4 Years

It's officially been 4 years since we began our forever.

I tried to think of the moment that I fell in love with David...

Maybe it was when we made paper boats and attempted to float them down the ditches in Cedar. Maybe it was when we went hiking....and I tripped...sending us both sliding down the mountain. I ripped my pants...and was covered it mud...yet he didn't hesitate to hold my mud caked hand. Maybe it was the way he would bring Star Wars fruit snacks to class. Maybe it was his sense of adventure....or love of superheros. Maybe it was seeing his hilarious dance moves in the car.  Maybe it was the way he talked about his family....and how he clearly adored them. Maybe it was when he told me all about his heart...the past...and the unknowns of the future.

I can't pinpoint the exact moment....all I know is that it happened. Before I knew it, I couldn't imagine a day....month...year...or life that didn't include him.

I know 4 years is a mere ripple in time...

Yet in some ways, it feels as if we have lived a lifetime in these 4 short years.

In 4 years, we have moved 8 times. We have lived in 3 different states.  We have met and became friends with some of the most incredible people. David became Dr. Brown. We welcomed the most beautiful little girl into our lives...and sailed some of the toughest waters with her....until the moment we had to let her sails take her home again. We've made some of life's hardest decisions. We have got through 3 heart surgeries for David. We planted our roots in St. George. And...we most recently welcomed our sweet boy into our world.

(Shout out to the amazing Ora Despain...I always love looking at our wedding pictures because of her!)

I'm a different person then I was 4 years ago in so many ways....there is so much that I may be uncertain of at times.....but one thing that has never wavered is my love for David.

He is my anchor in every way. He believes in me when I don't believe in myself. He is patient. He has the most gentle and selfless soul in the world....(even though he would disagree). He is the least judgmental person I know

He is determined...and has a huge sense of duty to do the right thing. He has held me together numerous times as I have fallen apart in his arms. He has always been there to tightly hold my hand...keeping me tethered...especially on the days when I feel like I'm drowning in waters of anxiety or depression. He can wordlessly remind me that we are always in this together.

As we have became parents....he is always center stage with me...whether it is blow out diapers, sleepless nights, or countless bedtime songs.

He loves Adalyn endlessly....Each and every day of her life he whispered to her how special she was. He sang so many songs....and danced around with her when all she wanted was to be held. Watching his father heart ache for his angel daughter has been  the most painfully beautiful thing my eyes have ever seen.

Seeing him with Camon is much the same. I often hear him from the other room making up silly stories....or bringing comfort when Camon has a melt down from burping. His love for both of them is constant.

He has the quirkiest sense of humor....and never fails to make me laugh.

Is he perfect? No. He isn't. Sometimes he gets road rage. He has been known to steal my pillow at night. He saves containers of food with a tiny bite left in them. At times, he wears outfits that are completely mismatched. We disagree at times...and we can both be stubborn.

He is perfect for me though.

He is the most genuinely good person I have ever met. Never once have I wondered how David feels for me.

He showed me what it is to be loved completely...without bounds or conditions.

So here is to you, my dear, thank you for loving me...on both the stormy days...and the sunny days. Being married to you has helped me to become more of who I want to be. Thank you for loving Adalyn and Camon... they are the luckiest in the world! I'm grateful each day that you are ours. There is no one else I would want to spend my forever with. Now...to count down the hours til you get home from work!!

Oh Camon...your faces kill me! 

This song has always summed up my feelings for you!

Welcoming Your Brother.

Hello my sweet Adalyn,

November was sure a whirlwind my darling. With the year mark of your return to heaven, decorating for the Jubilee, Daddy's heart surgery, and the arrival of your brother....I still feel like I'm slightly spinning.

It's been just two weeks and two days since your brother came into our world.

On the night before your brother was born, I thought so much about how it would be the last night of you as an only child. I thought of how if you were here....I would have made the day special. Reminding you that you were so very loved, and a new sibling wouldn't change that one bit. That it would just bring even more love for all of us.

That night, we were able to deliver the tree we had decorated for you to the family who had bought it, and set it up in their home. It was such a special experience... As I drove home that night, I was in tears....realizing I did get to spend the day with you.

On Novemeber 22nd, at 2:50 in the afternoon....your brother made his big debut! He weighed a big 8 lbs 12 oz! Our doctor and nurses knew all about our experience with you. It felt as if everyone was holding their breath for that first moment he would take his.

They handed your brother to me right away. I couldn't see him hardly for the first ten minutes...due to all the tears in my eyes. You were whisked away before we ever got that moment with you. So being able to be the first to hold him was an absolute wonder to me. My tattered heart overflowed with instant love for him.

Hello Sweet Boy.

When he came out.....they realized that he had a big figure-eight knot it his umbilical cord. Our doctor told us knots like that can often be pretty dangerous...and lead to many other complications or stillbirth. Yet..his knot didn't get pulled tight. I have no doubt that you were his angel... keeping him safe.

We named him Camon Oliver. The name Camon means "from the heart." You taught us that the greatest gifts we can ever give...and the most power we can hold always comes from the heart...so it seemed perfectly fitting for your brother. His middle name, Oliver, means "peace." Something that Daddy and I have desperately needed since you went back to heaven.

He has a stork mark on his nose and forehead....I like to think they came because you gave him two last kisses before he arrived in our arms. 

I have to be honest here Addie baby....bringing your brother home has stirred so many emotions in my heart. Many good...and many hard. Bringing him home simply one day after being born was absolutely wonderful. We simply just sat and gazed at his perfect little features.

Love those sleepy smiles!

Each day...I have shed tears. Having Camon in our home has been such a ray of light. Yet....it has also made me mourn for you in many ways too. I ache to see you with him. As I watch him do things like stretch on the floor...or lift his sweet head...I fill with such awe...and at the same time...sadness that you didn't get to do such simple things. I wish that all you had to worry about was sleeping, burping, pooping and being snuggled. My heart has a renewed ache when I think of all you had to endure. I long for you to be here with us this Christmas season. The holidays feel so foreign without you.

He has the most expressive faces! 

In the midst of those tears.... I have tears of such absolute gratitude...wonder and amazement. How amazing it is to just pick him up and walk into the next room! Without having to pack three separate pieces of equipment. Being able to simply change his clothes without moving tubes and wires....or carry just him in the carseat is amazing. I cried the first time I did his laundry... how beautiful it felt to have tiny little socks and clothes to fold once again.

As I watch your Daddy with Camon....my heart feels like bursting. He was meant to be a "Daddy." Seeing his love for Camon melts my soul just like it did to see his love for you. I sure missed hearing him sing songs and make up stories.

He really is the best Daddy

And, as tiring as the nights may be...I shed tears of gratitude that it gets to be Daddy and I that cares for your brother at night, instead of the hospital staff. I feel so absolutely proud when I watch him root for food...and be able to suck and swallow effortlessly. Everything is so different with him my darling....down to all of the little details like burping and crying. We burped you through your G-tube by opening your little button... and you rarely cried...but when you did...we had to make sure your oxygen didn't drop.

So much hair!! He has the same curly hair as you and your Daddy!

Little Camon has such strong lungs....and such a huge desire to eat everything all the time. I think you whispered to him that eating is one of life's pleasures...and to do it as often as possible!

He has the widest eyes when he is awake. It is like he is trying to soak up everything in his little world. He especially is captivated by your pictures on the wall. He's expressive face gets Daddy and I laughing so often.

Sometimes, I find myself staring into his milk dazed eyes after he eats....as he slowly begins drifting off to sleep....with a little milk drool coming out of his mouth....And I wonder if, in heaven, we will get to spend years and years reliving certain moments. I would spend my years in simple moments like that, of sleepy-eyed, milk drool Camon. There are so many moments I would relive with you. And in just two weeks, there are countless I would spend with your brother.

All of that hair!

As I star at him in the late nights, I find myself wondering if you miss him. I am sure you do. I'm certain you stay close and I'm sure it is different with him here...but I feel you are so excited for him to experience this life.

Sometimes, as I feed him, I tell him pieces of life advice. Sometimes silly. Sometimes serious. This morning, I told him a few things. I told him to always search for you...to find you in the beautiful things of this world and that you would always be his guide.. I told him to always wear his seat belt..and to let me give him tight hugs. I told him to always save a little room for ice cream. To always be kind, no matter the person. I told him it's okay to cry. And that some days are best spent in pj's with hot chocolate and good movies. I told him to pray....even in the times he doesn't want to...during the times he might be mad at God. 

Some moments....I feel so crippled by my fears. Fears of what "could" happen. Fears of what "has" happened. I feel afraid of so many things sweet girl. Especially since it is cold season....I feel like carrying lysol with me everywhere...and hibernating for the winter to keep the germs and sniffles at bay.

Waking up is hard. 

Oh Adalyn....I am so eternally grateful for your brother...and yet...I miss you so fiercely. I want you to know I'm trying my hardest to be the mom your brother deserves. I'm trying to let my heart love again. I keep thinking of the a line from the song Lullaby by Eclipse "Heaven's been kind to bless me with you...and trust me with your keep."

That line is perfect for how I feel for the two of you.

So Addie baby...even though I feel rather tired these days, I forget to put deodorant on some days...and sometimes I smell like a mixture of sour milk and baby poop... I feel so blessed that I get to be a mommy to both of you. As imperfect as I am.

I imagine heaven is absolutely beautiful this time of year. I hope you got to help decorate a big Christmas tree! I also hope you like your sweet tree...people have given us such sweet ornaments for you. It has been a gift for my heart to see them.

I hope you will continue to stay extra close this Christmas season my darling! I will look for you in all I see....but especially in the wide, captivating eyes of your little brother. I sure wish I could know all of the things he does!

 I love you always and completely!


XOXO

Mommy

365.

That's how many days we've been without you my darling. You were called back to heaven early on a Friday morning. I honestly never thought we would survive a whole year without you. I felt our hearts would stop...or somehow the world would end...that there would be no way time could continue without you. 

Absolutely every part of my soul yearns for you. I ache to feel the touch of your sweet, soft fingers. I ache to smell you..to feel you in my arms...to simply run my fingers through your hair. I ache to shower you with love.

You've continued to teach me so much in these days without you here physically.

Even as angels were calling you home, you're heart was the strongest I have ever seen. Holding you as you slipped back into heaven was so sacred....yet completely devastated and shattered my heart. I wasn't ready to let go. Even now...I'm still not.

Thank you for making me a mommy. Thank you for being a light in countless lives. Your purpose was and is far greater then we could ever fathom.  Thank you for making me better. Thank you for showing with your entire life that miracles are real. You are pure goodness, Adalyn Grace....A soul that bright and loving is a testament to me that God is real. That He is merciful, present and loving.

Thank you for giving your beautiful heart to Daddy and I. Your love is the most beautiful thing I have ever held. 

This was the last picture I ever took of you....in the early hours of the morning before you slipped back into heaven. Oh baby girl....you gave us so much love. 

I'm at a loss of words today my darling, so...here are two songs. The first is is the words to "Homeward Bound," a song we we sang so frequently to you. Little did we realize how fitting the words would become for your life. The second is your song, Addie baby....and encompasses so much of our feelings for you.

In the quiet misty morning

When the moon has gone to bed, 

When the sparrows stop their singing

And the sky is clear and red, 

When the summer's ceased its gleaming 

When the corn is past its prime, 

When adventure's lost its meaning -

 I'll be homeward bound in time 

Bind me not to the pasture 

Chain me not to the plow 

Set me free to find my calling

 And I'll return to you somehow

If you find it's me you're missing

If you're hoping I'll return, 

To your thoughts I'll soon be listening,

And in the road I'll stop and turn

Then the wind will set me racing

 As my journey nears its end

 And the path I'll be retracing 

When I'm homeward bound again

Bind me not to the pasture 

Chain me not to the plow 

Set me free to find my calling 

And I'll return to you somehow 

I look forward to the day we get to come home to you too. The day you return to our arms once again. I hope you know how deeply you are loved by Daddy and I . You are written on every single part of our hearts.

We miss you so much baby girl!

Stay ever close, 

XO

Mommy

Coming Home.

During our stay in the PICU...we realized soon that Adalyn wasn't going to get better. I still wasn't ready to accept that though. Countless times I prayed....Telling God exactly what I wanted. Exactly what we need. Begging....bargaining.... and pleading for things to be different. For results to come back better...

Yet over and over....David and I got the same answer.  It was time for us to let our brave, perfect little girl go home. 

Making the decision to remove Adalyn's breathing tube was the absolute hardest of my life. To know that we would only have a short time left would instantly throw me into a panic. Even today, I struggle to think of that.

After removing the tube, Adalyn never again had a seizure. It was our miracle. Her entire countenance radiated wisdom...comfort...and peace. She was tired, yet her eyes were so calm. She even "talked" in those days after removing her tube.

First time holding her after the tube was removed...best feeling! 

We had a big meeting, with absolutely everyone involved in her care. Best case scenario, with each treatment option we could try....it would maybe buy us another month. As much as we wanted to keep her with us, we couldn't put her through what we knew was only a chance at more time.

Some of the physical angels we were surrounded by helped arrange for us to be flown home.

November 10th, we finally came back home. 

There are no words to describe how I felt leaving some of our family...both mine and David's sister...knowing that would be the last time they got to shower her in kisses.

Her life-flight nurses dressed her perfectly. She looked so cozy and beautiful. My eyes could hardly leave her perfect face the entire flight home. Almost as if my heart was trying to etch each and every detail of her into my memory. 

As soon as we were settled in that night... it was clear how much Adalyn had wanted to be home too.

That night was the last perfectly calm night we would have. I won't go into detail, because it's too close to my heart.... But that night was one of the most sacred of my life. The capacity of love that filled that room was beyond anything I had ever felt. I know angels were present....and the prayers from so many were comforting us...

The days that followed...we spent every single second next to our sweet girl.

As I have reflected on that day... so many thoughts have come to mind. I wanted to hope that this November would, in some ways this year, be much more calm...and give my heart a chance to find the pieces of itself again.

Oh how I miss this..

Yet, this past weekend has once more set David and I into a tailspin. 

On Saturday, David's defibrillator (much like a pacemaker) started beeping every few hours. Most people might not know the feeling of their body randomly making beeping noises...or sounding like an English ambulance...but David sure does. We wanted to hope it was just his device malfunctioning and sending off a false alarm.

As it would turn out...one of the leads going from the device into his heart has shattered. Meaning, David needs immediate surgery to replace it. 

When we heard the news....I wanted to say, "You're kidding me, right?" How is it possible to so frequently have such horrible timing... When we found out we were pregnant earlier this year...one of my fears was something going wrong with David around the same time we were having a baby again. I told myself I was being irrational....and shell shocked from the past year. Yet here we are.

The complicated part is that David already has too many excess wires in his heart from old leads. They generally don't remove old leads because of the risk it poses. However....they can't fit a new lead in...unless they remove an old lead.

The risk with removing a lead is that it can puncture a hole in the heart wall. Having a hole in your heart is not a good thing... 

The lead they need to replace is one David rarely needs....but essentially...it is his life saving lead. If anything goes wrong, like heart going way too fast, it's the lead that delivers a shock to his heart to get him back into a normal rhythm. Imagine the paddles you see in medical shows....that's what his device does.

In the mean time...David gets to wear this fashionable "Life Vest" It monitors his heart....and can deliver a shock if needed. 

You can tell he really loves it. 

So, this week, on the 17th...David goes in for surgery.. Not because his heart itself is having problems..His heart is doing great. It is just the device/leads inside. His doctor set us up with one of the best lead extraction surgeons in the nation. If all goes well, the surgery will be several hours...and we'll get to come home after a couple days. Worst case scenario... if a hole is punctured, they do emergency open heart to fix the hole.

And....our little boy is set to arrive on the 27th. 

Needless to say....there have been many tears shed in the Brown house these past few days. It's hard to not understand. Hard to feel like the rain clouds are so constant.

I have no doubt Adalyn gets so much of her amazing courage and strength from her brave Daddy. They are the two most incredible souls I have ever known.  I feel beyond lucky I get to call them mine....but feeling so helpless to fixing things is debilitating at times.

I wish I could say I have some sort of insight... All I know for sure....is that some days are hard. Really hard. 

Some months are hard. Really hard. 

So....this week...I find myself begging, bargaining... and pleading once more. Mostly just trying to remind myself to trust in Someone greater. We are praying that all goes so smoothly with David's surgery. Praying that we feel Adalyn so very close. And praying that our growing little boy stays inside for as long as possible.

"She's Sick.."

November 4, 2015

I had gone to bed at 5am that morning. Adalyn couldn't sleep more then 45 minute stretches by this point. So one of us was always with her.

That night she had been so calm, even through her seizures. Her breathing, for her, seemed normal. Her saturations were good. Some moments now, I try to filter through that entire night, thinking maybe somehow I missed something... That somehow... I should have been able to change the course of events...

Around 9am, David's hand touched my shoulder. He whispered, "Amanda, I think she's sick. She has a fever. Her breathing is labored."

Those words still ring in my head at times. 

My eyes popped right open. Mentally putting on my fighting gear. At that moment, it didn't even cross my mind that later that day we would be life-flighted to Primary Children's. In my mind, I thought we would get through this like every other sickness she had.

We gave her tylenol....and she calmed down.

By 12pm...we were in her pediatrician's office. When you have a special needs child, there is never a delay when you say you need to come in. Her pediatrician was amazing, and right away sent us for a Chest X-Ray.

What I remember most about that day is how brave our sweet girl was. She wasn't fussy. She didn't cry. In fact, she was so incredibly calm.

Within 15 minutes, we had the results. You would think by then, I would have known it wasn't good news. Her doctor told us we needed to get over to the hospital immediately. Her lungs were completely whited out..... Meaning....there was almost no room for oxygen to move in and out. Breathing is sort of a non-negotiable.

Even at this point, both David and I were oblivious to how seriously sick she was. This is odd...because we both have a medical background. We know how serious it is to have those type of results.... I guess in those moments...we were just prepared to fight whatever it was we were facing. Whatever we were up against, we were going to win the battle. 

In my mind, this would just be another quick hospital stay...we would get her all better....and be back home before the end of the week.

By 3pm...we were at the hospital. We didn't even have to check in...they had been notified we were coming. And right away took us to a room. We laid her on the hospital bed....and before we knew it...our world started spinning. 

*Here is a few things you need to know. St. George, as wonderful as it is....is not equipped to handle pediatrics in a critical situation. They aren't set up for Pediatric Intensive Care Unit....We hope someday, they will be. Even so....we are forever grateful for what they did for our girl.

For the next 2 hours....they attempted to get an IV in...and failed over and over. They needed blood cultures, and to start medicine. She was poked more times then I can count. David and I held her perfect little fingers. Whispering over and over that she was the bravest girl we knew. Even through all that..... She didn't cry.  She would squeeze our fingers and cringe with each poke. We stood close by. Rubbing her sweet arms and legs.

At this point. I started panicking. More and more people were flooding into the room. Her blood results came back and showed her CO2 levels way over double what they should be. Meaning, her body was becoming dangerously toxic.

Life flight was dispatched...but would take over an hour to arrive.

They attempted a CPAP machine, but didn't have the right size for her. With her numbers continually increasing, they had to get her intubated. Immediately....

David and I moved to the foot of her bed...and watched them attempt 3 separate times to get the breathing tube in. Failing each time. Her oxygen would drop close to 0.....and they would need to bag her back to breathing once more. Something that still creeps into my nightmares.

It was then my heart began to feel like glass. And the blows it was sustaining....were shattering. 

By nothing short of a miracle...Adalyn didn't seize that entire time. Almost as if....amid the all the chaos...Angels were carrying her. 

I stepped outside her room and couldn't fully breathe. Her room had over 20 people attending to her. Carts were surrounding the room...drawers haphazardly pulled out...

By 8pm...Life Flight finally arrived. They had got her stable by this point...and hooked up to the ventilator. They loaded her up into the ambulance...and off to the airport we went.

By 9pm....we were wheels up in the air. The dark of the night seemed to match my fear of what was to come. David and I could hardly exchanged words...mostly just utterly panicked looks. Tight hand squeezes. And tear filled eyes.

I stared at Adalyn that entire flight. Somehow trying to will myself to wake up.

By 11pm...we were taken to the PICU at Primary Children's. Once more, a team was already waiting for us. Right as we got there, David and I were pulled aside by two doctors. They told us because of her history...there were no guarantees she would make it through the night. No guarantee that she could recover from this...

I wanted to throw up.. I couldn't even find the words to respond. It felt like there was no air to breathe in the room. I was waiting for someone to say the words "Just kidding, false alarm!"

But those words were never said.

After midnight, Adalyn was all set up in her room. All was calm. She was sedated pretty heavily...and for once...able to sleep somewhat peacefully. David went to try to sleep for an hour in the parent sleep rooms..

I sat next to her bed....watching the mechanical rise and fall of her chest on the vent. Soaking the side of her bed with my hot tears. I laid my head next to hers and held her hand. I kept telling her I wasn't ready for this. I wanted her to know how much I needed her. How much we still needed time....

The next morning, her neurologist came to see us. Right as she walked in, she wrapped me in a hug...and once again...I sobbed. Again...we had to begin discussing what this all meant....This event didn't necessarily happen because of a sickness alone. Her seizures caused her to aspirate.. until the point that her lungs collapsed. Which was why it was onset so suddenly.  They could get her lungs cleared....but for some reason...her lungs were not in great shape to begin with. They were too stiff. And not exchanging oxygen well. Neurologically...even not taking into account her seizures...it would be uncertain if her body could return from this. Add her progressive, unstoppable seizures...and the outlook continued to darken..

At this point...her seizures had returned. Sedation...and 3 separate rescue medicines weren't even stopping them completely.

We would be there for the next 6 days... though honestly...in felt like one giant....long...horrific day. 

David and I would take turns every so often, sleeping for 1-2 hours. Yet without fail...we would have nightmares the moment we fell asleep. Nightmares of losing our Adalyn...

Waking up did nothing to remove those nightmares. 

It's odd the things the mind remembers... I remember frequently people commenting the fact I was wearing sandals with it being winter. We lived in St. George....and a life-flight trip wasn't exactly a planned part of our day. I remember the hum of her machines. I remember the smell of the  bed we had to sleep on. I remember the yellow subway tile in the parent showers. I remember how quickly it seemed that our "troops" assembled. Our incredible family dropped everything  at a moments notice to support us. Our friends were amazing... We were flooded with messages of comfort and prayers. Even people we hardly knew dropped off baskets of snacks and packages.

For the rest of my life, I will never forget that...I will never forget how it felt to be on the receiving end of the goodness of so many. 

I remember sitting in the bathroom, pleading with God to let me wake up.... to let this just be a dream. Pleading with Him for more time. I needed years and years more to love on her. 

I remember aching to hold her. Wanting to wrap her in my arms and pretend the world around us didn't exsist. Instead..having to settle for just rubbing her head, arms and legs...holding her sweet fingers.

I remember them telling us....that absolute best case scenario...we would have up to 3 weeks. 

I remember the moments Adalyn would wake up....look at us...and instantly wash us both over with the calmest of feelings. How was it possible that a girl so small....so fragile...could be the one to remind us to have courage? To remind us of her love with such simple hand squeezes? How could it be that she was the one to hold our hearts together, when our world felt like crumbling?

Honestly.... I have never been more afraid in my life than I was those days. In fact....a year later...I'm still scared of those days.  I still feel like I can't fully breathe when I think of them.

In reflecting of that day....I feel so overwhelmingly proud of Adalyn. She was the calm in the middle of the hurricane. I feel so humbled and grateful that I get to be her mom....so grateful for all the things her beautiful, perfect, soul teaches me. I'm beyond convinced she is among the bravest and most graceful souls to ever live. Her middle name Grace couldn't be more fitting for her. She fought the hardest of battles...yet did so with so much grace.

I couldn't prepare for what was to come. Neither of us could. Yet....somehow...in the middle of our deepest darkness...Her light remained constant. Her goodness remained so pure. Her love...remained so full.

Even today, that hasn't changed one bit. 

Just Be Held.

For most of this year, I have worked to push the thoughts and events of last November to the back of my mind.

I thought time would stop....or freeze....and that certainly there was no way November would come again. (I'm not always the most rational). Yet here it is. And my heart....my heart is full to the brim of emotions. Almost to the point that some days, it simply hurts to feel.

There were so many days last November that shook my world to the core. Especially the first two weeks. I know it's time for me to face those feelings. And as always...I do that best through writing.

November 2, 2015:

Adalyn turned 6 months. "Monthies," as I referred to them, were a big deal for us. Each passing month was a tender mercy. We clung to the gift of time. David's amazing mom had the idea of having a small party for her. A "Half-Birthday" party. We thought it was brilliant.

She even baked the most perfect half-birthday cake. 

I loved it.

That day....Adalyn had some stretches of awake time. Which was incredible for her. We adored just getting to spend time with her. Nothing more was needed. Her seizures had progressed so severely by that point. Even now, there is nothing I hate more than seizures. They took so much from her...especially as they became more life threatening...and we were helpless to stopping them.

Her simple party was perfect. She slept through the whole thing! We sang her "Happy Half-Birthday" and ate her cake.

Little did we know....this would be one of the last days before everything would take a spiraling turn for the worst. How could we ever process that we would only have 11 more days with our beautiful girl?

I think of that now....and I was to run back in time and shout at myself to hold to every. single. second. To memorize the sounds...smells..feel of each moment. As if doing so would stop that day from coming.

How is it that we are here now....a year later...coming up on that heart-wrenching year mark? And in the same month....welcoming a new baby? 

As I was driving a few days ago....I turned on the Christian radio. I don't remember the song...or even the tune...but shortly after turning it on I heard the words "Stop holding on, and just be held"

That has rang in my head ever since. As I think of our lives...this month....my feelings...and all that is to come....I feel like I'm scrambling to hold on to everything. Thinking that somehow, if I can hold on to everything....I can control it. As if I can stop anything bad from happening.

Yet the more I try to hold on to everything....the more my feelings seem to spiral away from me. It's as if I'm trying with all my might to pick up the pieces of my fragile heart...to hold them close. The more I try, the more the pieces keep dropping out of my hands.

Thinking of that simple line has made me realize that I just want to be held. To be held in the love of our sweet Adalyn. Held in the constant love of my husband. Held in the tender comfort of our growing little boy... 

Held in the hands of God....who will never drop or lose those fragile pieces of my heart. 

So that is what I will try to do as we reflect on these days. I will try to just be held. Knowing that even in the hardest of moments, love was our constant. We were never left alone.

Happy 18 months Addie baby! To say I miss you is the most drastic understatement.
Stay extra close my darling. I'll be looking for you. 

XO

Mom


Here are some picture highlights of the end of October last year:

So perfect!

Also....thought I would share my ever-growing self!