Serendipitous Girl

This morning, while tears streamed down my cheeks, I sat in my living room in awe. Though it was a bittersweet moment, it was a moment filled with sweet justice. Today a lion roared, excuse me, lioness, and she roared loudly. I watched the sentencing of Larry Nassar; no Dr. in front of his name any longer, as he has been rightfully stripped of his title. While Judge Rosemarie Aquilina did not set out to be a hero, today, she, along with every victim of Larry Nassar, are my heroes. These women knew they were facing a demon bigger than just one little man. Still, they bravely came forth and brought his darkness into the light.  This depraved, vile man was sentenced to 60 years in federal prison for child pornography, with an additional 175 years from Judge Aquilina. It is a far cry from a six-month sentence, with parole in three months. Her sentence was bold; it is an assurance any light of day he ever sees will only be from behind bars.  As I read over the po...

Twenty-four hours in a day, seven days in a week, 8,760 hours in a year. It has been a little more than two months since this battle, for time, took on a life of its very own. Time is no respecter of persons. Simply put, it is a precious gift. A gift we take for granted in the routine of life, almost assuming we have an unlimited supply. For all our hopes and wishes, we cannot pause time, nor stop it. We can only cherish the moments allotted to us, comprehending the gift we have been bestowed. November 18, her birthday, another milestone; 84 years young or 735,840 hours of living. Dinner at her favorite restaurant, surrounded by the love of her family. What began in 1950 as a simple family of three, two years later became a family of four. Now we have grown into a family of eighteen. Small by some comparisons, still it is ours–mine. The few who are aware of the truth know this will most likely be her last birthday celebration. The gift of knowledge a...

Last spring, I wrote a piece chronicling the journey of my daughter's illness with POTS. After publishing it, my son lightheartedly commented, "Now it is time to write about our journey." I cringed because there was nothing lighthearted about our journey. I uttered the truth from within my heart, "I am not sure I can." While I knew I could write something, I was keenly aware of the deep trauma still tucked right below the surface. I was emotionally raw and drained from the events of the past year. If I was not careful, I was keenly aware that a volcanic disaster of pain, remorse, and regret would come spewing out, and no one could halt the explosion.  I wrestled with the uncertainty of where my writing would take us. I was unsure if we were ready to revisit the past scars jointly, knowing I would open fresh wounds and possibly old ones as well. Was Brady prepared to read my thoughts? If he was, how would he feel when I was done? As difficult as the pas...

I am sure this will piss off someone, but I am tired of being politically correct and am at the point where I do not give a damn who I piss off...so here goes. Unlike Harvey Weinstein, Matt Lauer was already a household name across America. Like most people, I woke up to the news of his overdue termination from NBC. To #NBC and the #Todayshow , kudos for finally doing what you should have done years ago. I was not shocked or surprised, only because I typically have a sixth sense regarding abusive individuals. The sight of Matt Lauer consistently made my radar go into overdrive. Only if I had this innate sense in my teenage years or my twenties; then again, the experiences from those days probably heightened this ability in the first place. The ability to sit in a room and sense an individual's depravity, lurking right below the surface; the ability to sense their face is the mask, hiding the monster within. What surprises me are the comments from individuals on social media. Comme...

There it is, that all too familiar sound once again. With the knowledge that there is little I can do but hold her hair out of the way and gently rub her back, I jump to my feet. I am at a loss to help her, but at least I feel like I am doing something. I wait for her to finish so I can empty her metal trash can and disinfect it. I have lost count of how many times I have done this in the past few hours. She looks up at me from the floor with her dull, darkened eyes as her lifeless voice mutters, "I feel like I am dying." Hearing those words prompts my heart to sink a little further. I personally know her pain, but I am helpless to remedy her suffering. Somberly, I reply, "I know, Sweetie." These episodes always seem to begin late in the evening. Jakers and Georgie, two of our furbabies, hear the unnatural noises coming from Jayde's bedroom at 2 A.M., and they come to investigate. It is like a distress signal. They are there to comfort her, remaining by her side...

October 26, 2016 Homecoming, coupled with the change in weather, sent Jayde's POTS into a tailspin. No matter how sick she has felt, she has attempted to work on her writing and schoolwork almost every day. She spent the good part of her birthday violently ill, hugging a trash can for seven hours, with her resting heart rate hovering at 160 BPM. Watching all this unfold and the resistance from some of her teachers to recognize her ADA 504 plan prompted the following thoughts this morning.  Humans are creatures of habit. Most individuals do not welcome change with open arms. It is not a character flaw. It is simply the way we were created. Reflecting on the past several years, I see life has become a proverbial roller coaster, with peaks and valleys, unexpected twists and turns. We have mastered the art of riding the peaks and work hard to find the silver linings, especially when we are in the valleys. However, sometimes, the unexpected twists and turns can be challenging to navigat...

This post was written in the summer of 2016. It is the recognizable beginning of Jayde's Journey. Little did I know when I wrote it that POTS should have been the least of our worries, but each time I read it, so much makes sense. I was sitting in my kitchen, talking with two dear friends, and they encouraged me to share the recent journey our family has experienced. From this conversation, I knew I needed to share Jayde's journey. Thus, #jrsjourney grew wings. This post is a mother's/caregiver's view of what living with POTS is like. I once believed our journey began the first week of November 2009, when Jayde became ill with the Swine Flu, but the swine flu only made the invisible more visible. Jayde was two when she had her first migraine. When I was six, I encountered my first one. So, I knew how debilitating and horrible they were. At first, the thought that she could be experiencing a migraine at the age of two did not seem possible. Until she said, "Mommy, t...