Any time I have a period of silence on the blog, you can guess I'm in a period of "stretching" in some form. It's been a weird few months. We've had great highs and great lows. Over the past year, we watched 9 heart buddies pass away, all under the age of six. But we've also seen great victories, and in between all of that, had many moments of normalcy for our own warrior.

In 2022, we moved into our new home, had a successful third open heart surgery, had two cancer scares, and more. A lot more. We are through it all, but pieces of me are left in all of those places, and adjusting to that takes time.

I've been spending a lot of time working on different projects outside of the nonprofit/blog/social media world, and doing a lot of just free writing about what has taken place in my life over the last 5 years, which has been very therapeutic (and at times, triggering). I've been also pouring myself into developing healthy new rhythms at home now that we are finally in a permanent place, physically (Lord willing). We are in a new chapter with our family, one that we've talked about for years. Sunley is post-Fontan, and our youngest is no longer a baby. We are out of the baby years, and simultaneously out of the planned intervention years for Sunley. This means we have no planned interventions for her, which is wonderful, but it also takes away that secure feeling of having a next step.

Before this phase, I spent no time thinking about what it would feel like to have the Fontan behind us, and it has brought very complicated emotions. I am completely different than I was when all of this started, and that brings complicated emotions. I am out of the baby years after a decade of either having a baby or being pregnant, and that brings complicated emotions. Ah, life.

Sunley's health is good, with an asterisk of course. She does have chronic leg pain, and random pains in her head and back, but she is living a very good life, as are her three siblings. We all carry our scars from our experiences, and the six of us handle those scars differently, but we are whole and together. Sunley doesn't have a check up until the end of June, which is a long time for her to go in between appointments. It is good for all of us to be away from the hospital life, of course, but it's actually quite hard too. I often feel like I have one foot there and one foot here.

All this to say, life is still moving. I continually fight the distractions and pace of life to have quiet moments with my Jesus. Sometimes He and I go back to scary places, together. But mostly, He helps me move forward. Someday, maybe I'll have both feet here.

In the midst of all of this – heaviness, happiness, and everything in between – I am still, at the end of the day, a homeschooling mom of four who had to do all the repetitive and mundane tasks that are neither exciting nor fulfilling. We have finally gotten in good morning routine, and all of my kids do their chores without help! What a gift. I am constantly having to remind myself that taking the time to teach them to do housekeeping tasks (instead of doing them quickly and correctly myself) will actually pay off in the end. For example, a couple weeks ago I felt like I'd spent all day repeating my instructions over and over and over BUT that evening I stopped and said to myself, "They did more cleaning than I did today." Talk about a light at the end of the tunnel. I may not love the way Rugers room looks after he "cleans" it, but I didn't have to do it. And even though right now, it would be much easier to just do all the tasks myself, I have learned from older mothers that I'll be thanking myself in 5 years, when the household tasks are split between six people.

The amount of “oil” that is required to put into four children is overwhelming, and I often feel like I’m pouring from a mostly-empty jar, but God has a history of making sure those lightweight jars never run out, and He does it in incredibly thoughtful ways. This morning, I did a random Starbucks run and noticed that the car in front of me had a Donate Life license plate. Today is national sign-up-to-be-an-organ-donor day (surely there’s a smoother name for that, but it escapes me), so I decided to pay for her coffee. The driver was about my age, and I thought it would be a nice gesture on a special day. I asked the barista to tell her that I have a child who may need a heart transplant someday. When I got to the window, the barista told me, “Well actually, I’m paying for y’all’s coffees today, because we need more people like the two of you. She said that her son died and donated his organs, saving 5 people. So I’ll be thinking of both of your kids all day.” What I thought would be a nice gesture on organ donor day, turned into a much needed boost for both her and me. Of course, medical moms are forever connected, but so are all of you who support us, follow our stories, and do what you can to make us feel seen —just like the barista did for us today.

As mentioned in the beginning, I’ve been in a bit of a funk. But I have learned to let “the funk” have the time it needs to stretch and grow my spirit. This is how God cares for me — not always by immediately changing my heart or by healing what’s sick, but by sending me connections through other souls He has created. We are here to serve each other when we can’t fix things — and I have been greatly served.