On...

As we get closer to this day... the day that Simon is to be discharged from the hospital... this is a thought that keeps running through my mind: what if I'm not enough? What if I am not enough to help the boy I love so much... my first baby? What if all the love I have to give doesn't make him happy, or healthy, or safe? What if everything I've done up until now has been wrong? What if I will never be able to make the world better, or safer for him? These thoughts are self-defeating. And, these thoughts are real. I cannot pretend that I don't have them. I would imagine that all parents must feel this at some point, for some reason. It seems a shame that we do not always seek to support one another during these times of doubt, but perhaps we have to admit we have these feelings in order to receive that type of support. So, here I am admitting these thoughts - these doubts so prominent in my mind. And please know, I am so grateful for all the support we...

Words have power: the power to hurt and the power to heal.  I actively choose to omit (most of the time, and even when it is really hard) the words that will do damage, those that have no purpose other than to make myself temporarily feel better. I know those words will not serve me well - they will not move me forward along on this path that is my life.  Instead, I actively choose to use words that show love and understanding, kindness and respect; words that show my gratitude. I want to use my words and my actions to help others in their time of need, even when I do not know the exact words to say.  Now, I want to use my words to thank each of you that have reached out in some way.  You may not have words that will make all of my sadness and fear go away. You may not have words to fix this challenging time I find myself and my family in. Yet, you chose to speak anyway.  Please know, your words are healing. Your words of kindness, compassi...

This is hard. I mean really really hard. I am not generally afraid to do hard things. In fact, I've done a lot of really hard things, Hard makes me stronger. Hard builds my character. Hard allows me to understand others. So hard, isn't something that bothers me - at least when it's something hard for myself. It's a different story when the hard thing has to do with my child.  I am not totally sure why I am writing about this. Maybe it is partially because I currently cannot think of anything else and maybe, if I write it down, it will free my brain and give it some release. Or, perhaps it is a little bit because I know I can't be the only parent who has ever dealt with this, and so my sharing might help someone else.  The stigma of mental illness looms heavily. I find it absurd that we, as a culture, can completely accept someone having a physical illness, yet cannot fathom accepting the illnesses we cannot see. So many individuals suffering from mental il...