In A Stroke of Love

Desert Living, Encouragement, In A Stroke of Love, Special Needs

Two Years

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It has been 2 years since I left you in that new room, new home, with strangers…

I had fought for you to be there; I had cried and had bouts of anger as I fought for this place.

I left your dad and your brothers for you to live away from me, I lived in the desert in an RV for you.

You wanted to move to the desert; you wanted to be independent.

I was exhausted from your care, and my head was done with caregiving, but what about my heart?

My heart was torn –  it was split – if I move you away from me does that mean I don’t care?

I was so done taking care of your diabetes, I was tired of the schedule, the responsibility.

But you are my firstborn, I fought for you for 25 years.

Guilt, guilt, guilt.

It loomed large over me, but I HAD to let you go. I had to get a break; I had to find myself again.

You needed someone else to push you, care for you and provide for your needs.

As I reflect on two years… I see growth in you; I see more independence for you.

I see growth in me, I see hope in me, I see healing in me.

The journey with you, my son, has been beautiful and oh so hard. I would do it again. I have learned so much from you.

I still feel that guilt, oh so small… but I know God has been with us both in these last 2 years.

 You are my firstborn, my son, my hope, and because of you and our journey, I can share hope and healing with others.

I love you Bryson.

Encouragement, Family, Health, In A Stroke of Love, Special Needs

Mama Knows

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That Thursday morning in September started like any other—until it didn’t. I went to wake up Bryson, my 7-year-old, for school, and right away, something felt off. He wasn’t his usual self, and though his vocabulary was still limited, he didn’t need words to show it. He slowly climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom, and when he returned, he suddenly threw up on his bedroom floor. Bryson rarely got sick like this; in fact, vomiting wasn’t something he’d ever really dealt with. The boy had endured so much in his short life, but this was new.

As the day wore on, he stayed curled up on the couch, refusing to eat or drink. I watched him growing weaker, knowing deep down that something wasn’t right but hoping it might be just a passing flu bug. When the night came, he still hadn’t improved, and I lay on the couch beside him, listening to his shallow breathing. Early Friday morning, I gently encouraged him to try and get up to go to the bathroom, but he refused. I knew then it was time to act.

With my mom’s help to watch my other boys, I called the doctor and was told to bring him in immediately. We managed to get Bryson into the car and headed straight to the doctor. I don’t remember much about the appointment itself, but one exchange has stayed with me. As I was listing Bryson’s symptoms, the doctor said, “I don’t think it’s appendicitis; he’s not in enough pain.” I was taken aback. We’d always known Bryson had a high pain threshold, which was both a blessing and a curse, but in that moment, I realized how much he must be suffering without being able to express it.

When the doctor suggested we wait, I knew I couldn’t just sit by and watch. I insisted we do further testing. After some reluctance, the doctor finally agreed to an X-ray. And sure enough, as soon as the images were reviewed, everything changed. They rushed Bryson to be admitted, and he was prepped for surgery. His appendix was on the verge of bursting.

That night, Bryson underwent emergency surgery. I can’t help but think of the “what ifs.” What if I hadn’t pushed for that extra test? What if I’d simply accepted the doctor’s initial assessment? It was a stark reminder of something I’d believed all along but had been cemented through this experience: as mothers, we know. We carry an intuition that goes beyond words or reason—a deep, fierce knowing that demands we listen, no matter what anyone else says.

To all the moms out there, especially the new ones: trust your instincts. Don’t be afraid to push for answers, to ask, to advocate. We carried our babies within us for nine months, feeling every heartbeat and kick. And Mama, you know.

Books, Encouragement, Family, In A Stroke of Love, Memoir, Special Needs, Stress and Anxiety, Uncategorized

The Unboxing Moment

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It just happened friends, my author copies of my book In a Stroke of Love arrived at my house this afternoon. It has left me with little words and big emotions.

To hold it in my hands is an insane feeling. I have been reading books since I was young and to see my name and flip through the pages and see my words, is a feeling I can’t describe.

I want to give a shout out to Justin from Advent Design LLC for updating my website. Also, to Jessi from J. Marie Photography for the photos for my social media accounts.

Thanks for subscribing, I know some of you do not have social media and I will be sending updates through email as often as I can. You can find me on Facebook and Instagram if you have social media.

If you haven’t already, preorder my book, the link is on my site. Also, I invite you to join my launch team. The link is also on my website. To get my book into more hands, I need you, my subscribers, to purchase and share the word.

Thanks for all of your support during my time in the desert moving Bryson and during the writing process. I believe the best is yet to come. My biggest thanks is to my Heavenly Father, only through Him this book is in my hands today.