The beginning of the year found Mike in the hospital for 67 long days, with a week, or a 2 day home visit in between, before readmission. Days were filled with waiting rooms, unanswered questions, fear and prayers whispered through exhaustion. His health continued to demand center stage, starting with the flu, pneumonia, stage 5 kidney failure, starting dialysis 3 times a week. Eventually discharged to home on oxygen. A chest port placed then months later removed, an arm fistula procedure, a fall which caused a broken back in two places, his T11 & T12 thoracic spine, that added another layer of pain and limitation. Then he got another heart stent, a diabetic ulcer on his foot that took months to heal. For more than half the year he had a visiting nurse three times a week, a constant reminder that life had shifted into survival mode. Along side the medical battles came deep grief, 2 aunts, a cousin and several friends and acquaintances passed away. Loss seemed to stack upon loss and...

  I was only 19 years old when I had her, still figuring out who I was, let alone how to be someone’s mother. I remember holding that tiny baby girl with the chubby cheeks and head full of hair, thinking how far away the future felt. Forty wasn’t even a number I could imagine then, yet here we are. It doesn’t seem possible that in 5 days, my first baby will be 40 years old. In my mind, she is still the little girl whose hand fit perfectly in mine, the child whose laugh filled our home, the teenager who tested my patience and taught me more than she’ll ever know. Time moved quietly, and quickly, sneakily really, carrying us through sleepless nights, to school days, heart breaks and proud milestones. Becoming a mom at such a young age was both terrifying and transformative. I grew up along side her. We learned together, sometimes gracefully and sometimes stumbling our way through. I think she shaped me as much as I shaped her and although I made mistakes along the way, I wouldn’t cha...

Last year was the kind of year that shakes you to your core. The kind of year where the hospital hallways blur together, where every time your phone rings, your heart drops and where you start memorizing numbers on monitors that you never wished to understand. From December until February, my husband spent 90% of his time in the hospital. There were moments when I truly thought he wouldn’t make it. Moments when the fear felt like a boulder sitting on my chest and it was hard to breathe. I tried to be brave, to be a source of strength for him, I forced myself to smile when I could have just as easily cried. Inside, I was scared. When someone you love is hurting, really hurting, you start living minute by minute praying for small miracles and realizing how fragile life feels when it’s someone’s life you can’t imagine living without. We watched his health spiral in ways we never expected. Each set back felt like another piece of the rug slipping out from under our feet. I remember the exh...