Growing Chicks

It's amazing how quickly the chicks are changing.

When we brought them home they were little puffs of fluff.

Now?

Well, they are still puffs of fluff, but they are growing their little wings.  Some even have the beginnings of their tail feathers.

You can see wings on these 2 in the front.

Stunning to watch how quickly they change.

They know to scratch and peck the ground as if foraging for food.  They know to 'gargle' their water and eat some grit to help digest their food.  They know to go to under the heat lamp when they get cold.  Or to move away from it if too hot.

Eating from their food bin.
(You can really see the wing on the one chick)

Pecking and scratching --
they LOVE the green door

It's really quite astounding.

No mama hen teaching them.  Just instincts.

God given instincts of how to survive in this new world they were thrust into.











I love to watch the kids excitement as they spend time each day holding and loving on these cute little chickies.

They might be tiny, but they
are quick.  The girls get nervous
about dropping them.

She wants the chicks to love her --
she sure loves them.

We only have one like this.
A Columbian Wyondotte.
Special friends.  Special bond.

Elijah has the touch with this little one.
My favorite right now - a Dark Brahma.

Silas continues to monitor their progress from the foosball table as well.  He consistently attempts to sneak into the back porch every chance he gets.  Once he actually managed to join us when the girls left their door ajar as we were 'visiting' with the chicks.

Fortunately, we were all there and we whisked him right back out almost immediately.  No harm, no foul.  (Pun again, intended)

Each day is fun and exciting so far. I hope the kids continue to feel this way as these little puffs turn into actual 'chickens'. From what I hear teenage chickens aren't so cute and cuddly.  LOL!

Hmmm... sounds similar to the human variety.  (Just kidding)

Still super cute and cuddly.
 A couple barely have their little wings - although most are getting a nice little wing span.

Chasing Highs, Treating Lows -- a LONG Night

Type 1 diabetes definitely keeps ya hopping.

Lately, overnight numbers for the girls have been pretty decent.  In the last several nights Trinity has had a few 'highs' that we were able to correct and get to a reasonable number easily and Selah's numbers and graphs have looked awesome.  Nice, steady, even for the most part.

Until....... last night.

Nothing new, nothing different in terms of foods and insulin/carb ratios and yet..... a HUGE difference in their numbers.

This..... this is diabetes.  This is why living with this disease is so challenging.  You just don't know from day to day what this beast will bring.

As they prepared for bed, we had them both check their BG - blood glucose level.  A normal occurrence.

Trinity was rising toward the 300's.  Sigh.  Why oh why?  We had dosed for all her dinner foods. They were foods she eats on a regular basis and the carbs easily accounted for - nothing new to throw us off.  We typed in the number in her pump and gave the correction it stated.  Since she still had insulin on board from her meal, the correction wasn't as big as it would be 'just' for the high blood sugar number.  Now, all we could do was wait and see if it did the trick.

When this happens you always wonder, is the pump site effective?  Is she actually getting the insulin we are dispensing? Is the insulin working?  Did it get too hot?  Unfortunately, there's no way to know except. to. wait.  Synthetic insulin works slower than the insulin our bodies make. So... it could be 2 hours before that insulin we gave her to correct that high blood sugar would peak and start having a real effect on her high number.

Then Selah.  A different scenario played out with her.  She was 55 at her bedtime check.  WAY TOO LOW!  That was AFTER she had had a juice 30+ minutes prior for an 107 double arrow down reading on her dexcom.  Again, same foods, same insulin/carb ratios and for some reason, her body decided to plummet whereas Trinity's decided to soar.

It can be maddening.

She had just finished eating a decent sized meal a short time earlier and then had a juice box to bring up the low we knew was coming on.  (Which, unfortunately, hadn't worked quite as well as planned.)

Her. Little. Belly. Was. Full!

She didn't want anything else to eat or drink.

As a type 1 diabetic, that wasn't an option. She needed fast acting carbs to bring that low blood sugar up to a reasonable range before she could go to bed.

She didn't want another juice; couldn't fathom eating candy.  We settled on a tablespoon of honey.  Yep, you read that right, "a spoonful of honey helps the medicine go down."  Oh wait, that's a little different.  Anyway, she ate the honey and then we waited................  again.

We snuggled her up on the couch and we set a timer.

Wait.

She looked ok.  She wasn't drooping.  She wasn't shaking.  She just sat, playing mom's phone, waiting for the honey to make it's way through her slight body to bring up that low blood sugar.

It was slow working, but... it did work.  She was coming up a tiny bit at each check.  Ten to fifteen minutes in - she was around 60.  Moving in the right direction.  Ten more minutes, 66.  Still heading up so we continued to wait.  No more carbs as we didn't want to then be chasing a rebound high from too many fast acting carbs from fighting the low.

Such is the tightrope walk of living with type 1 diabetes.

Finally, after a good 30+ minutes she was in the 90's with an arrow up.  Phew.

Now we could let her go to bed.  Off she went and we continued to watch her Dexcom from our phones.  107 - arrow straight up.  Would she slow down? Would we need to correct now with insulin to keep her from going too high?

Nights like this are hard.  Decisions are tough to make.  Make the wrong one and you fight blood sugars going the wrong way - either way.

Unfortunately, this wasn't the end of our blood sugar woes for the evening.

Techno and I went to bed but Trinity was still in the high 200's.  Yet, it hadn't been 3 hours since her correction.  The insulin could still be slowly working in her little body.  A little sleep then check again.

Her alarm went off a few times as her numbers were NOT coming down.  Finally, around midnight, I got up and gave her yet another correction.  This always makes me scared.  Do I do what the pump says?  Do I give a little less to prevent a low?  What if I give less and she doesn't come down? What if I give the full amount and she plummets to a severe low?  I really dislike these moments.  My heart pounds, my mind swirls, my palms sweat.  What IS the right decision?  I never really know.  Last night?  Last night I decided to err on the side of caution and gave a little less.  She still had some insulin on board from her dinner and correction earlier -- I was surprised to see that.  I think that's what made my decision to go with less.

Back to bed.  Fortunately, she didn't even know I had been there.  She snoozed right through it all.

A short time later, more alarms.  Trinity's phone had stopped connecting to her dexcom and we were no longer getting her blood glucose readings.  That's NOT good after giving a correction. We want to be sure she's not going too low, be sure the insulin is working and actually bringing her BG down.

So.......

Up again.  Padding down the hall, I hoped it was just her phone and not a gap with her dexcom. That DOES happen. Technology isn't perfect.  Fortunately, it was her phone.  A quick reset and a short time later -- numbers appeared on my phone once again.  Relief.

Back to bed.  Again, she didn't wake at all. Thankful for that.

A short time later, Techno's low blood sugar alarms chimed.  A shake of his shoulders and he's awake to deal with his own low.

Trinity's numbers didn't come down as much or as quickly as I'd hoped, but they were trending in the right direction or at least staying stable.  Fear often keeps me from giving more corrections even when I probably should.

Finally, around 3 or so, Trinity's numbers were falling below the 200 line.

Sleep - my sleep - finally came at that point.

Techno got up early for work and Trinity had bounced back above the 200 mark so he gave yet another correction.  I didn't even hear his alarm, her alarm, him get out of bed.  Tired.

Now, it's morning.  6:40 am.  I heard the kids moving about.  I realized Techno was up and gone.  I decided it was time for me to get up too.  Even though my body didn't feel rested.  My mind still foggy and groggy.  After 20 minutes of stirring, I finally got myself out of bed.  7am.

I see the jump in Trinity's graph. I figured Techno corrected as now she's ZOOMING downward.

She decided to make her siblings a 'special' breakfast so she hadn't eaten yet this morning.  I asked her what her dexcom read - 66.  To be certain, she did a finger stick and checked with her blood glucose meter.  56.

"Grab a juice."

You guessed it, now. we. wait.

Again.

It didn't take long and her blood sugars were coming up. She finished making her little meal for her sisters and herself. They ate.  We gave she and Selah insulin for the fruit salad.

And once again, we'll ..... WAIT.... and see how their numbers go today.

It's not easy being a pancreas.  We use scientific calculations to try to dose correctly,  to try to find the right balance in the carb to insulin ratio.  We rely on figures that tell us exactly how many carbs are in any given morsel of food.  We weigh, measure, and guess just how much they are eating of said food.  We attempt to figure out how much to correct for highs and lows, but.... we aren't the pancreas God created to manage these things.  We can only do what science has discovered -- which is by far inferior to the 'real deal' that God created.

Until a cure is found, however, we'll continue to strive to be the best pancreases we can be for our little girls.  Even when it means sleepless nights, tired mornings, spoonfuls of honey, correction after correction of insulin only to be followed by a juice box because we corrected a little too much.  I'm honored to be a substitute pancreas for our little girls.  I'll continue to strive to be a good surrogate for their non-working pancreases - relying on God's guidance as I do.

Baby Chicks

We picked up our chicks and brought them home to our 'fancy, smancy brooder.'  It was preheated and ready for their arrival.

Food?  Check.

Water?  Check.

Paper towels to cover the bottom?  Check.

Heat lamp?  Check.

Thermometer?  Check.

As we brought the chicks in, I checked the temp inside the brooder. Woa!  It was hovering around 120 degrees.  YIKES!  I took the lid off and moved the lamp while we set up the bar along the side of the brooder to raise the lamp just a touch.

Once we had the lamp a little higher and the temp a little lower, we plopped them gently into their new habitat through the little door we had made.  With each new chick, I dipped their tiny beaks into their waterer so they'd know right where it was located.  After releasing them, each chick immediately went to the light and huddled together.

Cute, cuddly, cold chicks.

I guess that made sense as they had been in a cool box the 45+ minute ride home. They needed to warm up.

We watched the as they shivered and huddled.

A short time later we returned to check on them. They were finally dispersing and drinking and even eating.  Eureka! We had successfully transferred our new baby chicks to their new chickie home.

Starting to disperse just a bit.
No longer huddled in one big heap.

Phew.

I checked their temperature a couple times before bed.  It was hovering around 90-95 and they all seemed happy.  Eating, drinking, sleeping. Not overly clumped as if too cold; not plastered against the sides as if trying desperately not to become roasted chicken.

Even venturing out to eat and drink a bit.

Perfect.


The Next morning I checked again.  All looked good.  Little chickie poo on the paper towels, temperature steady, chickens happily eating, drinking, sleeping.

By that night they continued to flourish in their new little habitat.  I had noted a couple had poo that looked like it was trying to 'stick' to their bum feathers.  But... otherwise.... all was well.

The next morning as I changed their paper towels, checked their food, and refreshed their water, I noticed the bums on several little chicks were looking crusty.  Like the poop wasn't dropping off, but sticking there and building up.  A little research showed this to be 'pasty butt'.  I texted my resident chicken expert friend and she told me to simply 'pull it off'.  Use a damp cloth if necessary, but get it off.  That's pretty much what I had read too, but... wanted to confirm b/c it all seemed pretty 'stuck on'. I didn't want to harm our little chicks.

However, if I left it, they'd no longer be able to excrete their waste. THAT wouldn't be good.

So.... that's just what I did.  I got warm, wet paper towels, picked up one chick at a time to determine if their little bums were effected and began washing their little tushes.

Yep, you read that right.  I was washing little chicken butts this morning.

I gently moistened and pulled off the dried on poo and placed them back under their heat lamp after dipping their little beaks back in the water dish.  They need to know where that water is so they can stay hydrated. Especially after being stressed by my 'handling and washing.'  Poor little things.

Upon finishing this tedious task, I walked out of the back porch to find Silas - our cat - perched on the foosball table in Elijah's room.  The perfect roost - pun intended.  This spot has a window behind it looking out into the back porch..... where the chicks are located.  I think this is going to become his favorite location in the house until these chicks are eventually moved outside.

The perfect view of the chicks! Fortunately, they are perfectly safe with the window b/w them and the cat.

Ironically, the chicks are right beside the bunny, Lucas but Silas has not found him quite so interesting.  He's actually been a bit afraid of him. LOL!  The chicks?  Not so scary.  Conversely, I think they look quite tasty to him.

Dishes and Bubbles

Striving to teach the girls responsibility, they have taken over the chore of morning dishes as well as cleaning of the table, chairs, and counters.

They have developed their own 'schedule' for splitting up these chores.  I don't intervene unless someone is choosing to not 'do their part'.

In general the girls enjoy this task.

You know... soap, bubbles, water.  What's not to like?

I can't say the chore is accomplished quickly.

I can't say the dishes are always spotless.

I can't say they are put in the drain in a fashion to actually dry.

But... I can say the girls generally tackle their task with gusto.

They usually collaborate on this chore in a positive manner.

Giggles and laughter are often heard.

Today was no exception.

Fun was being had as a new discovering was unearthed.

BUBBLES!

Big bubbles like you get when you 'blow bubbles'.

Strong bubbles that could be 'caught' in precious little hands.

Selah was so excited to show me the bubble she caught.

All caused by dipping a plastic cup into the soapy water and tilting it back up allowing the air to escape through the surface of the water, creating..... B-B-B-BUBBLES!!!!

Charity too wanted to show off her bubble.

(I'm certain there was also a Science lesson hid in there somewhere.)

Even more fun was catching said bubbles in your hand; carrying them to show mom; all while they stayed -- not popping.

What fun.

What joy.

What discovery.

All while doing..... dishes.

1 Year Diaversary Take 1

I had never heard of a 'diaversary'.  Celebrating the day someone was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. Techno never celebrated such a day.  I don't even know the date he was diagnosed.  I know how old he was - but not the actual date.

It seemed odd.

Foreign.

Somewhat out of place.

Why would anyone CELEBRATE the day they were diagnosed with this relentless disease?

As I pondered that notion, I realized that without the diagnosis - we would have lost our precious little Selah.  Many families have experienced this devastation.  Misdiagnosis, leading to diabetic ketoacidosis, and eventually death.

So, there's that.

We can celebrate LIFE.

The night we took her to the ER with
blood glucose readings over 600.

Driving the next morning to Denver for our
day long crash course in everything diabetes.

The life we saved by discovering that her immune system had attacked her pancreas resulting in her body no longer producing insulin.  Without that insulin her body could not break down the foods she ate into usable energy.  She was literally starving to death as her blood sugars rose higher and higher.

I decided yes, we will celebrate 'Diaversaries' for that very reason.

There is much to celebrate.

As this first diaversary approached there were many mixed emotions.

It is still difficult to accept that my little girl will have to live with this disease every minute of every day for the rest of her life. There are no 'breaks'.  No remissions.  No vacations.  No time outs.  It's an all or nothing event.  She can't decide 'I don't feel like counting carbs today.'  Or, 'I'm tired of the pokes and pricks, I'll just sit this week out.'

Such decisions will have dire ramifications for her health.

I struggle with all the knowledge I have of the devastation type 1 diabetes can ravish upon it's victims.

At the same time, I am overjoyed that we knew the symptoms; we received the diagnosis; we began the daily regime of insulin that keeps her little body healthy, functioning, alive.

What a difference 6 months can make.
Insulin = life

On this day, we celebrate.

So much life.  So much laughter.  So much love.

We celebrate the victory over the death sentence that could have been.  We celebrate the improved health now that she has the energy she needs from the food she eats.  We celebrate her smile; her laugh; her growth.  We celebrate the triumphs we experience each day as we continue to strive toward keeping her little body healthy and alive.










We celebrate...... SELAH!!!

Pink, full cheeks.  LIFE!  Growth.  Health.

Driving.... Miss Bethany

Having FINALLY gotten Jacob officially licensed, meant it was now time to start the process all over with Bethany.

Jacob's journey to get his license was a long and drawn out event.  At 15.5 he got his learner's permit and drove a total of ...... 3 times before his permit expired. Sigh.  Upon moving it took us a good year before we renewed his permit.  Once renewed we STILL didn't do a ton of driving with him.  It's just not as convenient when the main road we travel is a 65 mph route.  However, despite our mucked up approach, he did manage to get his license -- at 18 -- and so far is a pretty decent driver.

Did we do it the right way?  Well, not necessarily, but... he's still driving.

Fast forward a bit.

Now, it's Bethany's turn.  She too got her learner's permit when she was around 15.5.  She's now 16.5 and she's driven...... maybe...... 30 minutes total.

It's like deja vu all over again.

This past week she asked to drive on the trip to take her and Elijah to the library for their volunteer work.

I happily obliged.

I was nervous about her backing out of the garage -- you know -- mirrors, the side of the garage, not to mention the other vehicle in the garage parked beside us.

Breathe.

She did it.

Did I mention I always told Techno he should be the one to teach our kids to drive?  He's the patient one.  Me?  Not so much.

Here's several of the comments I made as she drove.  Granted lots of other conversation and dialogue took place; but these stayed with me as I smiled - yes, I did say smiled - upon returning from our driving adventure.

"Remember, our driveway isn't straight back."

"Watch for cars as you back out into the street."

"Yep, that wasn't QUITE the driveway, but now you are ready to go forward."

"It's muddy so move a little toward the center so we don't slide into the snow filled creek."

"As you approach the stop sign, you'll want to slow down."

"Not that much, that soon."

"Now ease up and look for cars."

"Go ahead and turn on to the highway, but remember the speed limit is much faster."

"Be sure to stay in your lane; we're not on the dirt road anymore."

"The speed limit lowers to 30 up ahead, you'll want to start slowing down."

"Not that much, that soon."
(Hmmmm, that sounds familiar.)

"Make sure you turn on the left turn signal to go into the Friendly Store parking lot."

"Yes, push the lever down."

"Ok, turn into the library drive then park in one of the spots."

"Well, that 'invisible' car that could have been parked in that spot is now smashed."

"Diagonal is not quite the same as vertical when it comes to parking."  ;-)

"Now, back out of the spot into the drive then move forward to the road."

"Yeah, putting it in drive after backing up usually helps."  :-)

"Ok, move a bit to center." 

"This is actually a parking berm.  Move to center."
 (as I grab the wheel to guide her over to the left just a bit.)

"What are you doing?  You can't stop in the middle of the road!"
(I guess trying to nudge the steering wheel for her, freaked her out a bit.)

"Now turn into the parking lot."

"Well, that's not quite the parking lot I meant."
(As she zoomed through the Friendly store parking lot and right into the Old Corral lot.)

"Back out, but be sure to watch the pole behind us."

"Good job slowing down and staying over for that truck."

"Ok, just because no cars are coming toward us, doesn't mean you have to go that fast.

This is a residential area, on a dirt road."
(As she zoomed toward 35 mph in our little subdivision)

We all survived.

Elijah expressed his nervousness with some running commentary about Bethany's driving abilities.

Bethany sniped, "Your commentary ISN'T helping."

She did good.

If you take into consideration that the only other times she'd driven was in a parking lot the day she got her permit for about 15-20 minutes and a time or two of driving from the fire dept to our house..... (an approximate 1 mile drive)..... She. Rocked. It.

This is why we TEACH kids to drive.  It's not automatic.

I may have a few more grey hairs, but I got plenty from Jacob as well.  I'll get even more from Elijah.  We won't even mention how many I'll have by the time Selah is ready to get behind the wheel.

So, we're at it again.  Working toward our second licensed teen in the house.

She'll get there.

No rush on our part.  

Even though she'd love to have her license yesterday, we still pretty much all go to the same places, at the same times, together.

I'm happy to hold on to her childhood a tiny bit longer.

This time won't last long.

Grace in Grieving

As we approach March 19, the emotions of 2015 have been bubbling to the service even more.

It was a tough year -- 2015 -- a really tough year.

Mid-March, Selah was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes.  That shook me to the core.  Three weeks later Trinity was also diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes.  Numbness was the word I  used to describe my state initially.  My mom was hospitalized with pneumonia the same day Trinity was diagnosed but released 10 days later.  However, a week after that she was rehospitalized and within 2 weeks of that she passed away from end stages of COPD -- a fact none of us kids knew prior to this last hospitalization.

To say I was hit hard, knocked to the ground, and stomped on was an understatement.

As I dealt with the newness of our girls' diagnoses and the overwhelming fear and stress that comes with learning to manage diabetes, I was also thrust into decision maker mode for everything that transpired with my mom.

Her hospitalization, bringing in hospice, and ultimately her death definitely diverted the severe grief I had been harboring since the girls diagnosis.

At the time I thought it was good that I wasn't dwelling on the grief that life's circumstances had thrust upon me.  However, I've come to realize that I wasn't allowing myself to grieve openly.  For either the girls or my mom.  I was in 'action' mode.

Others not living our life couldn't understand the level of grief I was experiencing.  The girls were now 'fine' so what was wrong with me?

I now know I took those comments, those innuendoes to heart and I stifled my own grief.  At least to the outside world.  I did cry. I did recoil.  I tried to write about it, but I never felt loved through it. I tried to put on a 'strong face'.  I tried to push the emotions down when they'd surface.  I didn't know how much that impacted me until later.

Don't get me wrong, Techno loved me through it all.  Our children supported me and helped me cope. A few friends did in fact reach out and try to learn and understand. But, the masses?  I perceived that my grieving was 'out of the norm' from most.

About the same time as my mom's death, we learned Selah also had Hashimoto's Disease and Celiac.   Then by the end of the year we discovered Elijah has Celiac as well.  In addition, he now has to wear a back brace 23 hours a day for Scheurmann's Kyphosis; praying it will help prevent spinal fusion surgery.

I continued to grieve. Slowly. Bitterly.

I came to realize I was angry.

Angry at myself for grieving so much.  So hard.  So long.  When the tears would erupt out of nowhere, I'd lash out at myself wondering why they wouldn't stop.

Angry at others for making me feel like I was wrong to be grieving as much or as long as I was.

Angry that some didn't reach out; didn't lend a shoulder to cry on.

Angry that Techno seemed to be able to move past the grief and I wasn't.

Maybe even angry that it all happened when and how it did.  So fast. So close.

Recently I've learned to give myself grace in grieving.  My grief isn't going to be like someone else's. Just because people think I have cried and it's time to 'pull yourself up' and move on, doesn't mean that's where I was.  Where I am.  Even the experts can't predict how each individual will deal with grief.  How long it will last.  How difficult it will be.  Most people deal with one life altering event at a time and grieve for that ONE event.  I had 3 major life altering events From March 19 through May 15. That's a lot.  Then more life altering news through the remainder of the year trickled in.

Yes, diabetes is a 'manageable' disease.  Yes, the girls look healthy and fine now.  Yes, they are healthier than they were prior to getting them on insulin, but.... they now have a life threatening, incurable, terminal disease.  Each day we fight to keep them alive.  To beat down the beast that is diabetes from winning and stealing their very lives.

Yes, I have assurance I will one day see my mom again.  She is whole in Heaven.  That does give me peace.  It keeps me from being hopeless.  Yet, I miss her so very much NOW.

So, am I grieving still?  Yes, I am.  I'm not sure if I'll ever stop grieving for the girls until a cure is found.  Would someone with any other terminal disease stop grieving while dealing with their disease day in, day out?  Is the grief as raw?  No, not at all.  But... hard days bring that rawness up just a bit.

In realizing I needed to show myself grace in grieving, I realized I also need to strive toward giving grace to those around me who don't understand my grief.

Is that easy?  Not so much.  I struggle with it internally and externally often.

I'm hurt.  When I'm hurt I tend to lash out.

But... that's not helpful.  It's not productive.

I can't say "I'm there" yet. But... I am trying.

I'm trying to remember that those not living this disease have no idea the toil it brings.  They don't see the nightly blood sugar checks as we prick our little girls' fingers to bring forth a tiny drop of blood in the dark of night to be sure they are safe; the high and low alarms going off that bring such an adrenalin rush to a mom and dad's heart; the fear as you walk into their bedroom not sure if they are going to be responsive or not; the half asleep child sitting up and pursing their lips sucking at an invisible straw b/c they know you said, 'drink the juice', but their mouth hasn't actually made contact with said juice yet; they are tired, their blood sugar is low, they aren't 'quite themselves; the look on our little girls' faces as their blood sugar drops from a fun day of swimming; how their little bodies go limp even though their desire is to continue playing and frolicking in the cool water; the panic when a cold or virus hits our family and the girls' blood sugars rise and rise and ketones become present in their urine; the worry that ketoacidosis will ravage their bodies all because a simple cold was brought home from a class, church, or the playground.

I'm trying to show grace because if you don't live this life, you can't understand it.  If you don't live this life, you won't feel the heavy load of bricks resting upon your chest each night as you fall asleep, wondering what tonight will bring.  If you don't live this life, you can't understand how hearing of a new virus being spread around causes heart pounding fear in our minds.  If you don't live this life, you don't know what it's like to always carry 'emergency supplies' everywhere you go.  If you don't live this life, you haven't felt the agony of knowing you must painfully stick a needle into your child's body, just to save them.  If you don't live this life, you can't know that each day we are fighting to keep our girls alive.  A very REAL fight.  A very REAL struggle. But... if you don't live this life, you couldn't know that.

Because I know most don't understand, I'm trying to find ways to be graceful.  I didn't fully understand before our girls' were diagnosed.

I'm also giving myself grace when the tears come.  When the anxiety hits.  There's no time limit on grief.

All that transpired in 2015 hasn't just 'gone away' now that a new year is here.  It's ok if I cry.  It's ok if I hide.  It's ok if I fear.  It's ok if I miss my mom.

Grace.  Grace is helping me emerge from this grief.

God's grace has saved me.  God's grace can get me through this too.  He shows me grace, therefore it only makes sense I show myself that same sort of grace.  It only makes sense I strive to show it to others as well.

Grace.  Simply.... grace.