To Hell and Back, Part 1

It was three years ago this week. Today is especially difficult for some reason. I saw a photo from our trip this morning, him smiling and happy as can be in a high chair in his hospital room, and it threw me too far back. I wasn’t prepared for it. I didn’t have a chance to brace myself before seeing the picture. It grabbed me and beat the hell out of me before I had a chance to realize what was happening. It’s absolutely fascinating to me how you can grow and learn and heal from something so immensely yet still feel/relive all of the original emotions so intensely.


As promised, I’ve finally gathered the energy to recap the trip to Colorado that nearly did my family in and explain how it relates to me seeing Adele this summer (part 3). As I write this, my children are safe in their beds sleeping peacefully as if it never happened. The younger one doesn’t even remember the experience; the older one remembers it and thinks it’s fun to tell the crazy stories, but it didn’t leave a lasting impact on him like it did for my husband and I.

The story you are about to read is actually a pivotal moment in my life. The experience and how it fits into the last four years is largely responsible for the amazing personal growth occurring in my life right now, but my heart is racing and I’m frequently choking back tears as my fingers fly across my keyboard.

Over the course of…

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