what goes up, must come back down.

i got hit hard today. a ton of bricks just came barreling at me, out of nowhere.

life has been, well…life, for us the past few weeks.

highs and lows.

both the kids were sick multiple times, and we had a death in our family.

but we were also gifted, for my birthday, a beautiful vacation to florida to visit my family. it was just what the four of us needed. plus, i have also been blesssed to now be on a recurring show airing saturday mornings on qvc2! hoorays!

the good is what keeps us going and i hope that for you, the reader, that is true, as well.

but today i was hit. never saw it coming.

i was leafing through our mail, anticipating my paycheck, but instead seeing two bills (yuck) a missing child ad, a beautiful handwritten card with a sweet gift from another CF momma and something from our CF center with the children’s hospital logo in the return address label. the logo is in multiple crayon colors, written in a child’s handwriting, appearing fun and carefree…but the irony is, coming from a children’s hospital, there is nothing fun and carefree with that.

to the parents of baby girl f.

i figured it had something to do with insurance and would’ve normally cast it aside for C to follow up on, but I opened it to make sure it wasn’t anything pressing.

here, it was an application to be a part of a fantastic organization that takes care of chronically ill children and their siblings. pajamas sent during long hospital stays, tickets to sporting events, care packages and such. one of the quotes saying,  “while there’s not a cure for the illness your child has, we like to find ways to bring joy to her while she undergoes the treatments and sicknesses…”

my initial reaction was how sweet this is!

our social worker even filled out some of the application for us:

in the space for the question: “is your child’s illness critical and/or life threatening?” the box was checked:



those bricks…those darn bricks came down on me. some even sideways because i felt it in my gut.

i began to cry. then sob. it won’t stop.

why now? why this surge of emotions today? i thought i went through this after her diagnosis?

this is all the while M is playing so sweetly on the floor with her brother’s paw patrol.

she’s next to me now.

“you ok, mommy? you so sad, mommy. oh no, sad.”

i hug her. she pats me on my back. i tell her how much her mommy loves her.

“i yuv you too, mommy”

then i text my husband, “please call me, i’m having a hard time”

two seconds later, he’s on the phone. through my cries, i explain to him what happened and in his comforting words back to me, i hear he is crying, too.

but we talked about how every day, we have to put this truth out of our minds in order to be able to have the best possible attitude for M — just a little defense against the harsh reality that is unavoidable at times like this.

i’m not really sure how to end this post. i do my best to end on a positive note. or have some sort of wise, “on the bright side” phrase…i don’t have that today. and i’m telling myself, that’s ok. i’m letting myself feel this fear and then i pray tomorrow will bring me some clarity.

some hope.


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