Monday, March 25, 2013


When one mentions the word "home" a person generally thinks of the place where they lay their head at night.  A place that contains ones things; a place of current residence perhaps. 

When I think of the word home, I associate it with the place of my roots; Eastern Kentucky.  A place where people know everything about you.  A place where you are known as some one's daughter or granddaughter, not by your own name.  A place where your word is as good as a written contract.  A place where people pray for one another, whether they know you or not.  I am so very proud to be from Eastern Kentucky.

With that being said, in two weeks, I will make a trek back to my place of birth.  I will venture back into the mountains of Eastern Kentucky.  While it has been some time since I have spent any real time back home, this trip will be a short one, so as I can help in celebrating my great aunt's birthday.

I remember so very well, when I was a child, I hated the mountains.  I felt as though they held me in, blocking me from the outside word.  And as a child, I couldn't wait to get away from their hold.  As I grew older, I learned to love the mountains and what they stood for.  As if they protected me from the outside world.  Shielding me from the wars that raged on the "other side".  When I became an adult, I cherished the mountains.  However, I knew I no longer belonged there.  I yearned to be elsewhere.  I needed to get away, for myself. 

It has been more than ten years since I left the safety of my Eastern Kentucky mountains.  In that time, I have been exposed to and witnessed exactly what it was that those mountains kept me from.  While I am so thankful that I have had the opportunity to see things of this world that weren't available there, there are so many more that I wish that I had not.  There are times when I long for my mountains.  I long to see the fog rise in the early morning, hovering just below the peaks of the mountains, as though they are halos.  I miss the smells of spring and the sounds of the crickets in the summer.  I miss the simpleness of home that I took for granted when I was there. 

For me, it is as though when I left, I made my choice.  I know that I will never be able to go back to the place that will always be my home.  I will never be able to live the life that I once hated.  Not because I can't, but because it simply doesn't exist there anymore.  The simple way that I looked at the world, is no longer.  Life is tough, regardless of where you live.

While I am home, I will savor my time of protection amongst the mountains.  I will breath deep the mountain air.  I will slow my pace to savor and appreciate all that the mountains have to offer.  Knowing that some day, when my body is tired and my soul is ready for eternal rest, that I will be able to lay once again in my mountains.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Do you think it strange?

When I was pregnant with Wyatt, I remember thinking of him growing up.  I remember wondering what sports or other activities he would become a part of.  I recall thinking about what his future significant other would be like and if I would ever become a grandmother. 

It's strange the paths our lives take us.  I now no longer ponder these things.  I now wonder when we will be able to take a bath in the tub.  I wonder when he will be able to go the mall in the winter time, without worrying about catching something that could put us in the hospital.  I wonder when we can go on a trip, just the three of us, without someone having to stay up all night to watch his sats and be vigilant in case his vent goes off.  I wonder when I will ever hear him speak the words "mommy" or "I love you".   

At one time, I wondered if we would ever come home from the hospital.  During that time, I think that my mind stopped allowing me to think about the future.  I still wonder about things in the future, but I have come to realize that each day is more important that the last.  I acknowledge how precious time is.  I cherish every single hug.  I find myself holding him and simply inhaling his scent.  I love that smell.  Even when he has the sweaty little boy smell.  I adore it.  I long for it sometimes.

We are at a place in our lives when we have begun to experience "normal" childhood experiences.  Behavioral issues, while nearly non-existent, are at the forefront.  We are raising a very strong willed, hard headed little boy.  I know that these traits have gotten us to where we are today.  However, I don't want to raise a child who refuses to listen and demands to get his way.  It's a balancing act of trying to discipline the best way we deem fit, while working with nurses who put their two cents in, all of the time.  This may seem strange to hear, but I love these times.  I love knowing that each temper tantrum is totally normal.  It's a normal two year old event.  It's so nice to have talks with my husband that include what time he went to bed or what time he woke up, as opposed to how low his sats have been or whether we had to bag him.

I still have big dreams and wishes for Wyatt.  I want him to be happy in life.  I want him to feel fulfilled.  I want him to be able to have no regrets.  I wish him more love than his heart and hand can hold.  I pray that whatever he dreams, he has the conviction to fulfill.  And I hope that at the end of my life, I am able to look back and smile and know that I have fulfilled my purpose.  Being the mother that Wyatt deserves. 

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Mindless rambles from a mommy's mind

While I realize it has been a while, I still wanted to update you all on how my peanut is doing.

Mister Wyatt has conquered the chew!  Ok, maybe not conquered, but he is getting the hang of it.  One thing that we have noticed is that he loves to eat.  Ok, so this isn't news to anyone, but seriously, he loves to eat.  He has yet to turn anything down.  He even ate a garlic pickle with so much gusto, that you would have thought it was a piece of chocolate cake. 

This chewing is a HUGE step for us.  Wyatt has been in speech therapy since birth.  His very first therapist was amazing.  However, she moved.  Our second therapist was a very nice lady, but wasn't as aggressive as I thought she needed to be.  We have since moved to a new therapist with a different company, and Wyatt has flourished!  He sees her twice a week; once for feeding therapy and once for speech therapy.  He adores her and she is so good with him.  She recognized very early on that he is head strong and needs someone who is tough with him.  His sweet cherub face will not only charm the pants off of you, but will convince you that he needs to get his way.  Thanks goodness our new therapist recognizes this and doesn't play into his charm!

Wyatt continues to walk assisted.  He has yet to take his first step without holding onto furniture, holding someones hands or with his walker.  But, I have total and complete faith that this is going to happen very, very soon. 

As for his vent situation.  He continues to use the CPAP support when he sleeps.  Recently we were having sleep apnea issues, but we have determined what causes it and have all but remedied it ourselves.  Wyatt loves to sleep on his stomach.  However, when he does, his vent alarms that he is apnec.  This is because his trach is actually smaller than it should be and is allowing for what they a leak (because his trach isn't cuffed).  Wyatt's leak has always been huge (which also allows for us to be able to hear him when he vocalizes), but as he grows, he needs a larger trach.  The issue now is whether or not to upsize his trach, or allow him to keep the smaller one, and become more aggressive with weaning him off of the vent.  Decisions, decisions!

Wyatt likes to show us daily that he is two.  He hasn't hit those "terrible twos" yet, but we get glimpses of it.  I told Mike last night that if he like this at two, I dread the teen years!  He cried for twenty minutes last night because he didn't want to put his pj top on.  I mean, come on.  He was so tired, that he was overly tired, and it caused a serious meltdown!  I hate those meltdowns.  I hate that I can't just fix it and make it go away.  However, I love that I am now complaining about normal, regular mom stuff!

Randomness time! 

Current thing that stinks:  Owning a home that you are not living in.  So, I don't know if I have talked about this in the past, but I'm going to complain now.  Please feel free to skip ahead to the next paragraph.  It will be much more exciting!  We still own an home in Michigan; the land of cold and snow!  I have tons of friends who still live there and love and miss them all.  The state itself, not so much!  When we left, our house had been on the market for well over a year, and we had lowered our asking price three times.  The problem was that we couldn't compete with new homes being built at the time.  Our solution was to hire a rental company and get renters in it.  Our next problem became our rental price.  Because the market tanked after we bought the home, there was no way we could get out of if what we owed on it.  So, with renters and after our rental company takes their cut, we are still out of pocket a nice chunck of change every month.  Not to mention that we currently have to rent here, because of said home in Michigan.  So, now we want to list it again and try to sell it.  Our problem being that our rental contract says that if we list it, it has to be with our current rental company (who is also a realty company).  However, they only have one house on the market, and it has been on the market for a long time.  That doesn't exactly say aggressive to me.  On top of that, on Christmas Eve of this year, we received a big tax bill from the County of Kalamazoo for taxes owed from 2009 because we no longer live in that house.  UGH!  They have gotten us coming and going!  So frustrating!

Told you it was bad. You should have skipped straight to this paragraph!  hehehe

Things that rock:  My honey got me tickets to see Elton John!  I. Can't. Stand. It.  For me, he is one of my all time faves and one of my bucket list concerts.  I mean, come on.  It's Elton John.  My fave song is Tiny Dancer.  I dunno why, I mean, I have the rhythm of a rock.  I couldn't dance if I had a gun to my head and someone asked me to pirouette.  It's not good.  Anyway, I adore Elton John.  I think he is amazing. 

Other things that rock:  Wyatt is now in the 25th percentile for length!  YAY!  Until about 3 months ago, he was considered to in the under 3rd percentile for length.  However, since he has started to stand and walk, he has grown like weed!  While I want him to be a baby forever, I always want to be big a healthy.  I as thrilled to hear this news.  His weight has remained the same (65th percentile) with no gain or loss.  We are trying to maintain it so that it is easier for him to be able to move, but our boy loves to eat!  Now that he is eating more by mouth, we are able to cut back on his formula intake, which is nice.  But, he is growing!  And I love it (and hate it)!

So, I have rambled for quite a while now.  I'm sure you are tired of me.  Just remember, it takes me forever to post, so this may be it for a while!  I can't imagine why, what with working full time and a two year old!  I love working and hate it all at the same time.  I am so thankful that I am able to work four days a week.  And, some weeks we have as many as 8 appointments with therapy and doctors appointments.  But I often feel guilty that I am working at all and not at home with Wyatt.  I know that it would be different if there weren't a nurse in our home all of the time.  It is what it is.  We take the good, we take the bad ....  You know the rest!  It's crazy and chaotic and I love each and every minute of it!

Saturday, November 3, 2012

Thankful, day three

Thankful, day three.

Mikey.  His name enough should suffice.  

Mike is my better half, in every single way.  He is the yin to my yang.  He is the calm in my storm.  He is my strong and steady.  He is my rock.

Of course, as you all probably know, Mike and I met online.  Some said that I was crazy, any maybe I was.  But in the end, my gut was right.  He is the most amazing man I have ever met.

Mike puts up with my crap.  And man, do I have plenty of it.  I am honest and demanding.  I am messy, and crude at times.  I like things how I like them, when I like them and where I like them.  And he lets me.  Don't get me wrong, he is the first person to put me in my place.  But all in all, he has spoiled me like no person should ever deserve to be spoiled. 

By no means are we perfect.  We are far from it.  He hates that I leave my towel on the floor.  I hate that he chews his nails.  He can't stand it that I won't cut Wyatt's hair and I hate it when he doesn't hurry for things.  But all in all, we work things out.  We communicate about how we feel.  We make time for date night, every Thursday night.  We know the value of each other.

Don't even get me started on how amazing he is as a dad.  He and Wyatt are so funny together.  Sometimes I swear they are the same age.  He crawls with Wyatt and throws him in the air.  He cuddles with him and kisses him, always telling him that the loves him.  And he does, I can see it.

Ours is the kind of love I am proud my son will see.  The kind of love that dissolves boundaries.  The kind of love that others are jealous of.  I am so thankful for Mike.  I am thankful he is mine, and I am his.  I am so thankful that he chose me.  I don't feel adequate for him at times, but I am every so thankful he thinks I am. 

But most of all, he loves me.  He loves me with a deeper love than I have ever experienced before.  A scary kind of love that stops me in my tracks sometimes.  He loves me fat and thin.  He loves me rich and poor.  He loves me crazy and sane.  He honestly loves me.  In no way will I ever be able to match his love for me.  But, I promise I will spend the last of my days trying to.

I love you Michael Paul.  I am thankful you were online ten years ago and that I was the "Southern" girl you chose. I love you to the moon and back.

Friday, November 2, 2012

Thankful, day two

Thankful, day two.

Today I am thankful to rock my baby boy to sleep.

There were many occasions when we were in the hospital, that I was unable to even hold my baby.  Days upon end, I would sit at his bedside, holding his hand or rubbing his foot, longing to hold him in my arms.  His tiny body, contained tubes and wires, helping him breathe.  There was no place for mama's arms.  He was fragile, and, I admit, I was scared.  Frightened that if I held him, I could disconnect a tube and cause his breathing to stop.  So, for days and weeks on end, I held and rubbed his hands and feet. 

I tell you this not for sympathy.  I tell you so that you can understand why rocking my boy to sleep, even at 2 in the morning, is a blessed occurrance.  So that you can understand why the smallest of things in your world, may hold a much bigger place in someone elses.  I treasure every evening after bathtime, when I can cuddle close, sing Fire and Rain (sometimes dozens of times) and rock my angel boy to sleep.  I praise God that his breathing is on his own.  That I can wrap my arms around him and bring him comfort.  And that the last sound to his day, is my voice and the beat of my heart.

Thankful, day one

While many of my friends have taken to Facebook to express their thankfulness during this month of Thanksgiving, I have chosen to blog.  I find that Facebook limits the emotions I tend to have (and can't contain to a certain number of characters).  So, here we go.

Thankful day one.

Today, I am thankful for my faith.

While by no means do I profess to be a perfect person of faith, but I know my heart.  And I am ever thankful that God loves me despite the fact that I don't deserve it.

Over the past two years, my faith has been tested.  There have been times that I would pray, not knowing if they were heard.  There were times when I questioned the very existence of God.  But, I can honestly say that being on the other side, I could not have made it without my faith.  I know that in those doubting times, that I just needed to be angry.  And during those very same times, I continued to pray.  I prayed for the healing of my son.  Many of those prayers were in the midst of not even knowing what was wrong, but I had faith in healing of it. 

And you see, Wyatt's healing has never been about my time.  Things don't happen in our time.  They happen when they should, in His time.  I see Wyatt's healing every single day.  I see his progress from that place where I questioned everything.  Wyatt continues to amaze me.  His healing is visual for me now.  I can see how my God is laying his hands upon my baby and healing him, every single day.

While I don't know where tomorrow will take me, what I do know is that I am not alone in that journey.  I am not alone in each and every step I take.  He is always there, holding my hand and guiding me, even when I don't deserve it.  And for that, I am eternally thankful.

Sunday, September 23, 2012


Here I am, nearly two years later, reflecting on all that is.

When Mike and I received the news that were were having a baby, we were elated.  After six months of "trying" and two months of "really trying", our dreams were becoming a reality.  Three months later we received the news that our unborn angel appeared to have his heart on the wrong side of his chest.  

I will say, living with this secret nearly killed me.  I didn't want people to know.  I didn't want people to feel sorry for me.  I didn't want people to take pity on me.  I hate pity.  So, I lived with this pain.  

I prayed every single day, a million times a day, that God would heal my angel.  That whatever it was, that he would just make it better.  Every single day.  

We had showers honoring our baby boy.  People gathered to give gifts and see a pregnant me.  With a false smile, I forged ahead.  Celebrating with a secret is hard.  I smiled for pictures with a broken heart. 

We went diligently to our monthly appointments with our specialist.  We saw how he was growing and got to see his sweet face.  Still, the pain of not knowing was terrible. 

The not knowing.  Not knowing what?  Not knowing if he was going to live.  Not knowing if his heart was going to beat once he was born.  Not knowing if he was going to breathe on his own.  Not knowing what was wrong with our baby.  It's the not knowing that will kill.

Fast forward.  Through nearly two years of hospitalizations and doctors and nurses.  Through rides in ambulances and pleas to God to "make it better."  Through episodes of literally saving my son's life.  Through amazingly supportive friends and family.  Through words spoken on deaf ears.  

I sit here today, the mother of the most amazing little boy on the Earth.  Wyatt is head strong, funny, intelligent and a ball of energy.  He is always on the go and relentless.  He is loving and concerned for others.  He is my angel on Earth. 

You see, during these past two years, I have lived with every emotion imaginable.  I was angry that God would do this to my son.  I was fearful that I would lose him.  I was so happy to be a mother.  I was jealous of mothers of healthy babies, who I didn't feel deserved that honor.  Most of the time, these emotions got the best of me.  Most of the time, I couldn't see the other side.

Two years in, I get it.  I get the big picture.  My prayers never feel on deaf ears.  My prayers were not in vain.  Wyatt is perfect; the truest vision of perfection.  Every day I see the healing.  I see him getting stronger.  I experience the miracle that I have been given.  I live in perfection.

While I didn't want to hear others tell me that God knew what he was doing, those words were planted, like a root in my soul.  I didn't want to hear that in fact God had given me a gift, not a punishment.  Looking back, I know that pain was at the root of all my anger.  I did feel like I was being punished.  Often I would look back at the mistakes I have made in my life, and analyze each and every one, valuing them to see which one caused this heartbreak.  Now I realize, I was looking in the wrong place.  I analyzed the mistakes as if this was a punishment.  Not the successes with Wyatt as my reward.  

I have been given the most amazing gift.  I struggle daily with being a good mother.  Not giving Wyatt limits.  Allowing him to fall and get back up.  I realize that I will struggle for the rest of my life with these things, but I am so thankful I am able to do just that.  Able to have this perfect life in which I have been given.