"I'm Going to Miss Her Smile"

As I was sitting here getting ready to type up a post last night about the things I was grateful for, my way of starting the month off on a positive, I received a phone call from my daughter’s school. It was a Monday evening, and of course, I thought it was just a recording. I almost didn’t answer it. However, when I did pick up the phone it wasn’t a recording. It was the principal who was calling to inform all of the parents in my daughter’s class that a classmate had died over the weekend. And briefly, everything stopped. 

“Oh, no.” - “Can you tell me who it was? Do you know if she was a friend of my daughter’s? What can we do?” All of these words stumbled out of my mouth. But due to privacy reasons, they weren’t allowed to say much. Just that the students would be informed in the morning, and that they would have grief counselors available in case they wanted to speak to someone. “Th-thank you. Thank you for letting me know.” I let out before hanging up the phone. I closed the laptop, and quietly stood just outside of Em’s room. I could hear her working on her science kit with the TV on and moving around on her bed. “She’s going to be okay,” I mentally told myself. And instead of returning to my blog draft I just spent the rest of our evening keeping myself busy. Distracted. 

Sadly, this is not the first tragedy in our town involving a child. However, this is the first tragedy involving a young child that my daughter personally knew. A little girl that my daughter sat next to and interacted with on a daily basis. Since I didn’t know who the child was I didn’t know exactly how this would affect her. Was it her newly minted BFF of homeroom? Was it a child in another POD that she didn’t really speak to but had to do labs with? Was it someone she played with during recess or had exchanged “back to school” bracelets with on the first day of school? There were so many unanswered questions that I honestly wasn’t sure what to tell her. So, I didn’t. Instead, I let her have an uninterrupted evening of science kits, Raising Hope, a great big bowl of her favorite fruit, and then let her make a “later night” run to the Dollar Store with her dad to grab some craft supplies on a school night. She came back with her "loot" all smiles and giggles. Sleepily she informed me that she was ready for bed; for school the next day. And so, I tucked her in. I watched her fall asleep; her chest rising up slowly. 

Then this morning, I became THAT mom. The one who asked to speak with the counselor and teachers before classes started. I asked questions about how this matter would be addressed and whether parents were allowed to be with their children when they were given the news. We weren’t. I let them know that I wasn’t concerned about knowing names or details. I just wanted to make sure that I could be there for my little girl in case she struggled with the news. I wanted her to hear from me, that she could cry or not. That she could feel sad, shocked, or neither. That she could ask for comfort and to speak with any of the grief counselors that were available to her about whatever she needed to get off of her chest. Or, if none of that applied to her, that it was perfectly okay too. “That is absolutely wonderful, and yes we can definitely send her in when we are done giving the news to the children,” the principal told me as I sat down in the office. A second teacher came over and gently squeezed my arm, “I’m so glad that you’re here for Emery.” 

About ten minutes later the children all walked out into the hall. Some seemed okay while others were sobbing. Teachers were crying and some kids were hugging each other. As I watched through the glass window that separated the main office from the school I swallowed the lump in my throat. When I stood up, in walked Emery, and she immediately came in for a hug. She let me know who it was, and she sat in my lap quietly. This little girl was a fairly new friend she told me. Someone, she was just barely getting to know. A little girl that she played with because another friend had introduced them, inviting her into their little circle on the second day of school. We talked for a few minutes and I told her that however she was feeling was okay. I told her exactly what I had told the teacher earlier. As she clung to me I gave her a hug and a kiss on the top of her head. I asked her if she felt okay, and she nodded her head. With one last hug, we walked out of the room, and she was led back to her class. Looking back and blowing kisses before rounding the corner.  

It wasn’t until later that morning when she finally cried, she told me on our car ride home. “Mom, I still can’t believe that she’s gone. I’m really going to miss her smile. And her laugh. But mostly her smile in the mornings. Momma, I’m really going to miss her.” And I told her to hold onto those memories. I told her to remember all of the good that her new friend had already brought into her life in such a short time. To remember that smile and think happy thoughts when she was feeling sad. "It's okay to feel sad," I said. "We just need to say a little prayer for her, and for her family, my love. And just remember that someday, you'll get to see her again... " --   

September 11th

I can still remember walking into my second period, eighth grade, Science class. There were already other students sitting inside watching the small television in the corner. I remember thinking it was weird that the TV was on as I headed to my desk. When I put my books away I looked up, and saw the towers with smoke billowing out. A replay of the first plane hitting the North Tower on the split screen. I sat down as the room got quiet. Then we saw the second plane. And that’s when everything grew still. We all sat there just listening. Was this real? What was going on? Was it an accident? How could this happen? Was it planned? The class bells would ring and we’d shift to a different room, but that day we did nothing else besides watch the events unfold on TV.

I remember seeing everything. The people clinging to windows. People waving for help. The people jumping, and the “POP” sound as they hit the pavement. People screaming. The pentagon getting hit. Clouds of smoke. Everyone running. The towers going down. And then, news of the fourth plane going down in a field. It didn't seem real to me. Everyone was quiet. Our school was on a “semi-lock-down” with parents being given the opportunity to come get their kids if they wanted. However, everyone was on alert because there were reports of nuclear plants being possible targets. For a lot of our parents, leaving us kids at school was considered to be the safest thing to do. Since we lived within a certain mileage of one we were kept inside for the whole school day, and all after school activities were cancelled.

That was the day that I learned what terrorists were. That was the day that the innocent bubble I lived in burst. And that was the day that I knew WAR would be something more than just a word I’d read in books. The rest of that night, and the days that followed were somber ones. I cried when I got home. Because even though these people were so far away, and people we’d never know in person...they were still Americans. They were family. Human beings. People who did not deserve this. And I got angry. WE got angry. We watched as search and rescue teams dug through the rubble, and metal. We saw the pictures of the missing posted across boards near hospitals, police departments, and fire departments. And we watched, day after day, as the death toll climbed.

I have journals from that year stored away somewhere at our old house. I wrote down how I felt that day, and even some from the day that George W. Bush declared war. I remember all of the coverage of the bombings, and night air raids. I remember the first footage we got to see of our soldiers putting boots on the ground in a foreign country. I remember wanting to donate blood, but not being able to because of my age. I remember my dad, who is originally from Mexico, wanting to join the military to go fight for this country; HIS country. But most importantly, I remember how united we all became. Our flags were displayed proudly, enlistment surged, donations soared, we checked on our neighbors, and volunteers from all over the country headed to New York to help in whatever way was needed. There was this overall feeling of comfort, and compassion during those days because we were all coming together as a nation. Looking back, I feel like we need to be reminded of that from time to time these days. Of coming together, helping, and listening. I'm proud of how we Americans reacted to such a tragedy that day, and the months that followed. Seventeen years later, and I'm still so damn proud of how we all stood together. 

Today, I remember. 

Sutherland Springs, Texas

I normally don't talk about certain issues going on in the world today, my faith, or even address politics on this blog. It's not that I'm ashamed, or don't pay attention either. I just feel that we're all different, and we all have different views. Sometimes our stances maybe exactly the same, or just a bit similar. While other times they are the complete opposite. And that's okay! I'm good with all of the differences out there. Besides, what could I possibly say that you haven't heard already from someone else in regards to these subjects, huh? However, I felt like I needed to express something today that may touch a little on some of these things.  

As you all know by now, Sunday was a sad day here in Texas. Three hours away from my own little town, while some where at their normal Sunday service and others were enjoying the extra hour of sleep, a coward walked into a church with an assault rifle. Twenty-six people didn't make it home that afternoon. About half of those were children. Now, the survivors and those who have to deal with the aftermath personally, have a long road to recovery ahead of them. Long after the media attention dies down. And long after they lay their loved ones to rest. Sadly, this community will never be the same again. Having grown up in a tiny little town, much like Sutherland, my heart breaks for these people. For their community. 

Now, I've seen some of the media be respectful of those who lost loved ones, or survived this incident. I'm grateful for them, truly. But I've also seen media outlets as well as people in general mock the response some of us have in regards to such tragedies. "See! Prayer does nothing! GOD DIDN'T SAVE THESE PEOPLE!" or "Sacrificed to the Second Amendment" with the pictures of the victims alongside it. Comments of how "Texans were just asking for it" due to our states stance on guns. It's remarks like those that make me mad. Angry. And yet really sad. Sad that this just happened, only two days ago, and everyone wants to turn it into a damn gun control debate. They want to use the deaths as reasons to prove their side; their cause. And I get that these topics are "hot button". I get that there need to be conversations over these issues. And I get that they are important to each person, in different ways. BUT, y'all...babies died. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and friends. They died, on what they believed would be a normal Sunday morning. While they prayed, and worshipped.

So maybe take a moment to think about that instead? To feel heartbroken for their loss. To go home, and hug your loved ones as tightly as possible. To be empathetic, and not make this about politics or healthcare for just a few moments. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do about any of this. I can't make the smearing of the victims' beliefs stop, or force others to be respectful. We all have our choices. We're all different. Our reactions will all vary. So, instead I've said my prayers. Whether people think that's an inappropriate response, or not I honestly don't care. I've asked for understanding, comfort, and peace on the behalf of those families. And my heart goes out to that tiny little town.

We are with you.

Texas, forever. ❤

#RedBalloonsforRyan

Today, as I checked my instagram feed I saw that several people within the blogging community were sharing these pictures of a beautiful, fiery red-haired, little boy. A smile that I could just hear the giggles coming from even though I had never actually heard them before in my life graced my dashboard. In fact, up until this morning I had never seen him, or read his mother’s blog. However, all of these posts were asking for support. For prayer and words of encouragement as these two parents grieved for the loss of their precious baby boy. They asked the readers and followers to wear red, to release red balloons, or just share words of comfort for the family. So I will, and now I pass this on to you. 

To read more about this story please visit Alissa Circle's blog, Diary of an Addict. If you would like to help the Saldana family by making a donation you can go here, or through this blog directly. To make a purchase in Ryan's honor, with proceeds going to the family, you can go here, or find a list of other stores here. Alissa has asked that any words of support & prayer spread through social media be tagged #RedBalloonsforRyan.  

I cannot imagine the pain this family is going through. This story breaks my heart, and I couldn't possibly put into eloquent enough words the pain I feel for them. Instead, I'll just put them in my prayers tonight. I'll wear red tomorrow, and I'll do something to pay it forward in honor of Ryan, the wonderful little light, gone far too soon.  


p.s. The photos of the family were taken from Jacqui's instagram (Ryan's mom). You can click the pictures for the source. The #redballoonsforryan banner was taken from a repost on instagram, so I am not sure who originally created it. 

And It Hurts

I have a bad taste in my mouth. I keep feeling the tears trying to make their way out, but I turn them off just as quickly. I keep staring at his picture and wondering why on earth bad things happen? I get the concepts: Where there is bad there is also good. Without suffering there would be no compassion. I get it. I just really hate, when the bad hits so close to home.

This morning I received a call from my mother at 6 am. My alarm had gone off and I had just hit the snooze button when her name lit up. She told me that a friend of the family had died in a motorcycle accident late in the night. He wasn't someone I was extremely close to, but he was my cousin’s cousin. When we were younger we’d all see each other several time out of the year when our cousins from Georgia would come down for a visit. Since we were all pretty close in age as we got older it wasn't uncommon for me to see him around at some of the same places I frequented.

After high school he joined the army, did his tours, and when he got out he went back to school. I don’t know many details about his life but since all of our families kept up with each other I’d hear how he was doing from someone. That’s the wonderful thing about family. Everyone keeps up with each other in some way. The last time I had actually seen him was last year when he arrived at our house with one of my cousins. It was brief, and they were leaving as I was coming. But he wore that smile of his. In fact, I don’t think I ever saw him go without one. And that’s the look I’ll always remember. That’s the way I’ll always remember him.

The details are still blurred about how things happened. I won’t know much more until our family from Georgia arrives. I've tried looking at our local papers, including the surrounding counties. So far nothing has been published. It all seems so unreal. My mind keeps rejecting the idea, and I feel I need to see proof to believe it. I need to see an article, and read his name in it. Something; anything. After I got off the phone with my mother I felt like I didn't have a right to feel so saddened by this. It’s not like we were close. But I still felt like my heart was hurting. And as the morning has progressed that hurt has gotten worse. This was someone I knew. Someone I definitely cared about as one would an old friend. He was young, with a bright future. And now it’s all gone. Wiped away, just like that. And it really, really sucks. 

My prayers go out to his family. To his mother, who I can't even imagine the pain she's feeling right now. He had such a love for her and his sister. I pray for his little brother, for the grief that he must feel as well. He had someone amazing to look up to in his older brother, and I'm so sad that he was taken away. But I'm glad that they'll always have that to carry with them; the tremendous love he had for each and every one. And I pray for him; that he's in peace. 

I was truly blessed to have known such a wonderful and bright man. 

And I'll carry that with me always.  

p.s. I also want to pray for the other person involved.  He worked with my father, and we're told he was Careflighted to Dallas in critical condition. 

Prayers for West

This week just needs to be over with already. First the Boston bombings and now the West fertilizer plant explodes. I swear there needs to be a universal rules that limits the amount of tragedies the world should be able to handle in one month. Two in one week should not be allowed. But there goes my wishful thinking because I know that bad things happen every day somewhere. Still, a girl can hope right?

Last night a friend of mine asked for prayers for everyone involved. West, TX is about an hour and a half away from where I live, and it's not uncommon for people to have relatives or friends that live there. In fact, my boss man has a friend that lives there who he checked in with this morning. Thankfully they were safe, but  he told them that the death toll would more than likely go up. And that is just heartbreaking.

Throughout all of this, I keep hearing that even with such a tragedy many where able to be evacuated before the explosion happened. Many more are thankful that this happened when school was out, because apparently the intermediate is right next to the plant. I think we'd all be in a much different mind set this morning if that had happened. There has been a bit of looting which is such a disappointment, and makes me a bit angry. But above it all, kindness has been shining through and that's something that I'm so proud of!

So today my thoughts and prayers are with those directly affected by this. For those that lost their loved ones, or have loved ones that are hurt. And for all of the first responders that are there or traveling there to help.

Prayers For Boston

By now everyone’s heard about the Boston Marathon bombing. As someone who loves running, and one day hopes to witness the Boston Marathon take place in person, I was completely heartbroken when I first heard the news. Every year people from all over the world train long and hard to be invited to compete in this marathon. And thousands more go just to watch and be a part of it all. Some people run for a cause, a loved one, or just themselves. To show that they can do it, whatever their reasons. And it’s such a tragedy that this 26.2 mile accomplishment was tainted by such a horrendous act brought on by some coward(s).

Over the past 24 hours I've seen a lot of different reactions and comments about this incident, and not all of it has been respectful. In fact, some of it has been down right rude. Now, I know that it could have been worse. I know that the casualties could have been higher. And I know that this happens a lot on a daily basis in other countries (my heart goes out to them every day). But that doesn't make what happened in Boston yesterday any less horrible. Three lives were lost, and that’s three too many. Over 140 people were injured, and that’s 140 too many. And I know that there is always evil out in the world. I’m not completely naïve. But as an American I’m a little disappointed in some of the comments that were made yesterday by fellow Americans. Because I believe that instead of making jokes, or downplaying the the seriousness of what happened we should all be coming together by being helpful, respectful, and sympathetic.

For many yesterday was supposed to be a wonderful Patriots day! It was sunny, warm, and a perfect day to be outdoors. For many it was a day off to spend with their loved ones. Or a day to beat their last personal best at their first (or 5th) run. A day to cheer on a loved one, or complete a 26.2 mile run. It was supposed to be a good day. And it truly breaks my heart that it was tainted this way.

And to those that aren't being very nice try to remember that there are always men, women, children, family, and friends that are being directly affected by these tragedies. So we should all keep in mind that the people that were taken away yesterday, and all of those that were injured mattered greatly to someone out there. The loss of life can’t be undone, and those injured will be forever changed. And it should be our jobs as humans to care. Thankfully, even with all of the negative I was still left in awe of the kindness that was shown over and over.

p.s. You should read
Patton Oswalt's thoughts
on what happened yesterday.
Very inspirational.

December 14th

After last week's tragedy I can honestly say that I’m heartbroken. So much innocence was taken away. I can’t imagine what the families are going through. I can’t imagine what the parents are going through. I can’t imagine what was so bad that drove a young man to do this. I just can’t.

All weekend, I held Em close. I watched her sleep. I told her I loved her over and over again. We cuddled and danced. There were a lot of hugs and kisses. I took the time to just be still and appreciate what I was blessed with. Watching my daughter laugh and play, knowing that twenty families out there would not have this, broke my heart even more. I am so sorry that this happened. No one deserves this. No parent should have to go through this. Ever. I cried a lot. I prayed for the families, and I asked for God to heal us. All of us.

I prayed for him. This was something I have never done before, but I felt like I needed to so I did. I can't imagine what was so wrong in his life to make him do this, but I was sorry that it was. I'm sorry that this was his solution. I also prayed for my family. I prayed for our future as well as this nation's. And I thanked God for every morning he allows me to wake up with Emery in my life. I may not have much in my life, but I have my family. I have Em. And I should take the time to be thankful for this more often. This tragedy opened my eyes to how truly fragile life is. Living in a small town, or "knowing your neighbors", does not protect you. No matter how much we wish that it did. And we should never take the time we have here for granted because it can be taken away just like that. Our babies can be taken away just like that.

Now, I know that I said I would get back to “regular programming”, but after last Friday I just feel like I need a day. I need to feel okay. I need to hold my daughter a little extra. I need to allow myself to be okay with knowing that I don’t have control. But I also need to reassure myself that being scared, after something like this happens, is perfectly okay.

p.s. If you'd like, you can donate to the families affected by this tragedy. 

A Mud Run

Before I get into the main topic of my post today, I’d just like to say that our weekend did not go as planned. My husband and I were planning to have a nice night out on Saturday after the mud run. Then we were planning on going to the Aquarium on Sunday morning followed by lunch with a friend and his family. That didn’t happen. And as bummed as we were, we decided we’d just try again in a few weeks. :)  Silver lining.

Dad (far left), Brother (center)

Anyway, this past Saturday my brother and my dad competed in the “Original Mud Run” of Dallas/ Fort Worth with one of five company teams that FMC had formed. Of course, I went to cheer them on, and encourage them as they went through the course. I’m that person that’s running along side whenever possible. Regardless of what people say, those obstacles looked pretty tough. To add to the level of difficulty competitors had to wear pants and combat boots. At first it sounded like it would be pretty fun. Then, I found out that they had signed up for the 10k run not the 5k. Yup, they were insane.

We followed them along and met up at certain obstacles and check points. Emery came along too and she had so much fun. She wanted to keep running with me but after about a mile of us running to meet the guys my mom came and got her because she was thirsty and she looked pretty tired. But she cheered on her grandpa and uncle when she recognized them. It was pretty awesome. I was so proud of my dad and my brother for both kicking a lot of ass on Saturday. One of the conditions placed on teams is that they all had to cross either together or within 15 seconds of each other. And you’re only as strong as your weakest member. So even though they didn’t win a prize or a medal, I’m pretty sure their time was average and they all crossed together. I’m anxiously waiting for the site to post the results.

Unfortunately, a tragedy did take place at the event. A young man went missing and was found in the river on Sunday morning along the course route. Also, a women on one of our coed teams had to be transported out by ambulance during the race. So even though these events are supposed to be fun and challenging, they can be very dangerous. This a result of poor planning, and lack of vigilant personnel. According to the website (and at the event itself) they stated that you didn’t need to know how to swim, there would be lifeguards at each crossing of the Trinity River, alternate routes, plenty of volunteers would be present at the obstacles, and they would have paramedics on site. 

I was there, and none of these were even close to accurate. Ambulances had to be called to the site. I watched at each of the river crossings and there were no lifeguards. Only one alternate route that I could see, and due to only one entry point at each crossing people would all just jump in at once. This caused the rope to be pulled under while people were trying to hold on. Also, many contestants were being accidently pushed off into the river or kicked in the face. There were many “almost” drowning's. There were no volunteers directing the groups, or at every obstacle like there should have been. In fact, one of the 5k “waves” that had gone earlier that day ended up taking the 10k route because many of them didn’t know the route. It was such a jumbled mess. I would think that with such a well known event they would have had better coordinating teams, trained volunteers, and decent safety precautions in place. But I saw none.

My brother saved two people from drowning on Saturday. One of them came up to him after the race and thanked him. He told me that he himself had almost drowned. Now, my brother’s a really good swimmer so this was a shock to me. But he said it was chaotic. He had the air knocked out of him while trying to push a contestant that was struggling to stay afloat out of the water. Had his team mate not turned around and saw him sink, he says he very well could have died. This is such a scary thing for me. To know that someone actually died, in the same “wave” as my brother and father, while crossing the same river hits so close to home. No one saw the man go under. No one on land was paying attention. This very well could have been my dad or my brother. And that’s terrifying. It’s such an awful thing that could have been avoided and I feel awful for the family and friends of this man. It’s also really sad that it took something like this to bring to light the many flaws involved with this event. 

Thankfully, none of our guys were hurt. Thankfully, they all did really well. And thankfully, they all crossed together, as a team. I'm so proud of all of them. They did such a great job.

p.s. With the lack of safety precautions at this event, 

my brother has said that he probably won't participate 

in this specific mud run again unless they coordinate it better. 

9/11

I was in my eighth grade science class.
I remember seeing the second plane hit as it actually happened.
I remember hearing the bodies hit the ground with a pop.
And even though I was thousands of miles away, and I didn't know any of those people personally, I came home and cried.

No one deserved that.

I will always remember.

I Thought Friday Would Never Come

To say this past week was a nightmare, would be an understatement. Filled with disappointment, sadness, and heartache. But, I’ve had worse, and I refuse to let anything break me.

I noticed that I completely spaced on telling you guys about Emery getting “shocked” this past Tuesday. Not sure why it slipped my mind I guess I was just in a bit of a haze. But yea, we were taking a tour of our friends house that’s in the middle of getting redone for them. Emery was playing in the living room, and one of the light sockets was left uncovered. She stuck her finger in it and got zapped. Nothing big, she didn’t get sent to the floor. But she felt it enough to come over to me and start crying. Once, I saw where she was at, and her holding out her finger to me I knew what happened. I went to look at the wall and sure enough, the cover was off. I felt awful about it, and so did our friends. She cried for a bit, but then her daddy made her laugh. So everything was ok. Still a bit scary, and the next day is when we had the choking incident. So, I guess you could say we have all had a rough week.

This has been one hell of a week. I pray that we get a very slow, boring weekend. I need to relax and recharge the batteries. I need to start hearing good things. No more sadness, or death. I really don’t think I could take much more of either. Hope everyone else had a good one though! Hope you didn’t find me too depressing this past week. I promise I’ll be better starting Monday. Also, I’ve decided to do my weigh-ins every Friday. I’m giving my starting weight from when I first decided I needed to get my stuff together and start dieting. I know I’ve been off and on, but at least the numbers are going down right? I’ll be posting every Friday as a way to give me kind of a nice boost for the weekend to come. The goal weight looks pretty drastic, I know. But I’m taking it 10 lbs at a time. Hope the number keeps going down!!

Have a great weekend everyone!!

Weight Loss

Starting: 185 lbs

Last: 170 lbs

Current: 168 lbs

Goal: 130 lbs

Justice

Osama bin Laden is dead.

I did not hear the speech by President Obama and quite frankly, he hardly ever has anything to say that I find worth listening to. However, he is our president and currently our "leader" so I only hope that what he did say shed good light upon the USA. And I really hope it struck fear in the hearts of anyone who dare think they could destroy us.

Now, I would like to say that I am so thankful for our troops! For our freedom and for the peace this will bring to some of the families and people that lost so much on 9/11. I am so happy that we won this particular battle over terrorism. It was definitely long overdue.  

Still, I can't help but feel a little weird. I feel like we shouldn't celebrate the way they did. Do you remember the burning flags? The people cheering as the death tolls rose? How they were so excited while watching the planes fly into our buildings? I had never really seen that kind of hate before. It brought us as a country together, even if it were just for a moment, and today we are again coming together to celebrate a victory. But, I fear that we are celebrating in the wrong kind of way. I'm not saying to not be happy or to not rejoice over the fact that another evil man is dead. Because my first reaction was "Finally! Thank God, we finally found that evil human being." But I guess, Kristin over at "Project: Baby" explains it a lot better, so go read her take on the events here. 

I hope that the change I feel is coming to our country, isn't as awful as it feels.

Japan

Keep Japan and all those affected by what's happening in your prayers!

♥ Layla Grace Marsh 3/9/2010 ♥

This story truly breaks my heart. And what’s worse, is that there are so many children out there suffering! Not only from cancer, but from several other diseases. It seems like the farther we get along, the worse it gets. We have mother’s having abortions, people starving in other countries, children dying, hate crimes, and a whole bunch of other problems! And most of us just sit here, and we go on living our lives, pretending our own little problems are the end of the world. I AM GUILTY OF THIS! I am so guilty of this.

So when I ran across this story, I couldn’t help but break down into tears. Here was a family that lost their baby to something as ugly as cancer, and I was worried about Emery not self-soothing yet? What is WRONG with me?!? There are parents out there that have lost a child to SIDS, CANCER, STILLBIRTH, CAR ACCIDENTS, DISEASES, DEFECTS, and MISCARRIAGES! Women who would love to have my “problem”. Babies who would love to not have to go through chemo, be hooked up to a monitor, go through surgery, and just get a chance to run around outside! 

Every 4 hours a child dies from cancer. That’s 6 children a day. That’s one too many.

7,000 Babies die due to SIDS each year (that’s almost one every hour every day).

According to Child Maltreatment 2009, an estimated 1,770 children died as a result of abuse or neglect in 2009.

I know that GOD does things for a reason, and I know that all of those children are playing in heaven. And I hope that one day I’ll get to hear the sounds of their little feet! That I’ll get to hug every single one of them. But right now, I want to help whoever I can. I want to stop being so selfish and start making a difference for someone out there!! For the amount it costs me to eat out ONCE a week, I could send to help a family pay for chemotherapy. For the amount it takes me to buy Em all those toys, I could give a child a gift to lift their spirits! I would want someone to do that for my child. I would want to know that others were helping me give my little girl a chance. Now I’m not saying stop eating out or stop buying your kids things. I’m just saying, every once in a while, think about someone else. Volunteer, donate, hold fundraisers, send care packages, or even just a card! It really does make that much of a difference.  It really does help. 

Layla Grace Marsh

11/26/2007- 3/9/2010

Layla Grace Marsh was born on November 26, 2007. At 17 months old, she was diagnosed with Stage 4 Neuroblastoma. The next 10 months of her life consisted of chemotherapy, radiation, surgeries, multiple blood transfusions, and a bone marrow harvest and transplant. Her parents, Ryan and Shanna Marsh, chronicled her progress through Twitter and their blog, laylagrace.org. On March 9, 2010—the joy, the beauty, the fighter—gained her wings.

Read Her Mother’s Post, One Year Later Here

And another one here.

Today we remember the little girl that won the world's heart. Today we remember her fight and that she lost the battle but continues to help others. Today we remember that there are still thousands of children out there fighting for their lives!

I Cried...

Good to Great | Layla Grace Children's Cancer Research Foundation

I can honestly say that I hadn't heard about this little girl. Probably because I was so caught up in my own world and problems that I didn't notice anything. I never really got online or watch the news.

And this makes me so sad. We have so many little angels up there...

Loss Blogs

I stumbled across this blog via Top Mommy Blogs it was called, Four Plus An Angel. I was moved by her attitude and by her story. I felt like, she had to be one of the strongest mothers out there, to have this happen and come out "ok" (you never forget but life must continue). So I started looking around and I came across another loss blog, Nicholas' Touch, and I was literally crying in my cubical on my lunch break. And then I would click on another site, and read another mother's story of loss, and I was in tears all over again! There are so many of you! Some of you lost children recently, some not so recently. And it breaks my heart! I'm sure these blogs that I read are just the tip of the iceberg! There are hundreds (thousands) more of you out there. And I have no idea how you women do it?! I would wish that loss on no one. I can't say that I personally know how you feel, because I have not lost a child. But I can imagine that it would be a thousand times more painful than anything I have felt. And so today, I just wanted to tell all of you:

I am so sorry for your loss. I will pray for you, and for your families. I pray that GOD help you through this, and bring healing into your hearts. However long it takes. And I know that all of your little ones are in heaven, and in your hearts. I pray that you take some (even if it's just a tiny bit) comfort in knowing that.