Serendipitous Girl

Today marks one year since the gift of time ran out, and we lost my Mommom to cancer.  Not long ago, I was advised, "The first year after losing a loved one is the most difficult." With the loss of a loved one, life abruptly changes. It is categorized. Suddenly there is a before, and there is an after. Time becomes measured in weeks, months, and years. I assume it is accurate to an extent. There are first holidays and special occasions without the person we love. Yet, it is the little day-to-day moments missing from our life, which become the most significant reminders of the poignantly palpable void. Brady and I discussed a conversation between him and his boyfriend, Mario, about getting a pet. While Mario is an animal lover, his hesitation stems from growing attached and the pet passing. Brady's reply was simple, "It's the circle of life." I was telling Chris a few days ago, "I wish I could go back to a year ago, to immediately after my Mommom passed.

Barely a year ago, we began traveling down a new path in Jayde's healthcare journey. Once a week, we check in at our local hospital's pediatric unit so that Jayde can receive IV therapy.  Throughout this journey, we have become accustomed to bracing for the impact. We were informed from the beginning, a port was a likelihood. As the weeks turned into months, the possibility became more of an inevitability. Upon her recent EDS diagnosis, as hesitant as we were to take the next step, we knew Jayde receiving a port was necessary.  The days following her port surgery were emotional, especially for Jayde. Seeing the new incision, soon to be another scar, is a constant reminder of her poor health and her body's shortcomings. There was nothing I could do to console my Baby Girl except put my arms around her and allow her to feel the many emotions she needed to feel. Today was her first IV therapy since surgery, time to test out her new port. She was anxious all day. While I was on