What defines me?

Cancer , A Dozen Kids , Life, Struggle

I am utterly filled with fear and worry. Let’s face it you can’t escape seeing it in your face everywhere you turn. No one is talking about much else. Times are hard and confusing for sure. The information is changing all the time and depending on your source it’s completely different from one to another right?

So here is me right smack in the middle of trying to find the right meds combo for my mental illness. Now a crisis bigger than any I have ever imagined here on our doorstep. Large families with restrictions on how many pasta they can buy at the store. The limit often being less than what one meal would be for their family. Of course I’m completely panicked. Deeply did I suffer with hoarding food issues and now the entire world is hoarding food.

It’s like having my faults intensified and right in my face. I pace my kitchen more times than I can count. Trying to do the math of how many meals I can make. How can I stretch this further. The cabinets are fully packed. Fridge too my worry never eases with that now. Each day the worry increases. Going to bed searching for information on what may close next. Waking searching to see new information.

I try to find peace in knowing I am much more prepared than most. Reality is though we consume much more than most being a large family. There is no school, the stores have very little and the lines are long. Coming into contact with so many if I wanted to attempt to put more stock in the house. Is that worth it. Which worry is greater getting it from contact with others or not going to the store and staying stockpiled with what our family will need?

Staying positive is difficult. To combat the fear I have spent time finding little solutions to keep me feeling ahead of the game. Things that reduce my anxiety just slightly. But it’s in the back of my mind if I were to pass who would my kids have? What would happen to them? Where would they go? How would life be for them being split up? Staying away as much as possible is my only solution. Making sure to keep us in a bubble and safe is the best way to prevent the worst case.

What are you doing to reduce your stress during these times? Are you still employed? Are your children home from school and cooped up with you?

Isn’t it funny how much a memory can be different depending on who tells the story. Our perceptions of the same even are so different. I wish I were typing to say someone recollection of a memory doesn’t have a hold on me. Longing to post about how I have moved on from those holds my past still has on me.

This week a memory was shared of a run my mom had done on her own. My mom had asked me to be there for her before I got myself wrapped up into trouble. ( Trouble I might add I hands down didn’t do!) My mother would be running a marathon in Little Rock. I vowed to take my preteen daughter and be there to cheer her on. Problem was I got into that trouble. I was on probation now… Unable to leave the state.

I had a good job. Tons of hours. Just got new place. Left the douchebags that had got me into the trouble. On probation but I had cut a deal I had 3 months left just don’t get in trouble and I would have everything wiped from my record. Clean slate. Even had all the fines and court cost paid off completely. With 7 kids can you imagine how hard that had been to do in 3 months time. But I had. Proud of myself was an understatement. The court case had a no contact order keeping all the douches away. It was my time to shine. But….. My mom needed me. She just needed me. She didn’t have her husband. My brother, I love him but even going he would not support her how she needed I knew that. After all I had done this before and knew what she would need.

So here it is. Decision time. Do you break probation and be there for you mom? Make sure she doesn’t lose any money by you backing out? Or stay safe and get yourself out of trouble? Keep climbing that mountain you have been heading up?

Of course I chose her. I wish I had thought of my wedding day when I just knew she would come and I paced the window praying my mother would be there…. Never was she to arrive. Had the memory of being homeless and her knowing and leaving me there to riot in the sexual abuse that was happening entered my head would I have stayed and not been there for her? If I had thought to the time where the police were at the windows and doors me alone for the third day at 12 years old hiding under her bed praying not to get caught would my choice have been different? No. It wouldn’t.

The car ride to the marathon my mom was to run and me support. She yelled and punched herself in the face and head. She got angry many many times. Money was a constant worry for her on the trip and it really didn’t matter how much I paid for nothing eased that tension. My daughter cried asking what was wrong with nana. She heard her cursing for what was probably one of the first times in her life.

I can’t remember any enjoyment from the trip. My little brother never showed to the race. Was late to even get there for us to leave. I’m sure you can imagine the reaction from my mom….. I got back pulling into the driveway of my home. From this nightmare trip to be arrested. Two more nights in jail and $900 more in fines because I chose to be there. The record now still there that would have been wiped had I chose to not be at her side. The record keeps me from gaining employment often.

Seeing her share this memory asking my child if she remembers. I wonder does she remember? Cause it’s the trip her granddaughter saw her in a different light. It’s the one that she seen a glimpse into just a tiny bit of what childhood was for me. I remember her asking me if nana was crazy…. The pain that trip put on me and even my little girl and yet my mom shares it as though it’s a fond memory for her.

She does the same with the wedding picture that I told her my grandfather was putting his hands into my panties. I wish I could erase every memory from my brain. It makes me sick when my pain is shared as their fondest moments. It’s crazy how perception is different on the same events.

 

This past weekend we found ourselves at the Clay High School. They have an indoor fly in there. Inside the gym as you walk in the very first thing that will catch your eye is the Horizon Hobbies table that always sits with some neat plane! This time they did a raffle. Of course I was all over that. I had my eye on the eflite delta ray one that was sitting there just ready for me to win! I even bought a extra five tickets last minute because my gut just said do it! Guess what?! Those tickets sure did have the winning raffle number! There I was running across the gym in my snap on socks happy as a clam to claim my prize!

I simply can’t wait for the batteries to come in and get it binded and up in the air. I had a fabulous time at the fly in watching everyone with their new planes and some with their tried and true planes.

My eflite is a trainer so I can learn some cool skills without such a high risk of wrecking it! It’s the peace of mind every mom wants while teaching their little ones to fly to I am sure. img_5646img_5643_std.original-1img_5643_std.originalimg_5645_hd.original-3img_5642_dvd.originalimg_5645_hd.original-2img_5645_hd.original-1img_5645_hd.originalimg_5642_std.original

I hadn’t ever given much thought to myself living in survival mode. Oddly I thought that was something I recognized as I had seen in it so many that were in my life. It wasn’t until yesterday sitting in the doctor’s office for my son for hours that it hit me that was how I lived life for most of my life. I went to the bathroom and I was sitting on the toilet in the doctor office bathroom and I had a flashback. A flashback to the time where I would carry in the diaper bag to the bathroom’s at the doctor and put the extra toilet paper from the back of the toilet into it. Times were hard. I would look at the toilet paper and think if I take that I can afford extra bread this week.

I took a moment to let the tears fall down my face while sitting on the toilet. Realizing in that moment my entire life had been in survival mode. My budget has been in my head since I was 10. Whatever I had to do to survive I did. Never have I felt I could shake that. My mind has always went to this place where I am trying to figure out my next back up plan for life.

Think about how many times I moved as a child. How many “families” I had. Always waiting for that home to crash. For them to decide they didn’t want me. Couldn’t afford me. ( that was the biggest excuse anyone would say out loud) Stealing food was common because I would think who knows when it’s available next. Course that would lead me to not being welcome and then I’d being moving once again. I remember at 15 years old having 8 hash-browns and a plastic container of hard ass bacon bits. No time frame to when my “dad” would return and it had already been days. No money not even pennies. No store within 20 miles. Stretchy and talking myself threw how much I could eat each day. Then right after when he did return he gave me $20 and a bag of clothes and sent me onto the streets. There isn’t a time I can’t think of that survival wasn’t my life.

Now all these years later and it’s still just very set in me. Living as though I need to survive. Thinking any day he won’t love me. I’ll be cast out and back to nothing. Or any day someone will tell me that this life isn’t mine anymore. I think of worst case non stop. Not once can I just breath and look at all I have gained and accomplished. It feels to good to be true. There is no way I deserve this.

Seeing your faults is half the battle right? For now I still walk through every parking lot scanning the ground for change. Hoarding food all over the house in case I can’t afford groceries the next week. Checking my account 20 times a day to makes sure nothing billed I forgotten. Staring at the budget for hours and hours. I can’t even for a moment check out of that mode. The desire to is there I just lack the knowledge of how. To just ease up for a moment and revel in all I have become. My goal is to switch from this survival mode and enjoy life more.

My Fozzy Subaru

Recently I stopped all contact with my blood family. Well the majority of them anyway. That prompted all the nasty comments from them about how I am trying to replace them. Or how much they were there for me. For a year now those comments have been haunting me. I wanted to shout are you CRAZY! I said nothing in response. Instead I fell back and got quiet. Silent even.

I wanted to remind them at I was the child living in the streets. A child, not an adult, a child. I deeply remember being so alone. I remember horrendous amounts of sexual abuse as a CHILD….. I wanted to tell every family member that I was their biggest failure. I didn’t say anything out loud though. For months I’ve been driving in the car having moments where my thoughts drift to want words I so desired to say to them all.

Wondering often now what if I told it all. What if I wrote to each of them and just said this is what you didn’t protect me from? What if I reminded them of that wedding day that I spoke up! The day I said please stop standing me there he is touching me….. Would they then turn to themselves and think what have we done? Would they then want forgiveness from me?

Truthfully I thought that my sins earned me all those secrets. The punishments were mine to endure. I was a bad child after all. The time I spent trying to right my wrongs. The things I swallowed deep down so that the scars didn’t stain the family. I wonder if they heard it all out loud if they were feel the sorrow I do in my gut?

Why on earth would I ever want to replace those people. Truly those who called me family are those who caused me the most pain so replacing that gosh… I wanted to destroy it. What I had during my lifetime wasn’t family. I didn’t even gain a family until I was 33 years old. The jealous terms in those comments of how I was replacing them made me sick. Never would I want to replace such evil.

Evil is a strong word to reference your own blood right… Your probably sitting there thinking this girl is holding on to so much anger. I’m just not. I was for a long long time. Now I just wish that I could erase it all. That I could come to peace with moving on. Thinking that I deserve to move on is truly difficult. My mind tells me that blood matters. Meanwhile my heart reminds me that I never did to them… Not just as the adult that did nothing right but as a child I was unworthy of their love.

Every I am sorry card that comes in my mailbox just reminds me that they really don’t have any knowledge to why they are saying it. They simply say the words they think I want to hear. It’s not an apology for letting me down. Not for not loving me…. It’s not for allowing me to go through so much fucking pain as a child. It’s because there is no punching bag left. No one to tell the secrets too… Because after all if you told them to anyone else you’d lose everything. They had already proven me a liar so telling me meant no harm no one would listen right?

I spoke up. No one listened.

The sorry’s and the it’s your fault come back to back. The Christmas before last I thought maybe the distance will make things tolerable. But my poor children are the target now. I had 8 unwanted children in their minds. Abortion rang out of their mouths more times than I can count. My blood family never wanted a one. They spent their lives showing that too. With the trips to Florida and the extravagant gifts to everyone meanwhile my kids get a tote or yard sale and donation items. Things left behind and discarded were picked up and washed and given to my kids. Not things that were special or individualized but just a bunch of junk thrown together to appear they were thought of. I would sit and watch my kids still be grateful for the garbage while everyone else in the room got exactly what they wanted. No names could be exchanged since the numbers were so great. No plan could be implemented to make things fair. I mean why would they do such a thing? I had the unwanted children not them! So we would sit and feel sad. So this Christmas before last I finally take a stand. The fear of them saying I was greedy finally pushed down far enough for me to say no we won’t be at Christmas it’s not fair. It makes my kids feel so badly. Crammed in a room alone. Forced to hurry and eat and not take too much because the “real” family was late and hadn’t eaten yet. I had let my kids endure that long enough. So I spoke up again! I told my so called mother this wouldn’t happen any longer.

Should have known better than to trust in her words saying that it would be different if I tried one more time….. But I am forgiving to a fault and I loaded my kids up made a special arrangement. Sitting on the floor hearing my grandparents list everything they had given to everyone else while telling my kids they get nothing…. Literally no reason to tell my kids of what they did for everyone but them but that’s exactly what happened. Nothing felt fair…. kids with gifts they hated and then ones with behavior issues loaded up with worst possible gift. The grandparents empty handed which again would have been fine but they still insisted to make the kids feel so low to express it was just them they didn’t get for. Everyone else was deserving.

So I decided that day this was it. No longer would blood dictate anything. This wasn’t my family. Family loves and lifts you up. They care and are there for your time of need. They want to bring a smile and not intentional tears. I decided these ppl weren’t that for me. Never had they been. Guilt did make them be there from time to time. I was paid off to keep those deep dark molestation secrets. Or the secrets of the transgressions….. Never was I in a family. Family doesn’t do what was done to me and my children.

The what if isn’t really a question. Truth is I had the answer….. I did tell. I did speak up and they failed me. I was damaged and wreckless I made piss poor choices as a parent because I was never shown how to be a mom. Then I grew and I continued to grow…. Now I have figured out what family is. Your right I have a fabulous family. But your wrong that I replaced one… As I never had one in the first place.

Therapy brings up so much of the dark. It shows me now that it wasn’t my fault. No child deserves to be homeless. To be touched by dirty men that share their blood. No child deserves to feel alone. No child deserves to be hungry! No child deserves to stress their way to school or sit alone in a gas station praying for a way to school! No child deserves to lose their virginity to a random bf of their mother’s. No child deserves to be hit EVER! No child deserves to feel unloved. Protecting my children is my job and your the biggest threat. Forever will I work on forgetting everyone who hurt me. Forever will I work on being a better me and a better mom. Never will I allow any “blood” family to hurt me. I created the family I always deserved.

Hey guys, sorry my post are so few and far between. I got really wrapped up in life. I have really taken couponing to this incredible extreme! No stock pile here though. I am a donating fool. Partnered behind the scenes with many groups right now giving all sorts of goodies to pass on to those in need. It’s like a whole full time job in itself.

Well my princess went in for round two of her hip surgeries. Just two short days after Christmas we were waking to an alarm at 3:00 to pack up and head to the hospital an hour and fifteen mins away from our home. This time Marc had taken off work in advance because we predicted snow and I am not able to drive in that stuff.

The night before. I didn’t sleep. My mind just raced with all the what if’s. I worried again of insurance issues that I wouldn’t understand upon arrival. I worried of the surgery. I worried of her being put to sleep. I worried that before I could get into the room with her a nurse would make some huge mistake and truly hurt my child. My mind didn’t have the ability to stop. I stretched my fingertips to put them on Marc for his heart beat so many times that night to try to calm myself. All those techniques I have been learning to help deal with my anxiety never work once I am full blown panicked.

I remember thinking just let yourself forget for a moment. Maybe pretend it’s a different day. You need to be alert at the hospital to protect your daughter. The last hospital experience being so unpleasant for her I just knew I needed to be awake and know what is going on. I didn’t ever get it to shut off. The drive up to the hospital intensified everything for me.

I kept trying to remember the details. That I knew I could focus on. I would repeat that I didn’t have to worry about a bone graph call because I knew she would get the graph and she did last time and it was good for her to have. I kept thinking that I could expect the screen to change at these times. The time it had the last surgery. I had a note section in my phone showing the exact time it had changed colors and I got the calls during the last surgery. I just kept staying focused.

If I got to her room then I was that much closer to being with her. I wanted to be there waiting so when she pulled in she saw me. I knew everyone else would be more comfortable in waiting area but me. I just needed to get to her room and see her. When Clare pulled up in pain my stomach right then dropped. I expected, I knew but still that look on my smiley little girl just completely made me sick. I felt like I had not taken good enough care of myself pregnant. I thought of walking to work everyday 2 miles while pregnant with her. I thought of every time I allowed some loser to smoke a cigarette near me pregnant. The days of my pregnancy with Clare were some of my toughest ever! Seeing her in the bed in pain my head just filled with all the things I did to create where she was.

After all my child was there from being a preemie. I didn’t take care of the oven she was in to make sure she cooked long enough. That was where my mind went. I couldn’t look to anyone in the room and say help. Help save me from these thoughts. I’m drowning in them. The grew into some gnarly tears those thoughts as the days went by. The nights alone in the hospital while Clare slept. I cried for hours and hours. I replayed it all. Every horrendous thing that happened that 26 weeks she was in my tummy.

Every time a nurse came in I jumped right out of my skin. I worried that they were giving wrong meds. Here I was again asking what can go with what. I was tracking when she got what. One nurse would say her blood pressure was an issue. My complete panic would set in while waiting for another nurse to re-evaluate and then tell me there was no issue. The careless team at the hospital caring for Clare between the doctor rounds bumped her so many times I lost count. Once again I felt like I was on pins and needles and unable to settle at all.

I wanted to waive a wand over my baby and heal her. Take her pain from her eyes and bring back that infectious giggle we all know her for. Her surgery had gone flawless. She had the best doctor I made sure of that. But the recovery in a hospital that doesn’t typically care of kids leaves much to be desired. My anxiety higher than imaginable I feel like it leaves me unable to give her the best me too.

We pushed for home far harder than the last time. Leaving two whole days sooner in fact. The ride home being rough for Clare. Michigan pot holes don’t mix well with hip surgery. I sat in the front seat looking back at her and once again questioning my parenting. Did I push to hard for her to come home? Was this the right choice?

Once home it was clear it was the right choice. My girl in her big comfy chair sleeping through the night gave me peace. I still didn’t sleep much night one home. I couldn’t stop all the it’s your fault she is like this thoughts. Therapy I went on day two. Thinking I had to get some off switch for my brain cause this mama needs sleep. Her advice was simply to talk to my best friend. Tell every detail of what I hide in that hospital. As you can imagine I gave all of you the light version of what my mind thought. Therapist suggest I give the dark version and cry. Maybe let some one hold me and not think that I am crazy. I gave it thought sharing the flash backs I had had sitting in the bed at night at the hospital.

The pregnancy of Clare…. The aftermath of her birth. What I went through entirely alone. When Clare was born it was just that . Alone with the entire world against me. I thought of telling it and maybe letting go somehow. Or finding peace. I planned too… Then I sat watching a movie and thinking if I were to share then I have simply passed the pain on. I’ve let someone who loves me hurt with me. So I pushed it back down and went to sleep. They are still just my demons to hide.

Clare hasn’t even had a need for pain meds since coming home. She is all smiles and feeling really quite good considering. We go back to doctor in a few weeks to see how it’s healing but I have no doubts in her playing basketball and volleyball and all the dreams she has coming true. Home was exactly where she needed to be to recover.

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I am a huge amazon shopper of course. So I connected my amazon account to fetch as well and that too gives me points. I buy brands from amazon’s amazing buy five save five and rack in crazy points off those products that are delivered right to my door. Then I use the fetch cards to pay for them. It’s a huge circle of savings! So are you ready to start saving too!

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The smallest things I seemed to have taken for granted for so long. I couldn’t slow myself down to enjoy them rather. I had tried a garden once. In containers because the landlord wouldn’t allow planting in the ground. He hated flowers even. I took quite a bit of pride in what I had growing in those containers. More so when we harvested and ate some of what we grew.
I didn’t have much time back in those days to truly enjoy growing. I didn’t have to do much tending in the containers and it wasn’t something I could just stroll through. This year I had started a few seeds inside our home. I had just a few growing really. I kept talking of how I would get a tiller and make a patch for my garden. Putting it off further and further until the place that I volunteer had a farmer bring in many starter plants.
One look and I knew it would be enough to really have a garden. I walked over and gave a donation and filled my car. Returning home to place teens to work tilling my space. Now I had all the seedlings I had been growing inside, the herb garden I had in the window sill all ready to transfer. It took me an entire day to get it all in the ground. I wondered if any would actually produce.
I have quite the zoo in the back yard that I am always feeding. Wouldn’t they just help themselves to my garden? I would never know if I didn’t try though.
When the garden begun to truly flourish. It lite me up inside. Picking the vegetables to pass on to my birds, kids, and rat brought me great joy. Giant leafy greens for my Tortoise in plenty. Seeing the animals chomp down on the plants I grew made me feel fulfilled.


I’ve found that I tend to get lost in that little patch of my yard. Kneeling and watching the bees. Counting over a dozen at one time out there pollinating their little hearts out. Watching the growth in the peppers and seeing the pumpkin plant grow like a weed truly brings me this sense of peace.
Having the ability to lay claim to this piece of my yard and do with it as I please is a bit empowering. Seeing what glories I can produce from such a small little piece of land is pretty remarkable. Take time to garden!

As a mother there has never been a more trying time in my life. Almost a year and a half ago I took Clare to her pediatrician. Turned out he wasn’t in the office that day and we seen one of his colleagues. Clare was having back and leg pain. An x-ray showed her being severely constipated. No biggie right? Well, there was a catch. Also in the x-ray we got a red flag that something was off with Clare’s hips. They suggested a specialist take a peek.

At this point I start thinking. I am reminded of the time she complained mildly of the pain from walking. It was there but somehow I had managed to brush it off. Later this would leave me feeling I had failed her. It was right in front of us the entire time after all.

Specialist time comes and Marc’s mom came with. They speak of hip displaysia and possible surgery one day! Key words there being one day! They thought that some physical therapy would greatly improve things. To be honest my worries were put to rest. It never seemed at that apt that it was a serious issue. I even thought in my mind it was one she would grow out of. They in no way told me that my daughter’s hip was popping out of place with each step. I was never informed that she needed limited activities because it was painful.

A year goes by with my daughter tolerating this pain. She just tried so hard to hide it and live with it. Finally I opened my damn eyes! I listened to Hailey come to me that her sister hurts all the time. I started tracking how often Clare was taking over the counter pain meds and anti-inflammatory meds. Now I call the doctor again.

I get us a new specialist. Not just a ortho but one specifying in hips. I drive the hour in a half again. More X-rays are done and I carry with me the disk and records from all the previous. New doctor isn’t in the same circle as old so wouldn’t have the same access to her files. I go alone with my daughter’s this time.

In walks doctor Ryan. I don’t think he even took a breath before saying physical therapy isn’t ever able to fix this. Surgery is needed now. Yes, by now he meant as soon as it was paid for she was on a table. I begun to run vigorously on the inside of my palms in circles. I had to stay calm the girls were right there. I listened intently to everything the doctor said. I asked questions over and over and over. Then I just tried to brace myself for the long road.

How do you brace yourself for that though? I mean my kids truly haven’t had any issues medically at all since they made it out the hospital at birth. Clare spent 4 months fighting as a premie but no surgery was required. She was so tough that entire time I never had much worry. Now a major surgery with a pelvis bone model in front of me showing where they will cut my child’s bone in three places is before me.

I held it together and made it home before falling apart alone. The sheer challenge of me being with Clare while the house continues was enough to instill panic through me. LEt alone the MAJOR surgery my child would be put through and not once but twice. That is right as soon as this right side recovered it would be time to go again for the left. Like seriously how can I cope.

I seen the financial burden coming. We have done so very well being on time with bills and having just a small cushion before hit with next weeks bills. Saving hasn’t happened much. I was just feeling good and ready to discuss saving when this happened. I tried to work more in the weeks prior to the surgery but it just didn’t work out to well. I found a place for all the other kiddos while I was in hospital leaving two at home to tend to the zoo.

The night before surgery I hadn’t slept in two days. I hadn’t much eaten either. I reached out for Marc to call his parent’s to drive me. I didn’t think I could safely get us to the hospital that morning at 5 am. They happily took me and Clare up. Walking in that hospital was the most frightened I had ever been. Choosing such a risk, knowing all the work that would come after. What if I wasn’t able to take good enough care of her after and there were problems? What if it gets infected? Oh the worries filled and consumed me. My anxiety had never in my life been so high. I had multiple panic attacks.

The surgery was to take about 4 hours. 4.5 hours in a phone in the waiting room rings. They call my name over to the phone. I think it is because surgery is over and I can see my baby. I am dead wrong. This is the surgeon on speaker in the room my daughter lays with her hip cut wide open. He has her under the knife and is calling because things are far more complicated than he expected.

My heart sank and the entire room must have known because the receptionist grabs my hand. She is freezing cold and it startles me. Marc’s mom has now come to my side to console me. I feel everyone’s eyes as the words come from my mouth no we have no religious beliefs not allowing. You may proceed with the bone graphs and blood she needs.

14 she is just 14 years old with bones that are not working as they should. That didn’t ever grow as they should. My mind raced with all the stress and life situations I was in during my pregnancy with Clare. That was when Keith had beat me for the last time and I had left. I was walking 5.8 miles to work everyday with 3 little’s at home. My family spent there time calling cps because I was just barely 21 4 kids in single mom and my carpet wasn’t clean enough. I was stressed to the max my pregnancy with her. I rarely put food in my mouth because I couldn’t afford too.

I had decided to place Clare for adoption. I just had no way to feed a infant. Walking across town to subway job with a nasty divorce in process. ( his family loaded and him a 9,000 lawyer.) He didn’t want Clare at all. Swore it wasn’t his baby. But that was the catch he wouldn’t sign adoption because he said it wasn’t his baby. So that stalled the process. When Clare was born early and not able to have dna done because they didn’t think she was stable the adoption process was stalled. The parent’s didn’t want to see Clare without Keith signing and he said it wasn’t his. So I couldn’t leave my little girl in a hospital fighting for her life thinking exactly what I had my entire life. That she had no one. I didn’t name Clare they had. They were suppose to be her parent’s but they left her there alone. For far to long. I started to find a way to see my little girl. Even though she was an hour and a half away then too.

A month went by without adoptive couple there. By the time dna was done and keith was dad and he was ready to sign. I had backed out. They weren’t at her side for that fight and that didn’t set easy with me. It took a fight for me to keep my daughter after that. The fight of my life! Cps came often and at one point I had no custody. I didn’t stop fighting though not till she was home. Not till I learned to be the mom she needed me to be.

Anyway when surgery was over and Clare was allowed to her room and recovery. I never left her. All that guilt of the first hospital stay rushed back. I thought of her fighting then alone. I vowed she wouldn’t ever go through that again way back when she couldn’t even open her eyes. I kept my vow. Clare made it through surgery like the fighter she always has been!

Her care in the hospital was my top priority and now is mine here since she is home. She is 8 days out on surgery now. We go back to the hospital and see her progress next week. Everything at home has went really well. She is the toughest little girl you will ever meet.

The financial burden hit as hard as I thought it would. It got tight and still is a bit. More trips up to the hospital and more medications to be purchased. We will survive it though. I think after Clare gets to where she can get herself to the bathroom that will be the time I move forward at working a steady income.

Clare does have a wish list of things she would like to do from her chair. Not walking for 12 weeks is so boring she says!Clare Surgery Wish List Items

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My own doctor called and treatment was to start again the 5th. I won’t be going and another doctor will no longer be mine. Missing the last apt they allow for me to remain a patient. Crazy as it sounds I was ready to be back on hormone treatment. It sucked but it was saving my life. My relationship doesn’t seem like it would survive that now though.