Serendipitous Girl

Yesterday was the usual…a doctor’s appointment (this time for me, woohoo!), dinner out with my Baby Girl, then a little shopping. Jayde-Rhiannon wanted to take her bargain shopping queen of a mamma into Marshalls. After two hours and a basket full of treasures…we were done. No, I am not going to divulge the total…Chris has still not seen the receipt, but every item was necessary, and we saved a lot of money. Of course, during our shopping escapade, we could not forget our furbabies. Jayde and I were so excited to find a cute little scratching post for our feline zoo. Because seven-foot tower in our living room, the corner of our custom-made sofa, and a few door frames are not merely sufficient to sharpen the tiny little daggers on their feet. Every day with the Jackson Pride is an adventure. For the most part, all “six” of them are cute fluffy extensions of our family, and we spoil them whenever we can. Every cat was enthralled with the new toy. After witnessing their enthusiasm, I tol

There they are, the words I am not supposed to utter. Nonetheless, the unspeakable phrase comes rushing out of my mouth, much like a dam that has broken. The peacefulness of acceptance is waning today. Fortunately, my daughter and I are at opposite ends of the house, she is safely out of earshot when I screech, “I GIVE UP!” I am unable to re-cork my explosion of  words. Instantly regretting my emotionally charged outburst, as it becomes a cloud of guilt cascading over me like a waterfall. Though it can be daunting, caring for a chronically ill child requires you to keep your wits and maintain composure whenever possible. You learn to master the art of squashing, the varying emotions, deep below the surface. Even when it feels almost impossible, somehow you learn to figure it out and it becomes your new norm. I walk out onto our deck, allowing the necessary tears to fall, collecting myself before I re-enter our home. A  few days before my outburst I sat in our living room, with my ph

I am lying in bed trying to wake up. I grab my phone and browse over my calendar. The last few months have been a whirlwind. I have always relied heavily on my phone's calendar. (Yes, I was a Blackberry addict in the early days.) Although lately, it would be impossible for me to tell you the day of the week without my phone's assistance. I am submerged in a deep haze. Our schedule for the next ten days is overwhelming. What was I thinking of scheduling two major doctor’s appointments on the same day?!? The simple answer—I wasn't. To the Super Moms who do it all, are beautifully put together, your homes are clean, and dinner is on the table at 6 P.M. every day—I applaud you. I also wonder when you sleep and if you are actually human. My feet hit the floor, yet all I want to do is crawl back in my bed, pull the covers over my head, and sleep away the grief. I am silently praying when I wake up, this ache in the pit of my stomach, and the accompanying heaviness that begins fro