In that hospital bed, the question of whether I would do anything for my kids was real.
In that hospital bed, the question of whether I would do anything for my kids was real.
We walked into the crowded and cramped waiting area. That’s when my son had a meltdown.
His eyes turn red, you lean in to check him, and he sneezes in your face.
It’s easy to be so fixated on one specific victory that we miss all the other ones happening around us.
I was there yesterday. I will be there tomorrow.
I had to force myself to see the worst of him, even though I usually can only see the best.
As soon as we opened the door, she became the most fragile thing in our home.
When you truly accept anything as a possibility then everything is perfect.
The best I can do is come storming back down the hallway mumbling about, “Freakin’ socks and this house.”
This wasn’t home and no other parents were doing it. That’s what makes it “embarrassing.”
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