you are.  You will always worry a lot.  You will always be stubborn.  You will always second guess yourself.  You will always carry the burden of the world on your shoulders.  But give yourself grace.  Forgive yourself for all of the things you judge so harshly.  And I beg of you to do ONE thing...embrace the moments, both good and bad.  Because those moments will pass you by and even the ones that seem too hard at the time, will be ones you miss just as much as the good.  I am writing this to you from a time and place of peace, love and happiness.  So from me to you, let life begin!

Sincerely
Your 33 year old you.

Lily

As we drove home from her doctors appointment this afternoon and the endless questions about Christmas and her upcoming birthday turned into silence, I glanced into the backseat to see why she had gone so quiet.  I found her fast asleep.  As every mother in the world can relate, I found myself feeling weepy and grateful for this little girl I am so lucky to call my own .  I admire the little angelic face as any worry she may feel, is at rest and she is peaceful.  Today, more than most days, I felt the edge of my forever broken heart, jab at my soul. This little girl that I created over 8 years ago, who has endured some of the most heart breaking and traumatic moments than any child ever should. I never dreamed that she would go through so much in her childhood.  As I type this out, she has her head on my shoulder and just said "you are the best person in the whole world".  How do I put into words how I feel about this beautiful little girl?  I remember when Carter was a baby and I begged God to heal him.  I was begging God to allow my child to be naughty and get into things.  I begged for him to be able to make choices for himself and be able to do big things.  When God gave me Lily, he answered my pleas ten fold.  He gave me a little girl who has challenged me on a daily basis.  She has the tenacity and spunk beyond anything I have ever seen!  She has the biggest heart in the world. She has been through all of the ups and downs right along with me...so much loss and so much growth.  There have been countless moments when I have felt like a failure as a mother, but then she smiles...just like her brother.  Without even realizing it, she fixes everything.  She reminds me that it is okay.  She tells me that I am the best mom in the world.  When I wonder why life has turned out the way it has, I am reminded by my beautiful Lily, that life is good.  SO good.  We may be missing a huge part of our life and always will, but he lives on through his sisters.  He is constantly here, in their hearts, in their smiles, in their milestones, in their time-outs, in their achievements.  These girls remind me every single day that everything is going to be okay.  My only hope is that they will always know how much I love them and how much I owe them for everything they give me.  How grateful I am for them and how proud I will always be! 

Unwritten pages

As I left my first day of clinical orientation this afternoon, I was overwhelmed by everything that has changed.  I am not sure if overwhelmed is the right word, but it best describes how I felt.  After such a rough few years, I wondered if my life would ever find the one thing I craved.  But I can whole heartedly say that it has.  I am amazed every single day by how much has changed in such a short time.  3 years ago, I was still in a deep grief over the loss of my 7 year old son.  I was finalizing my divorce and trying to find my way as a single mother.  I wasn't sure week to week how I would pay all of my bills and still afford gas and groceries.  I was certain that I would never feel settled or at home again.  My whole entire life was in shambles.  The fear of how I was going to rise from the ashes kept me awake at night.  There are things that happened that I still cannot publicly talk about, but just know...life was HARD and very unfair.  When shit hits the fan, shit goes everywhere.  It took a long time, but I can say that I have finally washed most of it away.  I would like to think that all of the things that have happened, have made me stronger.  So much stronger.  How I got through all of it without losing my mind, is a miracle.  Things meant to break a person, has made me want to fight just that much harder.  Giving up is not in my blood.

I would like to think that my precious angel has been here all along, helping guide me where I am meant to be.  Some may question me for moving around in jobs quite a bit this last few years but the doors that have opened along the way, are why it makes sense.  I met this amazing man in my life because of it.  I have met some amazing friends. And I have learned so much!  As a result of my indecisiveness, it has led me to everything that makes sense.  As of this last week, I have permanent sole custody of my girls and have begun training as an ER tech.  Both things I have worked so hard for throughout this last few years.  I can't describe what has pushed me in the directions I have gone, but it's like an internal compass has been pulling me where I am meant to be, even when I had no idea why.  But here I am, writing this tonight surrounded by everything good!  I am home.  I am happy.  I am strong.  I am content.  I am healing.

Tonight I decided to tackle the last thing that has been a burden on my mind.  I started clearing out my storage unit.  It is full of memories and things from the old chapters of my life.  There are a few things I will hold on to for a while, things I will throw away and things I will donate.  But I want that unit gone.  As I pulled boxes out, I could feel a weight lifting.  I am ready to brush off the last remaining dust from my soul and let the unwritten pages of my story, continue.  

My craving in life is finally satisfied; I am at peace.

Laughter heals

Even though my journey has been full of everything that is meant to break a person, it has done everything but that.  I strongly believe that the way we see the world is what makes us or breaks us.  We can choose to cry for ourselves and wonder why bad things happen or we can take these struggles and grow.  This morning, the sun is shining, my girls are playing a board game together in the dining room while I make breakfast, Kirk is healing, we have music playing as we all bob our heads.  8 weeks ago today, our world was shaken when Kirk was shot in the line of duty.  There was uncertainty and fear for what the days ahead would hold. But here we are this beautiful morning and we are better than okay.

The day that Kirk came home, I was scared.  The idea of a rehab facility was out of the question for us.  I took an emergency leave from work and decided without a doubt, that I would take care of him.  A wheelchair, wound care, medications, acute blood loss, therapies and all.  I was scared but knew I could do it.  Kirk is the strongest person I've ever known so I knew we would could do it together.  Pushing him out of the SICU that day, was just the beginning.  Kirk was somber and quiet as he tackled the first transfer into the van and ride home.  His friends and I made the drive home and they helped me get him up the new ramp that his co-workers built over the front steps and into our new "normal".  Born from these scary firsts and unknowns, we have had experiences and adventures that have brought both tears and laughs.  

The first few weeks that he was home, I feared so many things especially him falling or something going wrong. I would check on him after showering, dressing or doing anything that took 10 minutes or longer.  He wouldn't tell me if he needed something especially if it would wake me up, so I had no choice but to hover.  And hover I did!  He won't admit it, but I'm pretty sure he finds joy in watching me panic or worry so in his own ways, provokes that.  But little did he know, I could keep up with that game!  I've had to threaten to take his walker away in order to reduce my worry (although I never actually did).  But the texts that followed with his parents in regards to me threatening to take away his mode of transportation, have made my face hurt from laughing so hard.  

Early into this journey, it was very difficult for Kirk to sleep in bed between the discomfort and positioning of his hand and leg so sleeping in the lazy boy was easiest.  But there was a night he wanted to try to get into bed.  As I said, he didn't like to wake me when he needed something but I am a light sleeper, so usually did any way.  That night he tried to sleep in bed, he tried to roll over...of course waking me.  I was half asleep and reached out for him when I felt his movement, but couldn't find him.  I yelled "KIRK, WHERE ARE YOU?' and he responded, "I'm right here, stop yelling at me".  I keep in close contact with his mom and texted her the next morning that I had lost him in the middle of the night.  She asked me, "where was he? In the bathroom?".  My response: "No, he had rolled over and just couldn't reach him".  

In the beginning, it was a feat just to get out the door on time for therapy or appointments.  Things that were once simple and thoughtless had become quite rigorous and time consuming.  There was the morning when we got out to the van to leave with 30 minutes to make it to therapy after all the careful planning...and I managed to lock my keys inside the van.  My only set of keys.  So there we were, him calling AAA and me calling therapy to let them know we wouldn't make it to the first appointment.  Not quite so funny in the moment, but we found humor in later.  We made it work and he was able to do physical therapy a little later in the day.  

A couple days ago, we had gale force winds.  No big deal, right?!  Well, we met Kirk's parents for dinner and when leaving the restaurant, I parked his wheelchair in front of my van so I could unlock the doors and open the side doors for the girls.  (I don't have a fancy key fob like most) This took me all of 3.6 seconds. When I looked back up, Kirk had vanished.  I ran to the front of the van to see if he had scooted himself to his side like he sometimes does, but he wasn't there either.  It hit me.  He must have gotten caught in a gust of wind and I panicked!  I turned around quickly and seen he was halfway across the parking lot.  He never yelled out or even raised an eyebrow.  There he was, in his wheelchair calm and collected as he waited for me to rescue him.  I'm sure it was quite the sight for his dad who was standing not too far away!  

Kirk has a long ways to go with recovery, but even through his tough days or many unknowns, we laugh and smile through the daily bloopers and countless ungraceful moments.  That is what life is all about.  We can't control the curveballs, but we can choose how we handle them.  So far, we are hitting home runs OUR way.  

Unwavering Strength

April 17th, 2019.  Kirk's birthday.  Those close to me know that birthday's are a big deal to me.  It's the day we celebrate the birth of those we love and all the reasons we are thankful for that special day that brought them to us.  Through all of my heartaches over the last 10 years, finding a man who is so solid, strong and wonderful is always something to celebrate.  I wake up every single day in awe of the person he is and thankful that he is such an important part of my life.  So I looked forward to his birthday.  I had already ordered a cake for him from a bakery near my brother and he planned to drive it to me early that afternoon.  I had worked the night before but set my alarm to only sleep for a few hours so I could get up and spend the day with him before he had to go to work that evening.  Even the girls were excited to get out of school to have cake with him.  Everything went as planned.  I'm pretty sure I wished him happy birthday at least 10 times that day.  But as I snapped pictures of him blowing out his candles and the girls faces with joy as they watched, I had a pit in the bottom of my stomach.  Something just didn't feel right.

I brushed it off and kissed him good-bye as he left for work.  We texted here and there as we always do before I lay down.  Around 9:40 that night, I texted him that Nola was having trouble falling asleep and he texted back saying to let her work through it.  At approximately 11:08, I woke to my phone vibrating relentlessly.  The first thing I seen on the screen were Facebook messages asking me if Kirk was working and if he was okay. I felt that pit turn into a boulder.  Then the hospital number starting ringing...I knew.  I knew something was majorly wrong. I managed to answer although I could barely breathe.  The doctor told me that they had Kirk in the ER and that he had been in a trauma.  She proceeded to tell me he had been shot twice.  The sheer panic set in.  I managed to ask her if he was okay and where he was shot at. She told me he was going to be okay and had been shot in the upper leg and hand.  A small bit of relief as I knew we could work with those injuries.  I remember another doctor getting on the phone who knew us personally and she explained that he was alert and angry but that he was going to be okay. Shortly after they hung up with me and I was still standing in the same spot hyperventilating and dry heaving, my phone rang again.  This time, the sergeant was on the phone and he told me not to drive and that an officer was on his way to pick me up and bring me to the hospital.  It was then that I realized I needed to get dressed and call someone to come over to be with the girls. My cousin is who had messaged me asking if Kirk was okay when she heard an officer had been shot so I knew she would probably answer.  She was able to get to our house before the officer and took over things with the girls so I could leave immediately.  The officer drove me to the hospital as fast as he could even though it felt like an eternity. I remember pulling into the ambulance bay and knowing I just had a short distance left to travel before I could see him and touch him.  I ran.  I ran the rest of the way. There he was.  Laying in the trauma room, calm and pale.  The first thing he said to me was, "I'm 100%" as I gasped and felt relief flood my soul.  This man who is always so strong and calm, still saying he was okay even as the trauma doctor explained that his femur was shattered and they needed another CT of his hand to see what damage was done there.  The pain, surgeries and days to follow are a blur.

There are things that stand out more than others.  His parents and brother rushing to the hospital and embracing me with so much support and love.  Driving Kirk's car home from the hospital after an officer brought it over and hearing the most profound song playing (Get Up by Shinedown) and I cried big ugly tears for the first time through this.  And the most vivid memory; the sight of seeing Kirk stand up from his bed with the help of physical therapists on day 4 and mastering the modified walker as if it was all he ever knew.  It was at that moment that I knew he would overcome this as strong as he has alway has.  His calm and steady demeanor never wavered.

We are at almost 2 months post injuries and I am even more amazed by him than I was before.  The unimaginable super man!  He still has a long ways to go in his road to recovery and healing, but has come so far already.  As hard as this all has been, I can say that this has brought us closer.  He makes me laugh and smile every single day. So many stories but for another blog.  I want to end this by saying how amazing the support has been from every angle.  From all of his family, friends, co-workers as well as mine.  They always say that the men in blue are a tight family and I can say first hand, it most definitely is.  I am so proud of this man that I am so lucky to call my own.

The Call

I know I have written about grief before.  It's a never ending cycle that people publish books about. The stages of it, the process of healing, the unusual ways that people learn to cope.  I could write about it for days and how different each day is; the song that goes on and on and on.  But the bottom line is, it sucks.  There are days when I feel like my past is just a dream and then there are days when the reality of it cripples me.  I have endless issues with over thinking, constructing scenarios that have never happened, self doubt.  I constantly fear the day when shit hits the fan again.  I brace myself for it.  Just the sight of something out of place on the kitchen counter or our mailbox being hit by the snow plow, throws me into irrational thoughts of what may have happened.  If we all had time, I could go on and on about the things my mind has blown out of proportion.  I have been through months of counseling to help me rewire the way my brain copes.  I have to talk myself off the ledge multiple times a week.  I drive myself nuts sometimes.  If you see me, will you see the pain on my face, feel the ache in my heart or the permanent pit in my stomach?  More than likely you will not.  I will keep my fears quiet and later find humor in the craziness.  But this is a cycle, a never ending cycle.  I often wonder if I will ever learn that it's okay.  Life is okay.  And even if it isn't, it will be.

Today, I got a phone call.  I recognized the number as that from University of Michigan hospital, expecting that it may be the cardiology department since my girls have an appointment next month.  But the voice on the other end was familiar.  It was one that a mother never forgets.  From the moment he asked if I was Sierra, I could hear the compassion and worry in his voice.  He said, "this is Dr. Innis, is this an okay time to talk?"  I felt so many emotions that I burst into tears.  YES, YES now is a good time, it will always be a good time to talk to this man.  He told me that he got a notification from the genetics study on my son's genome sequencing that we did back in 2013.  He explained that the pathogenic cardiac mutation changed to unknown.  This means we will continue to have my girls followed by cardiology throughout their lives.  He then told me that the unknown significance in the Mitochondrial mutation that came from me had changed to benign.  This means that we no longer need to worry that this finding caused Carter's medical issues.  So far, there's no indicator that he inherited a genetic problem from me or his dad.  I am not sure how to explain the way this feels.  All I know is that it makes me cry.  We are no closer to answers than we ever were before.  But to know that his genetic testing is still being reviewed regularly and that I will hear from this man who has meant so much to us, brings me peace.  Dr. Innis has been a place of comfort and alliance in this battle.  He has fought so hard to find answers.  He spoke at the 4th birthday benefit we organized to raise funds for research and he sat with the rest of Carter's team of specialists the day that we made the decision not to intervene anymore.  I remember sitting across from all the doctors as they explained that Carter was tired and that intubating and intervening wasn't helping him anymore and Dr. Innis got up mid way through and walked out.  He hurt with us.  This decision impacted so many people.  Carter mattered to his team, especially to Dr. Innis.  In the medical world, they see so many things and so many cases.  I imagine that doctors become conditioned and shut off from the pains that disease brings, but I can whole heartedly say that I felt the love and pain from his team as they sat through that decision with us.  We have yet to find the answers and hearing from the geneticist today reminded me that it still matters and although Carter's journey has ended, the search for a reason have not.  

All of this to say, grief sucks.  It can take us from okay to turmoil in an instant.  A smell, a voice, a picture, a memory.  It is real and it is hard.  For some reason that call this morning brought me back to the visits we had with the geneticist.  Sitting next to Carter in his wheelchair, the grin on his face and the sound of his voice as he watched and listened.  The planning it took to make the trip to Ann Arbor and the endless parking battle once we arrived in P2.  The twinge of hope I felt each time we went as I hoped for something, something that might help my little boy.  And although there was never a discovery or medication that worked, the team never gave up.  Even at the end, I like to think they still hadn't.  We all knew the same thing; that fighting was only causing suffering.  There is such a thing as saying enough is enough, is still fighting.  We had to make the hardest decision there is in life.  Letting go.  Letting go of all the things we couldn't fix. We had to let this beautiful boy go.  Fighting for what was right had become everything wrong.  So as I process the phone call I got today, I am still emotional and my heart feels raw. 

A decade

I am consumed with emotions this week as I try to wrap my mind around what can happen in a decade.  And the fact that it can fly by in the blink of an eye. 10 years ago today, I was doing last minute preparations for my first baby to be born.  Last belly pictures. Checking the diaper bag for everything I thought he would need.  I still remember painting my nails the night before, like it would matter that this tiny newborn would see them when he met his mommy for the first time.  I remember choosing garnet earrings to wear to the hospital because it was both of our birthstone.  I knew this little baby boy would change my life.  But never in a million years did I think all the dreams I had for him, would never come true.  That I wouldn't be mailing 10th birthday invitations and blowing up balloons to adorn the house for his party.  I was never prepared for that, in all of my planning.  I remember being filled with so much excitement and hope as I waited for him.  I still remember his first cries and seeing his face for the first time.  Never realizing that in a decade, I would be making paper mâché balloons to leave at the cemetery on his 10th birthday.  My heart was never ready for this, it will never be ready for this.  I am bitter that he was never given the same fair chance as most other kids.  I am robbed.  I was driving to work the other day and was flooded with uncontrollable tears as I realized how close this decade was rearing its ugly face.  As I imagine what he would look like if he was still here.  And then realizing that in order to post a birthday collage like I do every year for my children, that I cannot find new pictures...they will all be the same.  They will be his toothy 7 year old pictures from the last days he was here.  He will never age.  The pictures will never change.  Their backgrounds will age as the times change.  Over the last couple of weeks, I have been scrambling to find things that I now loose sleep over.  All I have left are things.  I am so thankful I saved so many things. His art projects, locks of hair, hospital arm bands.  I am thankful that I have always been obsessed with taking pictures and I have ever angle of his face so that I never have to worry about forgetting his features.  I can almost reach out and still feel his soft skin, I can almost imagine his giggles somewhere in the distance.  I still get hints of the way he smelled.  The way he searched for me when I walked into the room.  I still look.  I still look back at his seat in the van and imagine him there.  As this decade comes and goes, I just hope that I can still imagine him so close over the years.  Despite my pain as this birthday comes, I will celebrate him.  I will celebrate the life he had here and how much he changed our lives for the good.  How strong he was through all of his battles.  We will remember him and share memories of him and never forget, everything that he will always be, to us.

Happy birthday in heaven my precious son.

Moments in life that change everything

There are moments in life that will change everything about our future.  At the time, they only seem ordinary.  But the hands of time are forever altered.  We all have specific days that are etched in our memories. What we wore that day, the faces that we will never forget, the details that didn't seem like such a big deal in the moment, but you can pinpoint as you reminisce. For me, most of the days I remember in that kind of depth, are full of heart break and agony.  The day I last remember my parents living under the same roof and hugging my dad goodbye as he left with his clothes still on hangers as he carried them out.  The day I split my forehead open and needed 10 stitches.  The day that our country was forever changed and 9-11 took a whole new meaning, as I sat in my english classroom watching the news updates on the tv in the upper corner near the chalkboard.  The day that I found out my then husband was using heroin and everything I thought was good, was a lie.  The day my son took his very last breath in my arms and I screamed for it not to be true. 
But there are also moments that changed my life for the good.  The day that each of my precious babies were born.  The day I opened my results of my NREMT and passed!  As all of those days fast forward through my memories and thoughts, there is another day that brings a smile to my face every time I think of it and the moments that keep resulting from that day.  I was training at dispatch and it was my night to do a ride along with a county officer.  I arrived 10 minutes early and was led to the briefing room beforehand.  I felt awkward and out of place but found an empty seat and tried to go as unnoticed as possible.  Soon, officers started coming in and finding seats as well.  I was introduced to the officer I would be riding with and soon after, another man came in quietly and sat at the end of the table, to my left.  His last name embroidered on his chest, stood out.  Carter. He had a styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand and didn't say much.  But I noticed him.  I remember the officer to my right spilling his cup of coffee and the others cracking jokes as they discussed any issues for the night.  I proceeded through the night doing my ride along and going about life.  A few months later, I got a friend request on Facebook from a name that took my breath away, Kirk Carter.  So close to my son's name, Carter Erick.  I had to look twice to make sure I was seeing it right.  When I took a look at his profile and realized he was the officer to my left, I decided to accept it.  Thankfully, he reached out from time to time and would ask me how I was doing.  It took a little time before we started talking more and more and he eventually asked if we could text since it would be easier.  The changes to come from this, is profound.  This man came into my life quietly but full of everything I needed.  From that first night when I was finally brave enough to go hang out with him and realized that sitting with him and doing nothing but talking, was everything right.  There was something in his eyes and in that smile, every time I seen them, that held me.  There have been so many times in the 14 months we have been dating that life has been off balance but he remains calm and collected as he tells me it's okay. He is the constant in my life that I was missing for so long.  I walked away from dispatch after 11 weeks of training, which was one of the hardest decisions I have had to make.  It just wasn't for me, even though emergency services is my calling in life.  But what I found while there, was why it was meant to be.  I don't know what the future has in store but I know right now, life just feels right. That man is everything that both myself and the girls need.  He is patient, gentle, kind, fun and wonderful. 
It's nice to be able to share how good life is for us right now! 

Another New Year

It has been 18 months, 14 days since I lost my hero.  Month by month, life continues to change. It continues to challenge and strengthen me, but it also relentlessly breaks me.  I have heard that the second year is harder than the first.  I'm not really sure it's harder or easier and doubt that it will ever be either, more or less than the other.  It's day by day.  Some days I am "okay" and some days I can physically feel my heart breaking.  The mere mention of his name still takes my breath away.  The girls will ask to listen to his songs or watch his videos and depending on which type of day I am having, I sometimes can't bear it.  I still find random things in the most unexpected places that can change my day in an instant.  Each birthday and holiday that comes and goes, is very difficult.  We still include him in everything we do, but his absence is debilitating.  I still cannot part with any of his things and his room is still in tact.  It's the only part of him that is still here and I am not sure I will ever be able to tuck away his clothes in boxes or part with the few medical supplies I still have.  Maybe that day will come, but not any time soon.  Just as people have said, I find that people speak of him less and very rarely ask me how I am doing with his loss.  Life moves on, I suppose.  But for me, his life will always go on...at least in mine.  

As I attempt to move forward and at the same honor my son, I am finishing the EMT program in the next 3 weeks.  It is something I have said for many years that I would love to do.  Medical became the biggest part of my life for 7 years and settled into my life as home.  Getting through the program has not been easy, but I am happy to say I have almost made it.  Mid-way through Carter's life I had hoped to do this with the goal of being able to better care for him at home.  But now, I hope to be able to help and support other families as they are making those difficult decisions and calls for their loved ones.  EMT is not the end goal; it is the beginning.  I am still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  But I know I want to help people.  I want to be of help to those on their hardest days, in some form or another.  I can still remember the faces of those who truly cared and hoped for my son.  Those who cried beside me as I wept.  Those who grabbed my hand when I had nothing else to hold on to.  You never forget those people.  

So as I come up on 2018, I have no new year's resolutions or long term goals.  I simply take each day, one minute at a time.  I find victory in the smiles of my girls, the shifts I complete, the bills I pay, an empty laundry basket, my gas tank above 1/4, a decorated Christmas tree, and more than 6 hours of sleep at night.