The "Pregnancy Game" Statuses On FaceBook

I'm pretty certain that those of you reading this, have a FaceBook page. And I'll bet you two to one, that at least once, within your News Feed, you have seen the now infamous "cravings game". The status goes like this...

""I'm _weeks and craving _"

It is inboxed to LADIES ONLY on FaceBook, and specifically in the email, like the bra and purse games, you are not to NOT tell the men about it, and to keep them guessing what it's all about. All the while, it is SUPPOSED TO be promoting Breast Cancer Awareness.

Here's one little flaw. BC Awareness is NEXT month, people! In October. Not in September. And it sure as hell is not in August (when it started to circulate)!

And here is flaw number two. Do you all know what other Awareness time it is, in OCTOBER, that coincides with Breast Cancer Awareness Month? Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.

Personally, I see it as being insensitive to Breast Cancer survivors and those that sadly lost the battle, to use pregnancy "jokes" as a means to raise awareness. Being that it, as well as the bra thing is NOTHING in relation to the subject of Breast Cancer. And yes, to me, it is also in a way, distasteful to make it a "game" when there are many women (and men) that have lost a baby during pregnancy.

If you (general use, not to any specific person) are going to try and raise awareness for something or a cause you believe in, then it's best to "shoot from the hip" and state specifically what the nature of the subject is. Not to make others wonder (especially saying WOMEN ONLY CAN KNOW WHAT IT REALLY MEANS). That does not a thing to raise awareness for the ACTUAL cause/subject.

Plus think about this...men are MEN. They aren't going to sit and think "oh look, I think that these ladies are trying to make us aware of a deadly disease that can even strike men". They are just sitting there, wondering "WTH is this crap with weeks and cravings for all these candies?". Sad, but true. Even my husband has said it's not doing a single thing to "raise awareness".

As a mom that has lost 2 angel babies, and as a daughter-in-law that has a MIL who has survived BC twice and other cancers as well, I'm sorry, but yes I am a bit offended, and I have strong oppositions to "games" like this that don't do a thing for the "root point" of awareness.

*Wander with me over at FOR THE LOVE OF BLOGS and join in the fun!*

Memories Of The Past, Memories In The Making

I'm eight years old, and it is officially the first day of school. I'm off to First Grade in Mrs. Bartley's class. I'm all ready to go in my white, ruffle-neck dress shirt, my purple overalls with the yellow tulip on the front, and my pigtails upon my head.

Being it's no more than a seven-minute walk to school, and back then, my area was pretty darn safe, my parents started out on the journey to my new school along side me, with Sarah, our Corgi. They stopped at the corner of the next street over from us and let me finish the walk on my own. As a big girl.

I remember vaguely, as I turned my head to see my parents still standing there at the corner, after I crossed the street, then crossed to the opposite corner at the end of the block. They waved to me, my dog looking sad and in wonderment of where her "sister" is going off to without her. My mom, I saw wiping tears from her eyes, trying not to fall apart, as most of us mothers do when their babies start trying out their wings.

After waving good-bye and walking out of their sight, I can only imagine how Mom fell apart, and how Dad had to console her on that "lonely" walk back to the house after I made the rest of my way off to school that beautifully warm and sunny morning.

But that would also be the last time she would ever see me take that "big leap" in growing up. Ever. Because the year before I was to start Junior High/Middle School, my mother had passed away after having suffered from a massive stroke and pneumonia.

Yesterday (Thursday, August 18th) my oldest had her Middle School orientation to take a dry run at finding her classes, knowing how to get in to her locker, meet her teachers and to learn the rules.

She has to get on the bus now, about an hour earlier than before, when she attended Elementary School. And she is fine with that. Because she also now gets out about an hour earlier than her siblings.

As my daughter waited outside at the bus stop (which for her, is now across the street) I had the flashbacks. I saw her as a tiny girl again, just starting Preschool. She and I waited for the bus at the top of the hill near our former home. She was SO excited. And I watched as she clomped up each step with her short, stubby little legs, and her huge backpack on her back, as she boarded the bus. It took all that I had to not just lose it right then and there.

Yesterday, it hit me. Not only am I seeing my little girl, my first born, grow up before my very eyes into what will be a stunningly beautiful young woman, but I am witnessing something my mother never was able to have the chance to, and never will. Not with myself, and not with her grandchildren.

I was VERY close to my oldest daughter's age when I lost my mother. And I am only about eight and a half years younger than my mother's age when she died. It pains me to know that my mother has had to miss out on SO much. My marriage. My kids. How I have grown and matured. My overcoming of many medical obstacles.

While I feel blessed and fortunate to be here to see and experience the wonders of my children as they each make their own headway in the world and leave their own marks on the world, it still saddens me that I didn't get the chance to have my mom see all that I can.

So, I guess in a way, I am living life and experiencing these things for the both of us. And I often times wonder what Mom would say, think or do. What would she say about how my life has turned out? What would she say about the man that I married or how I am raising and rearing my children?

Sadly, those are questions that will forever haunt me and be left unanswered. And to this day, it is still hard for me to come to terms with that fact.

I'm Not, I can't

I act happy. But I'm not.

I sound excited. But I'm not.

I say that I'm ready to. But I'm not.

I say that it's indeed time. But for me, it's not.

The tears I try to choke back and hide lay beneath the surface. Like a raging water fall. It feels like the first time all over again. In what seems like the not-too-distant past.

She is growing up. I can't stop it.

She is maturing. I can't stop it.

Before I know it, she will be out in the vast world on her own. Not too many years left. And the years that are bygone, as are the ones to come, have passed or will pass as a thief in the night, all too quickly.

Now, Middle School years are upon us. She is no longer a little girl. Not yet a "young woman", but caught in the middle.

The smile, chuckles and the silly exclamations from me are just a facade. My way of coping with the realities of life as a mother to a girl who is growing rapidly before my eyes.

Inside, I rage. My heart hurts. I wonder if so far I have REALLY given it my all to her, and indeed gave her the tools she will need for the next chapter of her life.

In the end though, I can't let her go. I'm not ready.

And the Gates Opened and God said "Come in My son".

We all knew that this was coming. For the last six months or so. But after losing other family members in the past that you "prepared" for losing, when the time comes, you are NEVER truly "prepared".

Last night we were told to get to Big Papa if we could because Hospice gave him just hours. So Scott and I placed the kids with some friends of ours and rushed over. He was ashen, pale and gray. His breathing was rattly and hard, thanks to the fluid on his lungs. He was sedated and given pain medications for comfort and so he wouldn't fight himself.

We stayed there a good hour or just a bit longer. All the while talking with Scott's Grandma and his Aunt, who was staying the night. As we left, we told Big Papa we loved him and to just rest and that everything was okay.

After leaving to get the kids, two of our nieces (sisters) apparently arrived not long after us. We missed one another by mere minutes.

We left at about 8:10 last night. Scott got the "call" at about 9:05, about ten minutes after we walked in the door for the night.

He died as the oldest niece was brushing his military-style cut hair. That was something ALL the grandkids and great-grandkids did. He paid them a dollar if they did a "good job", which of course they all did. *hehe*

This past Summer was the last TRUE family reunion with EVERYONE together. This year, it will be drastically different. And more morose and somber as we gather with one less person joining in watching the kids catch lizards and snakes in the backyard, eating up a storm and just having a fun time talking and being together.

*Big Papa with my girls, Skyler and Hayley (oldest of the three kids)*

*Big Papa with my son, Bryce and our oldest niece*

I can only imagine the reception Big Papa received as he entered the Pearly Gates. I know his sister and youngest brother were happy to be reunited with their big brother, as I am certain that it was a welcoming experience to see his parents again.

Big Papa was an extremely hard working man in his time, as he was the manager of a strong insurance company. And he served in the military in his youth. When he met his wife of 62 years, she had three children from a previous marriage. One of them being my Father-In-Law, whom he adopted all three after the couple had married. Then along came four other children that they had after that. So needless to say, he left behind many upon many hearts to grieve his passing. Between their seven children multiple grandchildren, and several great-grandkids and even a great-great-grandchild.

I think that the following song is extremely appropriate to say how I feel about a man that gave me a good taste of what life is like with having a Grandfather in your life, seeing as my granddads were dead before I was born. And thanks to Big Papa and his inclusion of me in to his family as "one of my granddaughters", I can never thank him (or Grandma) enough for the last eleven wonderful years of having a great man in my life such as him...Even if he was a Washington Redskins fan. I looked past that atrocity and still loved him anyways. (=

*I apologize, but VEVO just had to put a freaking commercial in this one..which is inappropriate for a song like this in my opinion.*



Go Rest High On That Mountain lyrics
Songwriters: Gill, Vince;

I know your life on earth was troubled
And only you could know the pain
You weren't afraid to face the Devil
You were no stranger to the rain

Go rest high on that mountain
Son your work on earth is done
Go to Heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son

Oh, how we cried the day you left us
We gathered round your grave to grieve
Wish I could see the angels' faces
When they hear your sweet voice sing

So go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to Heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son

So go rest high on that mountain
Son, your work on earth is done
Go to Heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son

Go to Heaven a shoutin'
Love for the Father and the Son

I'm "Pouring My Heart Out" via Shell

With all that is going on lately, I think it's finally time to sit here and indeed...



Between an "extended" winter break this year for the schools, my kids fighting because of 'cabin' fever, my son having problems as of late, I am shocked that I'm not in the Psych Ward having meds fed to me three times a day.

If you want a better picture of what is happening with my son, then I suggest that you READ THIS.

As for the longer winter break, we are this year (and hopefull JUST this year) on the college schedule as to help with the budgeting, heating costs and other "costs".

But the biggest thing on my plate is the fact that my husband's grandfather has taken a turn for the worse and there is indeed no going back. I'd written about him a good while back, when we thought that the end was imminent. Of course, once more, Big Papa fooled us all. And even then, I shared my fears of when it's REALLY time. But this time, it's different.

Now, Big Papa is in the beginning of Kidney Failure. And he has flat out refused Dialysis. So, no amount of fluid intake will reverse it and once one organ starts the shut-down process, it's not long before other major organs follow.

We'd taken Hayley (who's the oldest at eleven, and knows fully of what's going on) with us to see Papa yesterday. She sat there and answered a couple of questions. As soon as he complimented her on how beautiful she's become as a young lady, she got up and left the room as to not let Big Papa see her cry.

After seeing she was right outside the door, I made the excuse that I wanted the guys (Scott and his granddad) to have some time alone. Which was true to an extent, but more to check on my kid.

I feel like I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place at this point. Mainly with Scott and Hayley, who will be most affected by the loss when Big Papa indeed does finally pass.

Scott's had this man in his life for almost 40 years. Hayley's known him for most of her eleven years. And she knows it's not everyday a kid can say I KNOW my GREAT-Grandparents.

I've got a responsibility ahead of me. One I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. One to be there for my kids, who will at different levels be grieving.

And I've got to be there to "hold up" my husband when this all goes down, knowing he will be taking this loss extremely hard. And knowing he is one of the pallbearers is of no consolidation to me, either.

All the while, I'll be having to deal with my own grief. So, knowing myself, I'll do my best (and more than likely succeed) to hold it all together and keep it all internalized until the primary portion of the storm passes by.

I've always been of the mind set that if I fall apart when everyone else is that's around me, then no one will be of use to anyone. It's kind of like "the blind leading the blind" in other words.

So, deep down, I know what's headed for me, for my family, and for the family as a whole when all is said and done. But I'm scared that when push comes to shove, I won't be who or what I need to be when the need arises.

Media Reaction Over Compassion Regarding Grieving Children

As many of my "older" readers know, my mother passed away when I was twelve years old. She was forty-three years young, but suffered some health problems. In the end, the side effects of a massive stroke took her life.

I'd gone almost daily to either the hospital or to the Rehab Center/Nursing Home to sit with her, talk (really loud seeing as the hearing loss was great and due to the stroke). All the while, I KNEW deep within two things.

One, she was never going to come home the same way again.

Two, she wanted to die. And she WAS dying. Slowly and for the most part, painfully.

No child even remotely fathoms the thought of their parents' mortality. Not for a single second. Especially in early and middle childhood. To them, his or her parents are immortal. They are of Superhero status.

When a young child, at an age of understanding experiences the realities of life and death, usually it is not with the loss of a parent. It is difficult for them. But not totally agonizing.

But I ask you to sit where you are, as you are reading this right now, IMAGINE yourself being a child of twelve years of age.

Now, FEEL the emotions within from realizing that your mother or your father has passed away. You are shell shocked and in complete denial, because parents DON'T die.

Once shock wears off, look at your face when you come to realize that what you were told is in fact true. Suddenly, you crumble in to a heap of longing, despair, unimaginable heart ache and an insurmountable amount of grief as you cry out in longing for your mother or your father to come back. That you want them and you need them, as you BEG for what is true to not be.

That was me. In 1989 on October 29th. Sitting in the living room of the home that I had grown up in. As my father told me, "Missy, remember when I said to 'expect the unexpected' a few weeks ago?", I got hot and flushed in my face, knowing but not wanting to hear the next few words that FOREVER changed my life. "It happened early this morning. Your mom is gone."

All I could do, as people from my neighborhood stood there as a means of comfort was stare at my father, shaking my head and pleading for it to not be true. Finally it hit that what he said was not a lie, no matter how many times I verbally fought it with him.

In the days and weeks that had followed, amidst all the condolences and the "I'm sorry for your loss" people, I wanted nothing to really do with the outside world. I was grieving. Longing for someone that I will never see, speak to, or touch again.

It was a time of my wanting to isolate from the world and the people within. For me and also for my dad, our pain, sorrow and grief were of a private nature.

We needed the time together, as well as alone to deal with our thoughts, our feelings and the realities of what had happened to us.

This is why I am personally quite angry, and tired of how the Media hounds and preys upon children of big name politicos and celebrities in the midst of their loss.

Take for instance, Michael Jackson's children. For WEEKS, those children were followed around, having pictures taken of them, having news cameras in their faces. Even at their father's funeral! Those poor kids could not once get away and grieve and mourn their dad in private.

Now sadly, the media hounds have turned their attention towards the children of Elizabeth Edwards, who had lost her battle with Breast Cancer on Tuesday, surrounded in the PRIVACY of her home with her children (ages five and twelve), as well as former Presidential hopeful and former husband John Edwards, and other close family and friends.

It SHOULD HAVE stayed that way. Especially for those children. No one, no matter if it was a friend or not, should NOT have brought those children's grieving to the media's spotlight.

Depending on the type of service that is held for the late Mrs. Edwards, those poor kids will be forced to fall victim to the Media, having cameras and reporters, and magazine and news paper journalists shoved in their faces. Not once being able to privately hurt and long for their mother.

It will not be an easy road for these kids. It's going to be long, hard and painful. Especially since they are still so young.

I can safely say that even though twenty-one years have passed and life has gone on since my mother's death, at times, it is STILL hard to deal with. Her birthday. Holidays like Christmas, especially since having my own children. Mother's Day.

No child should suffer a loss as great as these kids have. But a child should still be allowed to be a child. Especially during the grieving process, which could take years. They shouldn't have to be the Media's 'Top Story' of the day.

Dec. 1st is World AIDS Day

Will you join me? I urge you, if you are on TWITTER, MySpace, or on FaceBook, to RIGHT CLICK, then copy the picture above of the Red Ribbon and use it as your profile picture for today in support of bringing awareness to AIDS and to support in finding a cure.

My cousin Raymond (who I have blogged about before many moons ago) was a victim of HIV/AIDS. He died when I was fourteen years old (almost TWENTY years ago). I was there, along with my grandmother, his mother, and his sister and her husband as Ray drew on his last breaths.

To see him struggle and fight on that last day was beyond heart breaking. As a "child" to be witness to such a horrific scene, it was unimaginable to see death in it's raw form. And in one of it's worst ways. I held his hand and told him it was okay to let go.

He was more than my cousin. He was my "brother". He loved me as if I was almost his. We went places all the time together. Hung out listening to Madonna and Prince. We watched movies.

And I even ate off his fork and took sips from his glass of drink. And I hugged him and kissed him (on the lips) all of the time.

Unlike his own REAL siblings and mother, I did *not* live in fear of his disease...Or of him. So he was "sick" with HIV/AIDS. He was still a human being. And I treated him the same AFTER he became sick, just as I did BEFORE he started showing the signs of full-blown AIDS.

Yes, Raymond was Gay. All out, too. He had the "walk", the "talk", and the "mannerisms" of a truly "Gay" man. That to me, made him even more lovable. Don't ask me why, because to this day, I can't pinpoint the reason.

When he died, it forever left an aching hole within my heart. I didn't lose my cousin. I lost my brother. And for a "technically" only child, that was a loss almost to great for me to bear.

Sadly at the end, I noticed relief in his mother and sister. And for the wrong reasons. It seemed like they were "relieved" to be rid of the "eye sore" of the family. The "problem child" that supposedly brought shame upon their family name. As well as humiliation. And that in its self SICKENED me.

NO ONE should have to "hide" their disease and live in fear of those that are SUPPOSED TO love them UNCONDITIONALLY, no matter HOW the disease was spread to them, be it through unprotected sex, an open wound, or tainted bags of blood from a donation.

I'm a straight, married mother of three beautiful children. I could be in a serious car accident today and require a blood transfusion. And it could POSSIBLY be tainted with the HIV/AIDS infection. Yes, screening has gotten much better since their testing abilities of the 1980's. But science and medicine are NOT perfect and could miss that one bag of blood.

A friend and I could both get cut and they accidentally taint my blood with the infection.

If I contracted AIDS, how would YOU view me? Would I be a Leper? Would you (especially if you don't know me from Eve) ASSUME that I am in a homosexual (Lesbian) relationship?

Or would you extend your hand and your heart to me and my family? Would you shake my hand and hug me? Maybe even playfully take a sip from my glass.

What would you do? After all, those with HIV/AIDS have a right to be treated as human beings, too.

One Year and Counting

Yesterday was filled with a lot of laughter, smiles and fun. But deep down, I knew exactly what the day was all about. Some of it, sad. While, for the most part, good.

I'd spent the entire school day in my youngest daughter's Kindergarten class. We carved real pumpkins in "teams". Then we did a ton of different crafts. Including my 'Jack-O-Lantern Jug' that they have an option to use as a candy collection jug for Trick-Or-Treating.

After trying to think of something to do to commemorate the special meaning of October 29th as being the Transplant Anniversary since having my new Cornea placed in, helping me to once more see, and even be able to keep the whole eye that at this time last year was ravaged with infection to the point is nearly impossible to save it, I think I found my way of honoring my Donor, their family and the significance of the day.

I had fun. I smiled. I played with the wonderful children I help every week in the classroom. I even danced with the kids at the Halloween Dance that was put on for them after school. I lived life as I always have. As a survivor of the hurdles I have had to face, and as the mother I was before my sight in the left eye was robbed, thanks to infection and an accident.

As I sit here and think back about the past week, I honestly cannot think of a better way to thank and honor such a gift, or the Donor that gave of themselves. To live my life. Be happy. To be the mother that I was meant to be to my children. To be the wife I have striven to be for my husband for the past eight years of our marriage. To be the friend that I have always been or have to tried to have been to others.

My donor gave me what was robbed of me in a matter of seconds. Even though apparently, the damage was already severely done over the prior months before. But it took just one accidental poke with my own knuckle to complete what the infection set out to do. To take away my sight completely from my left eye.

Almost a month later, my Donor gave me their cornea, thanks to their loving gift at the end of their life, and to sheer luck that one was readily available to fit my needs.

At first, it killed me inside to know that I had to have someone die to let me live my life as I have always known. I had "Survivor's Guilt". Especially when Thanksgiving and Christmas came around. I knew that as I sat down to dinner and opening gifts, another family was sitting around grieving and wishing that their loved one was still here to enjoy life and the holidays with.

Now that the year has come along, and I am pretty much back to normal like before all of this had happened, I no longer try to think about things in a "sad way". I know deep within my heart, my Donor is happy with my getting back on with life and enjoying being a wife and a mother.

They gave me my life back. And for that, I will FOREVER be grateful. To them, and to their family. And I have realized, at least for me personally, the best way to honor them, not just on October 29th, but EVERY single day of the year, is to just live my life to the fullest capacity, smile as much as I can, and know that THEY TO know just how thankful that I am of the gift that they bravely and heroically gave to me.

9/11/2001...We remember. In songs and pictures.

Like Pearl Harbor, September 11, 2001, also known as 9/11, has gone down in infamy.

Feel free to watch the following videos. I have no words, really for today, being that I had said all that I could the other day ABOUT 9-11.

I'm asking you, my readers, that if you wish to comment on this post, that you DO NOT make comments or start debates in regards to *politics*, *conspiracy theories*, or make any *anti-religion* (namely Islam/Muslim) remarks.

Thank you for respecting my blog, this post, and this day's meaning by refraining from the above.

"Where Were You On That September Day?"

If you recognize that line that I used for the title of this post, then you know which song it is from and what it symbolizes. September 11, 2001 will remain in many a heart and memory for generations to come.

Not for it's year in music or the Emmy that Television shows had won. Or the hot Summer Flicks that Hollywood spun out that year.

It will be remembered as one of the most prolific tragedies of our time. Of our generation, and of the Twentieth Century. September 11th is forever known as '9-11'.

That was the day that it did indeed seem that the world had stopped turning. Millions in America, and billions around the world had frozen in place as they had witnessed first hand, or had seen the first taped images of the root cause of the first Trade Center Tower being on fire, seeing as the second plane crashed in to the other tower as the first was being filmed on live TV, as it was on fire and had people JUMPING OFF the building, as to escape being burned alive.

Do you remember what you were doing at that moment in time? Be it in pieces, or in minute detail. I certainly do. All the way down to calling my husband at work, and listening to his description of how the customers and his co-workers reacted to the news.

When the news started breaking, they had said in past-tense that a plane hit the WTC Tower. As Diane Sawyer and Charlie Gibson from Good Morning America (back in those days) were trying to get more on the story, thinking a bomb (not a plane) had gone off, right behind them, on the back screen, in a live shot, the other plane came in at what seemed to be an odd angle.

Suddenly, as I sat there, engrossed and waiting for a more defined answer to what happened, the answer became horrifically known to me and millions of others in the nation as to what REALLY happened.

Sitting there, holding Bryce in my arms (he was three months old then, and Hayley was at school for her (then) developmental delays), I watched as the other plane hit and just blew up before my very eyes.

Suddenly, I began to cry and I notably held Bryce a little tighter as he sat upon my lap, oblivious to what was unfolding before him. Then the thought swept in to my mind, and I could hear myself say "What kind of world have I truly brought my children in to? Is this what they have to look forward to in their future? What did we as a nation do, to deserve this kind of terroristic-type act (not knowing yet that it INDEED WAS a terrorist attack upon out nation)?".

I'd sat there, frozen and silent. It wasn't until I came out of the 'trance' that I realized that I just witnessed a plane full of people, and people within that tower being murdered. The shock to see what I had, left me dazed.

After I got myself together, I called my husband at work (then, we didn't have cells, so I had to call the store) and I asked if they had heard. He'd said yes, as did all of the customers and fellow employees, being that they announced it, and then had a moment of silence...Customers left in droves to get home, or were on frantic calls right in the aisles, Scott said, making sure their loved ones in NY and that were to be on flights that morning were okay.

Just think, one week prior, I was flying home from Reno, Nevada, after a week's stay due to my grandmother (Nana, who's ashes I wrote about finally getting) had passed away. Even then, on the flight home, something seemed...'off'. But I could never place what it was. I just felt very uneasy. And I had never felt that way before when it came to flying.

Maybe I was sensing the tragedy that was about to unfold. But I just didn't "get it". The entire trip home felt 'weird'. Who knows.

Maybe there were a couple of those terrorists on board with me, getting "practice flights" or going to their final destination via my route to go home. This I will never, ever know for sure. All I know is that I knew that there was something big coming. I could feel it. But I couldn't pinpoint what it was. That feeling stayed with me...

All the way home on my flight upon American Airlines.

*The following has real footage from news tapes included in to this song's video.*

May we never forget.

Letting Go...Not That Easy (get out the tissues)

Over at FaceBook, I do this one application called "On This Day,God Wants You To Know". While I am a Christian, I am not very devout. I believe, and I do read the Bible. I pray for others as needed and felt led to.

With these "messages" from God, it gives you these little encouraging tidbits on how to improve your life, or of someone around you, and lets you know that you aren't alone.

Today's read for me as follows...

"On this day, God wants you to know... that it's time you let go. Yes, of course, you want to control so everything happens in just the way you want it. But at the end of the day, we control nothing, - it's all in God's hands, - has always been, and will always be. So, do what you can, and then let go, and let God handle the rest."

Above this, I had stated in the status area... (my words)

"It's not so much for me, but someone else that this is going to be hard to do. A lifetime can't be let go of that easily. Although, I DID get a lifetime of what I lacked in just one decade. For that I'm forever grateful."

You see, I had grown up since infancy with only my two grandmothers. Both of my grandfathers were dead. One passed a year or around there before my birth. The other died in Germany, during World War II when MY dad was only six months old.

The only 'grandfather' I had was my Great-Grandfather. But he passed away when I was six years old. And I don't have much memory of him or our time together, sadly.

For years and years, I often wondered what having a grandfather in my life would be like. I wondered what my grandfathers would have done with me activity-wise. Fishing, walks, talks about yesteryear. Even throwing a ball around would have been nice (being I was a tomboy).

After Scott and I had gotten together, I started meeting his folks. Good, southern, country-hospitality type of people. Love of family, country and God. Then one day, it was time for my first experience meeting the WHOLE side of Scott's dad's kin. WOW!! Think about this, his grandparents, their SEVEN kids, and THEIR other halves. Then add in all of THEIR kids. And even some more kids after that. LOTS of people.

Almost instantaneously, his grandparents took me under their wing and called me "just another of their grandkids". I have since then had a surprising and unexpectedly unique place in my heart for those two. Especially Scott's grandfather. He is a man of a few words. He has hands of steel. But also full of love. Even now, in his frailty. He has ALWAYS been good and kind to my oldest child and daughter, Hayley, who is from my first marriage. He (as well as Scott's grandma and the rest of the crew) treats her like she has ALWAYS been a Cowart. Nothing less.

For him and his family to take my daughter and I in to their hearts as they have, I will ALWAYS be grateful, thankful and filled with pride.

This past Saturday, we had the annual family picnic/reunion. This year though, everyone (except an aunt, Scott and a nephew, due to work schedule conflicts mainly) was there. It was great to see. Everyone was smiling, laughing, reminiscing, and just sharing of themselves.

This is also most likely the last one with the patriarch of the family. Big Papa (Scott's grandfather) has been steadily declining over the last year. At this time last year, he was hospitalized, and we thought he was not going to make it. He did. And they gave him six more months to live...Just over six months ago.

We all know that the inevitable is coming. It's no longer a matter of if, but of when. And with only ten percent of Big Papa's heart working, we know that time is most certainly precious for each day that we all still have him in our lives.

I've suffered some of the worst loss imaginable as a child. I lost my mother when I was twelve years old. Scott has lost a couple of uncles that I know of, and his Maternal Grandparents (one before birth and one at eight years old).

Losing a cousin or an aunt or uncle is one thing. But to lose a parent at a young age is just in a way fatefully cruel. Losing a grandparent so far in to adulthood yourself, can deal a huge blow to your heart.

Scott's going to take this hard. He is quite close with Big Papa and Big Grandma. It will really be his first major loss that he will understand. And it's already killing both of us inside.

I was actually not going to go. I had my reasons. But then I changed my mind. Now, I am glad I did. And I even got a few pictures of the kids with their great-grandparents.

After getting home and staring at the one of the girls with Big Papa, Skyler sitting on his lap, and him looking SO happy, it hit me. This was quite possibly THE last time I myself will see him alive, being I don't get to personally see them that much. Nor do the kids.

Thanks to that man, he gave me in ten years, what I yearned for, for practically my entire life. To know what it's like to have a grandfather in your life. And I was fortunate enough to receive this BEAUTIFUL gift from him.

It's going to be hard for me when his journey here is over. But I know it will be much, MUCH harder for Scott. And I can only hope and pray now, that when the time comes, I will be the rock he needs me to be. To be the comfort he needs. To have the right words when he asks "why" and "how".

Yes, we all must let go. Of past hurts, of anger and of sadness. But at times, knowing you must let go makes you want to hold on even tighter due to the fear of the loss. Letting go of those that are most important in your life in ANY means can be difficult. But there are those very special someone's that it seems IMPOSSIBLE that you have to let them go.

And Big Papa is going to be one of them.

My First Time.

Some say, when you have your first time, it can be really scary. You don't know what to expect, how to act or react. Or even what to feel at that very moment in time.

There are many firsts in our lives. First boyfriend or girlfriend. First dates and kisses. First time having sex. And then there is another first. One that thousands in the United States, and millions world wide get to have. Believe me, it is a first that no one wants to experience.

The loss of someone that for some people, they don't really even know on a "personal" level. But the shock, hurt, fear, and pain is still the same. Because in my exclusive club, when one hurts, we all hurt. When one rejoices, we all rejoice.

Sadly, there is no rejoicing for us in the Transplant Community in our Facebook tight-knit group, TEC. For one of our own is watching his wife dying before his very eyes. And there is NOTHING now that can be done for her.

She was in the process of testing to receive a Liver Transplant. She was even transferred to another hospital to start rehabilitation. But no sooner they got her there, she had to go back to her regular hospital and be placed in ICU. Sadly, she is now in Liver and Renal Failure. Her Kidneys have also basically shut down. Now, this vibrant, "young" woman is on full life support and around-the-clock dialysis.

Her family is coming in to say their good-bye's and at this point she is comfortable. By Monday, she will be taken off of life support and let nature take it's course, unless her heart stops before then.

This is a first for me. It is a stark, let alone grim reality of being in the Transplant World. None of us, be it Live Donors, Donor Families, or Recipients, I think honestly "get it" until something like this happens. We are in a "La La Land" of sorts. We all know that some get the call and are lucky. Some sadly don't. But until it REALLY "hits home" and happens to one of your own (so to speak), you can't honestly get a grasp on the severity of the realities of being in this (be it unwanted) exclusive club, where ALL ages are welcome, nor are they turned away. Transplantation has no age limits. Nor does Organ Failure.

Today, I await word on a friend's wife. He held out so much hope, gave her SO much love and devotion and was there for her from beginning to end, never wavering. He was giving positivity and hope to fellow new caregivers, even as he has had been getting his own heart shattering through seeing that there was nothing he could do but support and be there for the love of his life. And he is at this moment, by her side. Showing her his undying love, giving all the support he can as her soul-mate and just waiting for the end to sadly come.

We, his friends, have been loving them, supporting them and have hoped for the best. But sadly, the best came too late in the game. And for one woman, her journey through the Transplant Experience is almost over. Help was coming too late.

This "first" is something I will carry with me for years to come. And it's a "first" I knew would come along in my life. I just didn't think I would be blind sided with it this soon after becoming a Recipient myself. But I thank it for coming like it did. Why? Because now I can see the TRUE realities of the Transplant Community/World. It's not all a bed of sunshine, puppies and rainbows.

There is also darkness, heart break, sadness and death. In  this "club", lives are at stake. We have to depend on another person, be it that they are alive or have died, to keep US alive, seeing and going on with our own lives. And to be here for our loved ones. That's a hard pill to have to swallow.

Some one had to DIE to give me my sight back. Some people depended on someone's death to be their second chance for a new heart or a new set of lungs. It's not easy knowing this fact. In some ways, some of us (myself included) felt like we "took" or "stolen" from our donors, in a selfish manner. But that is NOT the case.

Our donors gave of themselves to help those that are in need of a second chance at living their lives and being with their loved ones. Without them, we either would not be able to see, walk or even be alive ourselves.

There is so much more of a Demand, than there is a Supply for people in need of a Transplant. Be it a heart, a kidney, lungs, cornea, skin, and many other organs, tissues and even blood. Please, if you have yet to do so, SIGN UP to be an Organ/Eye/Tissue Donor. Be a HERO and pay it forward. You never know when YOU may depend on someone else for a second chance for the Gift of Life.

Devotional Sunday (Change from Testimony Sunday)

Isaiah 35:10
and the ransomed of the LORD will return. They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away.
Isaiah 35:9-10 (in Context) Isaiah 35


Every one of us here on earth will suffer sorrow. But all of us will experience the great joy that life also has to offer.


Believe me when I say that I have had more than my fair share of sorrow. From the time that I was born in fact. And when you tally them all up that I have collected thus far, many may wonder how I am able to see the positivity in anything.


Even though a time or two, I had lost my faith in God, He never once lost His faith on me. Even when I turned a blind eye to Him.


In the end, after walking through all of the Valleys that I have traveled, I have reached the Mountain Top. Sure, I will be pushed back down in to the Valley again a few more times before my life's journey here is over. 


But I know that once I walk through the Valley, that the Mountain Top is there waiting for my return.

Testimony Sunday (1 Peter 1:6-7...Grief, Loss & Suffering)

<sup>This week's verse...

6</sup>In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. ⁷These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.

I know of this passage quite well within my life. Within my thirty-three years on this earth, I have already lost my Maternal Grandparents, never knew my Grandfather's (but have 'felt them' near), my Mother, my Paternal Grandmother and two pregnancies, and my Paternal Great-Grandfather.


With the exception of my Grandfathers, my Maternal Grandmother (too young) and my Great-Grandfather (again, too young to understand), my Christian faith was rocked to the core from these losses. Especially the loss of my mother and my last miscarriage in 2003.


For years after my mom's passing I despised God, His love, and anything else to do with Him. I wanted nothing of Christ. He had nothing to offer me. Except pain, grief and internal agony within my spirit and my heart.


The Lord made me suffer within some very deep Valleys. I saw the Mountain tops. Every time I would get halfway back up that Mountain, it seemed that the Lord would push me off a cliff, back down to the Valley floor.


It took a few years worth of soul searching, internal 'tug-of-wars' and finally seeing God's Truths behind Satan's snares and lies that the demon fed me. 


You know the kinds..."If God really loved you, He would not have taken all those people away. Especially you mother and baby". "God is punishing you for being a bratty child, so he took your mother for all the lies you told her". Those are just a couple of the thoughts that I had...The 'gem' of them all came when I lost my second pregnancy. "The Lord has taken away your child because you are not worthy of His love. An eye for an eye. You rejected Him, now He has given the ultimate punishment....Your child for His".


It took much prayer, much Scripture reading and much one-on-one with my Heavenly Father to finally realize that none of the above was true.


What is true now, as it was back then is that He will test you. He will put you through "trials by fire" and He knows that you indeed will suffer. Loss, grief, anger due to the loss, and walk through some pretty deep Valleys in order to climb to the top of that Mountain.


But never once will He forsake you. He is with you every step. Even when it seems that you are alone. Jesus Christ is there. And in the end, when your grief and suffering are over, He will be there waiting to take you in His arms and let you know that He never leaves His children to ever fully fend for themselves. And that the Mountain Top is always attainable for all.