I’ve only very recently discovered the trend known as “trad wife” content creators. Do I consider myself to be another “trad wife”, like the ones who regularly share content with this hashtag? The answer would be a resounding NO! Not just no, but hell nah. Nope. Absolutely, unequivocally, no. For one thing, I’m by no means a hardcore holistic, zero processed foods, all organic, grow all my own food and prepare it while wearing prairie dresses and an apron kind of girl. No shame to women who enjoy those things. Personally, it just isn’t me. I buy the things we eat from (gasp) the grocery store. Except for the occasional trip to our local farmer’s market during Summer months, or the stuff our neighbor brings us from his backyard garden, our meals are not created from fresh, completely organic food. I don’t, nor want to live on a farm. Again, I mean no offense to anyone who does live that way, it’s just not me. I kinda suck at baking homemade breads, and most certainly don’t maintain a constant supply of sour dough bread starters. Not that I don’t enjoy trying out recipes for various types of breads. It can be a lot of fun. Most of our sandwich bread, buns, rolls come from (gasp again) the grocery store. And, by the grocery store, I don’t mean Whole Foods. I’m talking about Publix, Kroger, Aldi, Costco, and even (gasp twice as loudly for this one) Walmart. This oft hated on, one stop shopping center has been the subject of many a controversy throughout my adult life. Let’s be real, though. I don’t know anyone, not one person, who doesn’t make any purchases from their local Walmart. C’mon now. I know people who’ve claimed to be much too conscientious (i/e, pretentious) to step foot inside the horrible very bad no good place here in America, known as Walmart. They lie. Yep, I said it. I saw the granimals tag sticking out of your toddler’s shirt. Your pantry has canned green beans with the Great Value label on full display….Ya lyin’. I say this with no shame, I am a card carrying Walmart Plus member. I know, right? How can I sleep at night knowing I’m supporting such a horrible very bad no good company? I don’t actually sleep particularly great, but my Walmart membership is certainly not one of the things weighing on my conscience. Sorry not sorry.

I have zero interest in portraying myself, my family, our home, wardrobes, or my cooking as ultimate pictures of perfection. I’m not ashamed of any of these things, by any means! I can take pride in my family and home, without presenting completely unrealistic ideals on social media. I enjoy nice things. I don’t feel the need to document and show off my stuff or my skills in a video while I pretend that’s not exactly what I’m doing. Being a wife and mom, a homemaker, has been my life’s ambition. Truly. It isn’t a cosplay opportunity. Housewives aren’t handed out a starter package with a wardrobe you’d wear to the flippin’ Met Gala. New moms aren’t all standing in their kitchens in a $6,000 dress, 4 inch heels, hair and makeup done by the glam squad that came along with our housewife kit while we teach you how to make a breakfast Gordon Ramsey himself would envy. Miss perfect “trad wife”, doing the most to convince your audience that they too can and should be just like you 10 days postpartum, under all that makeup and expensive clothing we all know you’re wearing an adult diaper. Just like all the other new mothers in their kitchens at 5:00am with their hair up in the messy bun they styled days ago, which now dangles precariously off to one side of her head. Wearing pajama pants and an oversized T-shirt that smells like breast milk. You can pretend it isn’t true, but every mother knows the reality of what’s happening underneath the carefully crafted image being displayed there.

I guess what most irks me about the “trad wife” content I’ve seen, is the arrogance and the judgmental attitude so clearly on display. There’s an obvious disdain for the very audience being spoken to. There very well could be, and probably are, some women who are claiming that label, or hashtag, in their posted content who are nothing but kind and sincere. From what I’ve observed, that hasn’t been the case. Of course, I’ve only been introduced to a handful of these people and their content. I fully acknowledge my impression is based on limited experience within that space. For me, I’ve been blessed with the ability to make the choices for myself and my family that were what I wanted, needed, and believed were best. What’s right for me and my family is not a one size fits all prescription for everyone. My desires and my joy are just that, mine. We need to quit preaching our convictions as if they should be held by all. There is a clear danger in becoming so deeply invested in the image being portrayed to others, that your true identity gets lost. What works for you right now might not always work for your future. There’s nothing inherently wrong with sharing your ideas or your perspective. My issue is with those who proclaim their versions of homemaking, motherhood, marriage are the one and only path to success. Not only is that completely false, I’ve seen many lives turned upside down because they chose to remain inside a fantasy of their own making, as their reality crumbles, rather than dare admit the things they put on the internet aren’t real life.

Please do share your recipes, your tips and tricks around the house. Tell us all about what has worked for you. For the love of God, though, stop pretending to be superior and fooling others into believing it.

If I just breathe
Let it fill the space between
I’ll know everything is all right
Breathe
Every little piece of me, you’ll see
Everything is all right
If I just breathe

~Michelle Branch

Today, I’ve just been doing some more housework. I love that I can do things like washing everyone’s bedding and hanging it out to dry. It always smells sooo good, and then I sleep great. I went through some of my kitchen cabinets, the other day, and I got everything all organized neatly again. I also got Adam and my closet completely declutterred and reorganized. I bought some cheap shelving meant for those canvass storage totes, and used them to put our jeans and all the clothes previously just sitting on the wire shelves. Inevitably, they would become messy piles of mixed up clothes because they’d get tipped over, so I was in need of a solution. It worked perfect!

I baked some lemon pound cake, this afternoon. I’m going to make corned beef gravy with mashed potatoes and biscuits for supper, tonight. I’m planning to record that, but I’m going to upload last night’s taco lasagne supper video, today. I’ll try to get tonight’s meal prep shared here tomorrow. I told Adam, last night, I get nervous when I’m recording video. I can write so much more and better than I can talk out loud. He laughed and teased me, I dunno? You know how to talk plenty, too!

I feel like I’m slipping back into my “domestic role”, and it feels really good for me. I badly needed the distraction my job gave me, when I took it. For the most part, I’m in a much better headspace now, and I was seriously missing out with my babies as well as being driven crazy by the unorganized mess my house had become. I didn’t even realize just how much I missed cooking good suppers and baking yummy things for my family, until I was able to do these things again.

Between Adam’s mom’s illness, our messy relationship with our son, and the losses of people I’d so intertwined my entire life with, Adam and I have definitely struggled to find the time or energy for the exciting sex life we had together, before. I also haven’t done a damn thing to get into any real trouble with him. Or, if there was something, it wasn’t serious and had a valid explanation, so there weren’t any consequences for them. Adam told me, the other night, how incredibly loyal he’s recognized I am. He said, most women would never have stuck around through all this shit, but you did, and I’ll never ever forget that. For me, I truly couldn’t imagine myself anywhere but wherever he and I are, together. It’s as if God skillfully and purposefully constructed the most amazing man for me to fit perfectly into. I hurt, with the losses I’ve faced over this past half decade. I miss some people, the way I believed I knew and had them. There is simply no competition, if life ever forced me to choose between my husband and every single other thing that mattered to me. I choose him, always and every time. I wish this past year hadn’t brought this sorrow and hurt, but just like every other year that’s come before it, I do not love my husband like last year. I love him more. Whatever life brings, I’ve got his back, and he sure as hell has got mine. I know for certain, I never could’ve made it through everything without my Adam.

I suppose I’ll start getting things ready, so I can get started on our supper. I don’t really have much else to write about here, today. I’m okay with the peaceful quiet of days like these, anyway.

One day I’m gon’ finally be
Everything that I ever dreamed
So let the world try and hold me back
I keep my head up at the stars
And hustle until I get there
Cuz nothing in life, nobody in life
Is gonna steal my shine
Nothing’s gonna steal my shine

~Crucifix

Today, the sun came back out, after a long week of rain and clouds here. We did get a brief break from the rain, on Friday. I took my girls out for coffee drinks. That evening, we all played some cornhole out back. It was so much fun just spending time laughing and being silly with my family!

It started back to pouring rain, right about 11:00, but it was a great time.

Today was a typical day, here. I take B (Brooklyn, we call her B) to school and pick her up when she’s finished. She has already gotten so many high school credits, she is able to leave school at 12:45 everyday. I can’t believe there’s only a month left of this school year!

I did some cleaning and baking, today. I made banana bread and chocolate chip cookies. I also made my “famous” sloppy joes for supper. I meant to talk about it, in the video I’m posting below, but I got sidetracked. Instead, I’ll just share my recipe here, if I haven’t already? I really can’t even remember whether I’ve done that?

1.5 lbs ground beef or turkey

Minced onion

1 1/2 cups ketchup

4 Tbs worstershire sauce

4 Tbs brown sugar

Just brown the meat with onion, add other ingredients, and let simmer on low. I always serve with both hamburger buns for sandwiches, and with tortilla chips and nacho cheese sauce for making “sloppy nachos”.

I feel like there is no need for conversation
Some questions are better left without a reason
And I would rather reveal myself than my situation
Now and then I consider my hesitation

The more the light shines through me
I pretend to close my eyes
The more the dark consumes me
I pretend I’m burning, burning bright

I wonder if the things I did were just to be different
To spare myself of the constant shame of my existence
And I would surely redeem myself in my desperation
Here and now I’ll express my situation

There’s nothing ever wrong, but nothing’s ever right
Such a cruel contradiction
I know I crossed the line, it’s not easy to define
I’m born to indecision
There’s always something new, some path I’m supposed to choose
With no particular rhyme or reason

The more the light shines through me
I pretend to close my eyes
The more the dark consumes me
I pretend I’m burning

~Shinedown

This post is going to be all over the place. I made a video while I prepared our supper, last week. I’d intended to share it here sooner, but life’s been life-ing, lately. We’ve had some serious flooding, over the past week. The kids have been out of school since last Wednesday, and still there’s no school tomorrow because of it. Mercifully, our home is not in one of the low lying neighborhoods that have been devastated by the flooding, but there are many families around us who haven’t been as fortunate.

Brooklyn’s senior prom was this weekend, too. We weren’t sure it would happen, because of all the flooded streets, businesses, and homes, but they did decide to go ahead with prom. She was so happy! She looked absolutely gorgeous!

Everything is a strange mixture of wonderful and terrible, joy and sadness, all at once. Everyday, I am still hurting so badly. The enormous betrayal by these people I so loved and trusted has left very deep wounds within me that I’m not sure can ever be healed. I’m certain there will be permanent scars. Ones not visible to those who only ever see the parts of myself I’m willing to share. Only a very small handful of people around me now are truly aware of these ugly and broken parts of me I so cautiously conceal. There are some who have noticed my efforts to hide pieces of myself. I have given vague explanations that are not lies, but also are not the whole truth either. I have fears that prevent me from sharing all of it. Fear that I could make myself again vulnerable, and in my mind, showing others exactly where I’m weakest is an open invitation for them to stab me in the back, too. I have fear of so horrifying others, if they were to ever see my “open and bloody wounds”, that they might mock me, judge me, or run from me. I don’t believe I’m strong enough to survive even one more injury inflicted by someone I allowed myself to care about, or trusted would care for me.

Something I do want to make clear here, is that this isn’t about forgiveness, or inability to forgive. It’s not about holding onto anger. I’m not angry. Not but rarely, anyway. My choices to remain apart from each and every person I’ve separated from are not easy for me. My decisions aren’t made because I need to punish anybody, or because I am someone who holds onto grudges. I truly don’t believe that I’m a “cold” or uncaring person. I never asked for any of this. In my worst nightmares, I still couldn’t have imagined losing so many people I cherished. I wouldn’t have believed for one moment I’d be in this position of having to say goodbye to so many who aren’t actually gone. I absolutely cannot allow myself and, most importantly, my family to be exposed to anyone I’m not certain can be trusted. And truth be told, at this point, almost no one meets that criteria. My dad, my husband, my daughters, and Adam’s family are all that’s left of those I’m confident will not betray us. I’ve never required those around me to be perfect. I’m able to overlook, forgive, and get past almost anything. I understand there are flaws within all of us. We sometimes hurt, disappoint, and let down those we love most. All I’ve ever needed for trust to exist, is genuine remorse for those mistakes, when they do happen. I just needed to know mistakes, bad judgement, any damage caused, was truly regretted and that every effort to ensure it wouldn’t happen again would be made. I’ve no faith whatsoever this can sincerely come from those who’ve so intentionally caused or contributed to the pain and the losses my family and I are still reeling from. I’m afraid there’s an inability for some people to ever really and truly accept love, which makes it impossible for them to give it, either. There are some who have been so affected by harm inflicted upon them by others, there is irreparable damage done to the place within the heart designed for love in relationships to withstand the inevitable challenges that come. I’m overwhelmed by fear that the same could or has happened to me, too. What if I’m broken, now? Am I good for the people who’ve remained so devoted to me, trusting and believing in me to care for them from that place within my own heart reserved for loving them well? Am I a bad person? Have I brought this onto myself and my family? Is it my fault? Was I blind to my own inability to be good for those I’ve loved? Is it my reckless ignorance, my refusal to accept what is instead of what I hoped could be, which has allowed the circumstances that led to this pain? I spend countless hours going over and over again every single significant moment, and I consider endless what ifs. What if I’d said this, instead? What if I’d done that, instead? I struggle often with my thoughts of all my inadequacies. If I was a better daughter, sister, wife, mother, friend…then maybe? I cannot deny the obvious faults I’ve accepted within myself, believing my best intentions could overcome the chaos made possible because of them. It doesn’t matter how well intentioned, my best just wasn’t good enough for everyone. I’ve given to those I’ve loved from the purest most authentic places of my heart, but that’s irrelevant when it comes to the fact that it clearly didn’t provide enough to sustain these relationships that so mattered to me. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, or didn’t realize it, until it was too late. That hurts real bad. The sting of all the betrayal is matched by this awareness that I’m just as liable for it, if I’m not the kind of person I thought I was.

Having said all of that, I’m doing okay. I’m okay. Well, I will be. I think I will be. I’m pretty sure, anyhow.

Mikayla was home for the weekend. She left a few hours ago. The girls and I went out for coffee, this afternoon. I took the pictures and videos of the flooding along the way.

One of my best friends I grew up with has been working to convince me to come along with her to a concert in Las Vegas, in July. I’ve been thinking about it. It would be so much fun to go to the concert with her, and to spend time with a close girl friend. We’re going to visit Adam’s family, in Kansas, over Easter. His mom is fighting this cancer valiantly. She’s incredible. Still, she’s very sick. Her battle is one we’re all aware cannot be “won”. Instead, she fights like hell to be here with us for as long as possible. Her strength is so beyond anything I could ever imagine possessing myself. It’s inspiring to see her perseverance and positivity. She has a quiet confidence, assured that it is okay and that she is okay. Her faith in God gives her comfort that sustains her always. I really should take these valuable lessons from her. Nothing shakes her faith, and nothing or no one can take her peace.

~The Jane Dear Girls

I have one more “cast member” to finally introduce, here. This past October, I had another daughter who celebrated her 18th birthday. Brooklyn Hope was born just 15 months after Mikayla. Mikayla was only 8 months old when I discovered I was having another baby. Brooklyn was barely 6 months old when their dad and I began to live our own separate lives apart from one another. Mikayla had just turned 3, and Brooklyn was soon to be 2, when I started dating Adam. I’d wound up calling Mikayla, Brooklyn, and Wyatt our “Irish triplets”. We spent all these years working to build our beautiful family, and it’s been such incredible speed with which it seems most of these pieces we’d finally sewn together have come unraveled. While I’ve always been peripherally aware the days would come, when my babies would begin to separate themselves from our home and this family Adam and I call ours so they could grow and build their own lives, I just don’t think I’m ready. Could I ever have been ready? I will readily admit it’s a jealous love I have for my children. Perhaps a selfish love? I just so deeply wanted to give them more than they’ve gotten, yet. I had all these hopes and dreams and so many plans formed with the purest of intentions. There’s too many things I haven’t done. Haven’t said. Should’ve done. Should’ve said. And, as many or maybe more things I wish I hadn’t done or said. My children’s journeys simply do not begin when I’m ready. They have, are, and will begin to take their first timid steps out into a world I cannot design or dictate for them. They’ll have their very own unique stories to write, and childhood is only one brief chapter.

My Brooklyn was due to have been born on December 28. She arrived much sooner, on October 17. She has always been a tiny yet absolutely fierce girl. She’s fought hard for her place in this world, and dammit she’s earned it. She’s been defying the odds since the moment she was created. I truly admire her strength and determination. She’s shown unbelievable courage in the face of every single challenge that’s been set before her. I simply couldn’t be more proud to have been chosen to be her mama.

It was my Brooklyn who had surgery, last week. The surgeons removed everything they deemed necessary, and then drilled holes into her “distal lateral femur”, with hope that her body will begin to repair the missing bone and cartilage that was damaged and destroyed. As always, my brave and beautiful Brooklyn has proven to be as amazing as ever. We just had the appointment to remove her stitches and staples, yesterday. She will be exclusively using her crutches to get around, for the next 5 weeks. Her orthopedic oncologist will have us go in for a repeat MRI and x-rays, on April 21, and in his words “we will go from there”. She’s been looking forward to her prom, this year, and even though she will be on crutches, she’s definitely going to be there!

I have so much more to say, but not tonight.

Wake me up when the season’s gone
‘Cause I’ve wasted all my dawns on you
So what do I do?
Oh, what I do?

I get fucked up just ’cause I’m scared
Love’s just another drug I have grown a victim to
So what do I do?
Oh, what do I do?

All is fair in love and war
So what the hell are we even fightin’ for?
I’m on your front porch beggin’ for my dawns back
Give my goddamn records and my clothes back
‘Cause I’m through
Oh, how I’m through

Give me my dawns back
Everything that dies makes its way back
I lost her last July in a heart attack
I need one small victory

~Zach Bryan

In the Fall of 2023, Jackie and I went shopping, and returned home with a whole bunch of craft supplies. We spread everything out all over our ping pong table, in the basement, and thus began what would be a regular hobby we shared. I would always tell my “Alexa” to play country music, while we painted and worked on our latest craft projects. Zach Bryan had a couple of new songs that year that we’d hear often played. I can’t listen to his music without thinking of those times, with Jackie. I don’t even listen to music when I’m crafting, anymore. I’ll put on a podcast, or find a show to put up on the TV.

I’m sitting in my basement, surrounded by my mess of wood, paint, and ribbon I used this weekend, for my latest projects. I craft by myself, now. I’ve been making a lot of Spring themed things. I’ve been using a much more neutral color palette, recently. I’d have loved to show Jackie how much better I’ve gotten at making pretty bows. I sometimes make something and think to myself, I’ll bet she’d have liked this.

One week from tomorrow will be my last day at my work. My baby’s surgery is scheduled for Wednesday the 12th of March. After several days and nights spent contemplating, weighing my options, I came to the conclusion that it’s the right thing for all of us for me to focus on taking care of my family. I am only one person, with finite hours and limited resources to give everyday. My manager has been amazing. When I talked with her about this, last week, she was super understanding and supportive. She made a point to tell me that, in two or three months, when my baby’s back to herself and our other family stuff has settled down, my job will still be there for me if I want it. Everyone at work has been great. For the majority of my time there, I intentionally avoided allowing anyone there to ever know me. It sort of became like the “Streisand Effect”, because it seemed the harder I worked at going unnoticed, the more they all paid attention to me. Although, for the most part, I did manage to keep most of myself hidden from everyone, there have been a few people I’ve shared some of myself with. I was so disinterested in forming any new friendships, but it happened anyway.

Mikayla was home, this weekend. It’s always so quiet in here, after her and Jandrel leave on Sundays. She still cries every time it’s time for her to go back to her dorm in Knoxville. She’s doing absolutely fantastic, at school, though! She’s in an aerospace engineering club, and has gotten a coveted spot as part of a team building rockets there. She’s in an accelerated masters program, and she’s already considering going for her doctorate in aerospace engineering. Besides all that, she’s also tutoring. I’m so proud of that kid!

I’d love to write more, but it’s getting late, and we’ve all got school and work in the morning. I need to go fix Adam and Mj’s lunches for tomorrow, and then get to bed. I wouldn’t mind getting naked with my husband before we drift off to sleep, either.

Goodnight y’all

Many nights I laid awake
Overdosing on pure pain
Heartbreak and a side of pills
Whiskey bottle’s still call my name
Now and then like an old friend
Lost some place against the grain
The hands of time still ticking
The winds of life keep going by
I feel that cold winter breeze
That lets me know I’m still alive
And I can’t lie, I’ve been hurt bad
I told myself don’t turn back
Gotta go and find what I’m searching for
God knows I deserve that
And sometimes I still dream
Wake up in a pool of sweat
That sun shining through the blinds
Just in time for the sunset
Still finding good in all the bad
But all the good ain’t come yet
I take a look into my daughter’s eyes
It lets me know I ain’t done yet
I’ve been running blind through the darkness
Over time became heartless
But I’m still gonna shine regardless
And if you ever doubted me
Well that’s ok just wait and see
Cause I haven’t met one single person
That could ever doubt me as much as me

I’ve been spending all this time
Tryna pick up all the pieces
Tryna walk a line and fight away all my demons
So if you stick around, so maybe you can see
One day I’ll make you proud
Right now you don’t believe me
That’s ok
I’ll probably burn every bridge along the way
But that’s ok
Cause I’m still standing here today

~Nu Breed & Jesse Howard

This afternoon, at work, I was making some phone calls. I suddenly remembered something that had happened while I made our collection calls, some two months or so ago. The man I’d called had answered the phone and immediately began to describe how he would rape me. I hung up the phone, and within a minute, our phone was ringing. I answered with our typical greeting, “Thank you for choosing [our company]. This is [Eve]. How can I help you?” A familiar voice responded, “What are you wearing, Eve?” I slammed the phone back down into its cradle, and I began to shake as a rush of adrenaline, fear, and anger washed over me. I took a break, and returned 15 minutes later to finish my phone calls. I had been working alone, that day. It wasn’t until this afternoon that I shared this incident with my manager. She looked horrified and asked me why hadn’t I said something sooner?! I didn’t have a good answer. The truth was, I’d forgotten it. All these days I’ve continued to make daily phone calls at work, and wasn’t reminded of that one. Today, it wasn’t a phone conversation, or anything you’d expect would jog a memory like this one, that brought it back to the surface in my mind. It was the sunshine pouring through the windows. The way the sun shone into my office was the spark that ignited the memory of that flame. I’m aware of how strange that must seem. Hell, I think it’s weird! My manager was flabbergasted, asking how I can just “forget” something like that. The thing of it is, that’s nothing new for me. I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. I’ve had stressful or traumatic memories dating back as far as my early childhood that I’ve only remembered well into adulthood. The way I describe it, it’s like being told about some amazing tacos you had at this restaurant last night. You ask if I’ve ever tried their tacos. I’m not lying when I answer, nope. So one day, you and I go to this restaurant, order their tacos, and I genuinely believe this is my first time having them. Over the next several months, we get these tacos multiple times. And then, one day, it dawns on me. I used to come to this place with my grandma! The last time we were there, [something awful happened], and we never visited that restaurant again. I can recall every detail from the last time I’d been there, with my grandma. I remember what I was wearing. I remember my grandma’s purse, and how I’d been playing with the little tassel that hung from its zipper. I remember the rain that was falling down onto us, and the puddle I’d not so accidentally splashed in as my grandma hurried me inside… All these years later, after all the times I’d gotten these tacos with you, it wasn’t until this moment I had ever remembered any of that. The sight and the smells at the restaurant, its name, their delicious tacos, none of that was the trigger that unleashed the flood of memories I’d apparently kept suppressed deep within my memory. It was the rain. It was the puddle of water I’d cautiously avoided, as I hurried inside, today. That is exactly how my brain manages to pull long forgotten memories from whatever place they’ve been hidden. That is exactly how I handle overwhelmingly stressful events. I simply “forget”, until I remember.

I’m not sure there’s a clear point I can make with all of that. It’s just something I recognized in myself, today.

I’ve been doing a lot of crafting and redecorating, lately. I’m doing my best to embrace the opportunities to make changes around me that can reflect who and where I’m at, today. I’ve really done a whole lot of things different, at home. Looking around my house, everything’s familiar, but it’s also not the way it used to be. I’m growing to be ok with that. I’m able to find beauty in what’s around me. And, if I can’t see it where I used to, I’ll repaint, or add a bow. Anything to bring the light back into the place I call home. It feels more like home, again. Like maybe I’m actually finding my way back home.

Lately I’ve been wondering

When it’s all gonna end

‘Cause I’m tired of bein’ sick and tired

And I ain’t got much more in me

I’m running outta steam

And there ain’t no sleep for the wicked

So I’ve just been doin’ me

And so far it’s safe to say

That I haven’t been doin’ so well

~Chris Hosier

As has been a reoccurring theme here, lately, there’s a whole lot of shit going on. My sweet daughter has been having some knee pain for about a year, now. A few weeks ago, she suddenly couldn’t even walk. She couldn’t bend or straighten her left knee, and she had tears pouring down her face from the pain. I brought her back to her doctor, to again search for answers about what in the hell was happening. I’d taken her into the doctor no less than five times prior, looking to find an explanation for her worsening symptoms. She had X-rays done (for the third time since this began). This time, her doctor noticed something “suspicious”. We were referred to an orthopedic surgeon. An orthopedic oncologist surgeon, to be precise. She was seen there just two days later. They did MRI scans, and this doctor was able to give us some clarity. Some. He is relatively certain he knows exactly what’s causing her problems. Mercifully, he’s confident the growth is benign, but she has an abnormal growth in the cartilage around her knee. It has actually damaged her bone, to the point she has a piece of the lower part of her femur that’s broken off and is now just floating around in her knee area. As if that isn’t painful enough, this piece of bone is sometimes getting caught up in her knee joint, and prevents her from being able to bend or straighten her knee until it finally moves again. She will be going in for some pretty serious surgery, here very soon. I’m praying she’ll only need one surgery, but he warned us that’s unlikely. It’s possible, but the odds are she’s going to end up needing to have at least one more surgery after this one. They will cut out the growth within her cartilage and bone, and remove unhealthy tissue and bone. They’ll then be placing pins in her femur, in an attempt to get new healthy bone and cartilage to grow back. She’ll be in a full leg cast for 6 weeks, and then start rehab and physical therapy. Unless she isn’t able to grow new bone and cartilage. If that’s the case, and the surgeon stressed that cartilage is notoriously difficult to repair, they’ll need to do a bone graft. That surgery would mean taking some of her pelvic bone and grafting it onto her femur bone.

Adam’s mom is going in for a lung biopsy, next week. The results will determine one of two possible paths she’ll be taking. Either they’ll begin aggressive chemotherapy, to prolong her life as much as possible, OR she’ll be sent home on palliative care, to help keep her as comfortable as possible because chemo would be ineffective and would only make her feel unwell through all her last days with us. So, this biopsy will be a huge determining factor as far as hers and all of our foreseeable future goes. We’re all planning to take her to Cancun, Mexico, this Summer. It’s on her “bucket list”, and we intend to do everything we can to make sure it happens.

I talked with my manager, at work, a couple weeks ago. At first, I’d told her I have to quit. After I realized my daughter needed an appointment with an oncologist, that was my final straw. My manager cried and told me she totally understood, and to do whatever I need to do for my baby. But, she insisted she has my back at work. She told me she loves me, and doesn’t want to lose me. I think we’ve decided that I’ll first try dropping my hours down to part time. We’ll schedule around the things I need to do for my family, and I’ve got 3 and a half weeks of vacation time, 16 hours of paid floating holiday time, plus a week and a half left of sick time I can use while my daughter recovers and when we need to go visit Adam’s mom. I know how lucky I am to have such an understanding and empathetic manager, with a job that has a flexible schedule that could allow me to be here for my family. Hopefully. Hopefully it can all work out. Maybe one of these days we can have some semblance of normality brought back into our lives, and me and my family can finally put ourselves back together again. Until then, I’ll just have to keep clinging to the rope I’ve found myself attached to, dangling precariously over an unknown abyss I’d rather not discover the inside of. Every time I ask myself, “How could things possibly get any harder?”, they do.