Last week Ari took Erica and me on a little walk around Ogunquit. I notice a woman staring at me from about 30 feet away as she walks towards us. I’m used to this kind of behavior, of course. I start waiting for the winky winky, but then she’s stares at Erica, too. Strange.
When she walks by, she looks in the stroller, and turns to her two friends and says, “That’s baby Ari.”
That was that. We all kept walking.
Probably most parents whose babies aren’t named Mary Kate and Ashley would think it was creepy. I thought it was pretty cool.
He’s a celebrity for sure, that Ari. Granted, it would be nice if he was famous for inventing Vitameatavegamin, receiving a Tony for his one man mime Spamalot rendition, or perhaps winning the Megabucks than what he’s actually famous for, but I guess it’s better than ear nibblin’ like Mike Tyson or lyin’ in bed like Brian Wilson did.
Then it hit me. Ari’s fans don’t know what’s going on! I’ve been shirking my responsibility to keep the world informed. Mil disculpas a todo.
Just because I’m back working full time and have a kid at home that does more drugs than spawn of Robert Downey Jr. and Lindsay Lohan is no excuse.
Here’s what’s up. And strap yourself in and grab some General Foods International Coffee. It’s a long one.
Been back at home here for a little while now. A few weeks ago Ari had a feeding tube surgically implanted in his belly. Thus we don’t need the up his nose with a rubber hose anymore. His purty face is on display in its full glory.
Working on weaning off of methadone, lorazepam and clonidine, and will be for a while. Just starting to work our way down on a few of the other meds, too. Still single handedly inflating the stock prices of the global pharmaceutical industry, but slowly simplifying the daily cocktail.
A few weeks ago Ari charmed all at his great grammy’s 87th birthday party. Last weekend he enjoyed several hours with his grandparents while mommy and daddy went out for their 4th anniversary. (Good thing we could only get an early dinner reservation. We were practically asleep in our soup bowls by 8.)
For the most part, he’s been hanging around the house taking in life, and getting stuffed by us with so much rocket fuel milk that he may just be able to unseat Joey Chestnut for the gyoza title.
We don’t yet have enough data on whether or not he’ll be able to sustain it, but his weight gain in the last two weeks has been steady if unspectacular. Big or small, up is up. We’re on the right track.
Just a few months ago it seemed Ari’s life hung in the balance on a daily basis. Long term heart health is still anybody’s guess, but now the days go like this:
- Bed at 7:30pm. Wake up at 1, 2:30, 3:30, 4, 4:30, and 5. Up from 5 to 7 walking in circles around the house.
- Meds meds meds.
- Stuff the kid. Stuff the kid. Stuff the kid.
- Nap nap nap.
- Happy fun playtime. Raspberries. Walks. Driving around. Hoping the cops don’t ask Ari for his license.
- Early intervention. Physical therapy. Nutritionist. Doctor doctor doctor.
It’s constant craziness, but it’s good craziness. He’s a happy kid most of the time. Some of the times, well, he’s a real wanker, but we love him anyway.
Speaking of wankers, right in the middle of the double open heart surgery battle, I got a funny little request from the Children’s marketing department. They were making a “heart parents speak” type video
When I say heart parents, I mean, of course, heart moms. Someone in the diversity department must have realized the video shoot was shaping up to be all lass and no lads, and said something like, “Hey, get a guy if you can. Don’t care how low in the talent pool you have to go, just find one.”
And there I was. Token wanker. (Stay tuned. Wanker theme to continue.)
Along with doing my part in the video, they ended up asking me a series of questions.
Q. What in Ari’s life are you most looking forward to being there for?
A. Getting his AARP Card.
Q. Aside from the obvious stuff, what’s something that people don’t know about life at Children’s Hospital?
A. It’s very difficult to maintain a low carb diet walking by the 24 hour Au Bon Pain all day every day, but somehow I managed it. Meanwhile, cheat days are glorious.
Q. What have you learned from all this?
Heavens to Murgatroyd! No fair. There’s no way to answer that question with a joke without seeming either evasive or out of touch with the gravity of the situation.
And how could I possibly answer without sounding sanctimonious?
Here’s what I said, plus or minus:
Good friends of ours just lost their seven year old son to similar heart disease after a long and painful struggle. After a while, when they were ready, they posted a message online to friends and family. In that message, they said that their son’s life made their lives big and wide.
I might not have understood that before, but I understand it now.
Not sure why that came to mind, but that’s what I said. From then on, that question and my answer never left my mind.
What have I learned from this? How has Ari made my life big and wide?
It took me a while to figure it out, but I think I’m on to something.
Ari went into heart surgery for the first time at 14 hours of life. Because of that, a little thing that we were planning to get done didn’t get done. Didn’t because it couldn’t.
Ari couldn’t get circumcised.
It’s not that the mohel retired because he couldn’t cut it anymore, it was a bad idea to stress Ari out before or after a heart procedure. After the first few days, circumcision takes a urologist and anesthesia. Anesthesia for Ari is on a “must do for heath” basis only, so no circumcision.
(Possible title for Ari’s autobiography: Wanker Uncut. Discuss.)
I asked the Rabbi what her thoughts were on this. She said the most commonly cited circumcision reference in the Torah isn’t the only one.
In Parshat Ekev (Deuteronomy), Moses tells the Israelites, “Circumcise your hearts, and be stiff necked no longer.”
So, while Ari hasn’t been circumcised in the common tradition, through heart surgery he’s been circumcised quite literally according to at least one guideline set forth in the Torah. As far as she was concerned, he’s got that one checked off on the to-do list.
That’s our Ari, taking the road less traveled. Circumcised for sure, just not in the way that will identify him as a He-bro at the gym.
I asked the Rabbi about the context of the passage. She said it’s one of those not-really-clear cut (get it, cut) Old Testament rambly-type passages. People have interpreted it in lots of different ways.
I thought about it for weeks.
Here’s my take.
When things are largely normal, people (read: me) fall into patterns in their lives.
Wake up. Head off to work. Come home. Do the usual things. Figure dinner out. Have a glass of wine. Watch TV. Go to sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Prep for weekend. Make a list. See some people. Have some fun. Sneak in some work. Do things on the list. Not get to the whole list. Wake up on Monday. Go to work.
Plan a vacation. Make a list. Do things on the list. Come home. Go back to work.
Years go by. Except for getting a little slower and a little creakier, you don’t change much. In a strange way, it all seems pre-written, like these are the things that are gonna happen because they’re gonna happen, all because our mental models – our visions of what our lives should be – don’t change much.
All the while – doing exactly what you think you should do in your life – something feels like it’s missing. Maybe not for you, but for me, it’s there. (Or not there. You know what I mean.) Sometimes it’s top of mind and sometimes it’s buried way back, but it’s there.
This isn’t to say I don’t live life. I do. I love Erica. Love my family. Feel satisfied at work. Take time to smell the roses and all that. But there’s still that noodling in my brain that there’s something more to it all.
Then Ari comes along and all bets are off. Everything you thought your life would be is gone in an instant. Everything you thought you were going to do changes. Your plan is completely derailed.
You strap on your armor, and go from one call to Action Stations to the next.
Then, mid battle, when the days are dark, breaks don’t happen, and sleep is a memory, someone asks, “What’s it like going through this?” and you surprise even yourself with your answer.
Someone did, indeed, ask me. I didn’t say, “It’s the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.” (Meanwhile, it is.) Or “I wouldn’t wish this one anyone.” (I wouldn’t.) Or “I just can’t wait to get him home.” (I couldn’t.)
I said, “Having Ari. Fighting for Ari. Traveling this road with Erica. It’s been the most meaningful thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
And the hole was gone.
There I was, driving stiff necked through life, too often feeling like a spectator – not a meaningful participant – in my days.
Then Ari circumcised his heart. Along with his went mine.
Every day I see things I never saw before. Every day I feel new feelings. I could go on for post after post about my love for my son and the rich sense of pride and hope he gives me. Seeing my wife as a mother, as kind and caring and strong as ever, but somehow more beautiful every day. Hoping I can be as good a father to my son as my father was (and is) to me. How I feel a new sense of empathy for the heavy burden so many people bear, so often silently.
Damn, I just reread that last sentence (fragment) again and now I have no choice: I have to vote Democrat. I guess a bleeding heart will do that to you.
I’ll leave it all at that, but say just one more thing for the record.
I get it. Ari’s life has made my life big and wide.
And I am forever grateful.
P.S. Speaking of grateful, one of my favorite lines in one of my favorite Dead songs goes, “Once in a while you get shown the light, in the strangest of places if you look at it right.” I tried and tried to fit it in this post, but couldn’t figure it out. Perhaps someday, somehow, I’ll slip it in.
Echo of Hope 
[…] I forgot this is the second appearance of Scarlet Begonias on Ari’s blog. I mentioned it in Circumcise Your Heart when Ari was 9 months […]
I am praying for the little man! My nephew had congenital heart issues…I can’t say i understand what your going through but I have watched my sister and the roller coaster ride.he was the youngest baby in the world at 4lbs and ten weeks to survive his first surgery. My brother in law nick named him Popeye. Godbless you Ari?
I love this blog. It’s the one thing that is guaranteed to make me laugh (out loud!) and cry all in the same read. All while filling my heart with joy that Ari is doing so well! Mike, you’ve heard it a million times, you are a phenomenal writer; you never cease to amaze me with how you are telling Ari’s story. Thank you for letting us into your world. Ari, we are so happy you are growing! Keep it up! XOXO
Thanks for the update in Ari’s life and thanks for letting us all in to your thoughts! I now understand better how the source of the strength and the willpower that you have in you.
Reading about happy news about Ari’s weight gain and all the positive things in his life including the loving care he receives from his parents is a joy to read, which is the reason I keep on visiting this site.
Unfortunately, I was also recently reminded (by the news of my original home country) that not all parents provide for even a fraction of this loving care to their children that you and Erika are providing for little Ari.
A little 8 year old girl recently lost her life due to her parents repeated abuse. Reading the news, I was reminded that health and wellbeing of a child is not (and should not be) only a task of a child’s parents. It is the task for any adult who witnesses a child in distress.
In this case, the neighbors and the school had reported the child’s abuse on several occasions to the authorities, but the local authorities failed to take the necessary action. Even if no action was taken by the authorities, those locals who observed the little scared child (bruises on her face and unwilling to return home) were perhaps too scared or too shy to take a direct action. Maybe they still firmly believed in the ‘centralised health care system’ providing for universal care and did not intervene.
Centralized and free of charge healthcare and support system for ALL in need is a good thing and it has been a standard since the 1970’s in my original home country. I would count myself as a democrat, if I were an American.
However, what is forgotten by many people enjoying the ‘system’ is that for those most vulnerable in the society (e.g. the children, the disabled, the depressed, etc.) the ‘system’ often nevertheless fails to provide for the necessary security in their fragile world. They will always also need the good-will and vigilance of our neighbors and alike. They will need the bravery of strangers.
All the legal actions taken now by the government authorities, after the death of the 8 year old girl, will make no fair justice. They will not bring her back.
I am praying Ari’s speedy recovery under the loving care of his parents, and I am praying for the little 8 year old girl who lost her life due to her parents repeated abuse.
-EP-
Hey Kathleen — I’m Molly — I’m also a heart mom, and I quite literally stalked Mike in the ABP bakery. I also say bam when I write and felt like my name was kathleen for a minute when I read your post it sounded so much like me. I couldn’t agree with you more about Mike writing a book (no pressure Mike — you have SO much free time, right?) Kathleen, I’ll definitely keep you on my list to stalk. I’ll just sit at ABP with a sign that says Kathleen on it like they do at the airport. That way you can just walk right up to me and say hi so we can become friends 🙂 Keep hanging in there Schultz’s….loved the Ogunquit story — makes me feel a little less creepy and doesn’t suprise me at all. xoxoxo
I keep on watching for your updates on Ari…it’s been a blessing to my life. Just looking at his smile through it all has changed my priorities about life. Thanks for keeping hope alive
Thanks for putting in to words thoughts that have been kicking around my brain for 14 years! Glad Ari is doing well.
Always love your posts. And I love even more that Ari is doing well and he is HOME taking in all kinds of love from you and Erica. We think of your family all the time. It’s so much better to have a big and wide life, and a life of purpose than an easy and boring one…I still believe that. I’d do it all over again and choose it again in an instant. Even on the hard days, when it seems unfair and it seems that life will never be the “normal” you hoped for. Even then, enjoy it. I’m now certain…it’s not what happens to you in life….it’s what you do with it. You and Erica are doing the best job ever. What a blessed little boy Ari is! Sending you guys all our love!!!
One of my favorite Vacation Bible School songs has always been, ‘Deep and Wide”. It is, of course, referring to God’s love for us but I can’t help but connect those two, making your mention of Ari making your life “Deep and wide” all the sweeter to me. It seems so cliche to just say these boys “put things in perspective” as they seem to do so much more. So happy y’all are home together.
You’re always amazingly clever and humorous in your posts, Mike. With this one you are no less so, but it is evident that you’ve turned some sort of corner. Maybe the rawness of everything has lessened a tiny bit, maybe there is the luxury of something resembling a routine, even one so exhausting – but you’ve managed to step an inch away from it all and provide us with something big and wide in your prose. Thank Ari for me for your heart circumcision. Too bad it had to happen without anesthesia!
Here’s to circumcision of the heart!!! L’Chaim!
Always praying for Ari and thinking of y’all. Love ya but just say no to Obama!! Much love, prayers and hugs from SC. Glad to hear the weight is going in the right direction, even if it’s slow.
Twenty-five years ago today, my son Matthew Mann was born, He was a preemie, taken away to the NICU right after birth. The neonatologist told us that he had a 50-50 chance of surviving. On day two, they found his heart problem. The cardiologist and Matthew’s main nurse came to my hospital room to tell us the news, and explain his heart defect. We knew he would need surgery; didn’t know when. A couple of hours later, the neonatologist came back into my room to give us an update. He told us that he knew he had given us 50-50 odds of survival, but now that Matthew also had the heart problem, he couldn’t give us any odds.
Well, Matt was a fighter from the get-go. He was off the vent in 8 days, (ah, and you know what should be happening on the 8th day!), and soon went to the step-down unit. He stayed there for another 3 weeks or so, as getting him to gain weight was a problem. Right before he went home, we were allowed to have a Bris. It was in my hospital room, with a Mohel and my doctor, who got the honor of being the Sandek (honor of holding the baby, though they don’t really do that anymore, at least if you’re Reform like us) Matthew was taken back to the ICU, where the nurses watched over him, and also admired the job that our Mohel had done! They had a parade of nurses looking at this penis, oohing and ahhing over the beauty of the Mohel’s work. They kept him for observation for a couple of days, and then we got to take him home. For four weeks.
Well, leaving out a lot, jump to November of 1987. Matthew got into major trouble with his heart, and we life-flighted him up to Boston. Shortly after we (“we” being Matthew and I), got there, the nurses put the pulse ox on him. 42%. They paged the doctor, (STAT!), and the doctor took him straight to the treatment room across the hall, where Matthew coded. (At 3:00 in the afternoon. And you know what that means, shift change.) When I tell you that at least 50 people ran by his room and into the treatment room, I am not exaggerating. I was alone, my husband had stopped at the Inn to leave our bags while I rode in the ambulance. We didn’t realize on the plane that Matthew was dying. We knew that his O2 sats had gone down to 60, and that the nurse decided that the pulse oximeter was broken, so she TURNED IT OFF, but we did not know that he was literally dying in front of our eyes. The nurse and respiratory therapist who were on the plane were useless.
Well, we won’t go into all that. I sat down in the rocking chair in the room and waited. My husband appeared in the doorway, took a look at me, and asked where Matthew was, and what was going on. I told him I didn’t know. Because I didn’t know. I was terrified, thinking he had probably died, because some people started to trickle out of the treatment room with very sober faces. About a minute or two later, someone came out of the treatment room and told us that Matt was “having a little trouble breathing”, (the euphenism for ‘he can’t breathe so we have to do it for him’), and they were going to take him to the ICU. She told us that nobody was allowed in the hallway when a baby was being transported, so we could only stand in the doorway and watch. He was wheeled down the hall, tiny baby on a big gurney, while someone walked next to him pumping the Ambu bag until they could hook him up to the ventilator in the ICU. They told us that we couldn’t see him until he was settled into the ICU. It was a very long wait.
Finally, the doctor, (Mike Freed, is he still there?) came to tell us that they were having a hard time stabilizing Matt. A nurse did come, but took us to see another child who had just gotten out of surgery that day, so that we wouldn’t completely freak out when Matthew got back from surgery. He was never really stable. Major organs were starting to shut down. We knew that emergency surgery was imminent. At 11:30 PM, someone took us back to see the anesthesiologist. We needed to sign consent for Matthew to have surgery. The doctor started to tell us all the bad things that could happen. It was late. It had been a long day. To say we were exhausted is an understatement. The doctor started his schpiel. I stopped him in mid-sentence. I said to him, “you’re going to tell us about all the bad things that can happen in surgery, right?” He said, “right”. I said, “and you’re going to tell us that Matthew could die or lots of other bad things, right?” He said, “right”. So I said, “But you’re going to need to do open-heart surgery on Matthew, and he needs to be asleep when you do that, right?” You guessed it, he said, “right”. So I said, “please give us the papers so we can sign. We know bad things can happen. We just don’t want to hear about all the bad things.” I probably wasn’t as rude as that might’ve sounded, but it’s essentially what I remember 25 years later.
As you might remember, because I’ve mentioned him before to you, he is a healthy 25 year old… today. It’s his birthday. I kind of woke up crying a little, remembering all the trauma, to him and to us as a family.
He ended up having 3 more surgeries, one of them when he was 14 years old. He did great! Was home in 5 days from that one.
Those first year memories, especially today, seem like yesterday. Obviously, the joy that is Matthew supercedes all of these terrible memories. I went on to have 3 more kids. They have all made my life bigger, and wider. Thank you so much for your blog today. And I hope that you don’t mind my very long response. It’s just that he’s TWENTY-FIVE!!!!!! And it really hit me, like a ton of bricks.
PS.Oh, and that Au Bon Pain? Still there, eh? We used to get goodies for the nurses on our way to the hospital! And I never denied myself a chocolate croissant in the morning-things were bad enough!
Hi Judy, I know that this is Ari’s dads blog, but I just have to tell you that I have true joy in my heart knowing that your boy is alive! I’m a nurse. And your story really hit me. I am moved, almost to tears, and reminded of many situations where I have been involved with critically ill children in the ER. Some survived, some didn’t, and I have been feeling like I have lost my calling. Your story brought back the feelings that I used to have when I first started nursing 34 years ago. It makes me confident that I can do any nursing job with confidence and pride. Thanks for telling your story. I can honestly say that my world is bigger and wider now than it was when I started the day today. And please tell Matthew happy birthday from me…Judy McCarthy
Wow,Judy, thank you for letting me know that Matthew’s story touched you so deeply. You made my day for sure. I will wish him a happy birthday from you! Judy
So glad to hear that Ari is continuing to have lots of beautiful smiles. It is incredible the strenght that children pull out of us so that we are able to meet their needs. A wonderful update and Happy Anniversary to you both and a big squeeze to Ari.
P.S. It sounds like you need a First Nurse working the night shift at your house!
Thank you my wonderful “Son” you’ve touched my Heart, just as Ari has forever touched your Heart. Erica is, indeed, a “Warrior”, and Ari, is your little “Brave”.
Beautifully written, as usual, and made me cry, as usual. Thanks for sharing this with us. As a fellow “heart mom”, I am familiar, to an extent, to what you’ve been through, but you have a way of putting it in words that is remarkable.
I’m a hallway stalker, and met you on 8East (west?) during his last stay. After the nurse let me into the kitchen, I saw his name outside the door. With a name like “Ari”, there is no mistaking him for someone else so I was thrilled that we were able to meet you both! Your sense of humor brought me laughs when I needed them, and it meant a lot to me to be able to thank you in person. Rabbi Harris rocks. I looked forward to her visits, and those mini challahs she would bring from the Motherland. I teared up at your reference from Deuteronomy, and think that is a perfect quote for your situation. Our rabbi came over Friday afternoon to visit. He smiled and said to me while fawning over Isabelle “Now we can start talking about a naming.” It’s those little ceremonies that bring normalcy to a very abnormal situation and I am so happy that in spite of everything, Ari can still have his first lifecycle event like every other Jewish boy.
Hope he is gaining well and the narcotic weans continue to progress!
taylor lydiard ( friend of missy libby ) you never ever cease to amaze with your posts. the love and caring and appreciation of ari’s life and all that are connected with him are seemingly “world wide”. i have the greatest respect for boston children’s hospital. spent many hours there with my daughter earlier in life and always there was deep concern and much love. looking forward to ari’s book. keep the spirit and the light. (and hopefully more sleep for all)
I woke up this morning on my birthday feeling like it was all about me…..then i read your post and remembered WOW there are others out there celebrating everyday as a milestone. Ari reminds me of all the families fighting everyday and celebrating each day -great Birthday gift to me! Always good to get a good dose of realty on your birthday – keeps things in perspective. Enjoy your day!
As everyone has said so many times, thanks for sharing your stories with all of us. You may not know me, but all of you are in my prayers. Thanks again for your updates, and the beautiful pictures of your precious son.
It’s amazing how love has a life of its own. Thank you for sharing your beautiful child and your family struggle with all of us who keep you in our hearts and our prayers.
Thanks, MJM.
you are an amazing family, I read your blogs and as a Mom of two I am so touched by your words! I wish your beautiful little boy much continued Good Health, and you and your wife Good Sleep!! Thank you for sharing your writing!
It was good right up until Ari started a-calllin’ at 5. (He called earlier, but Erica takes the early shifts as I do the late medications.) He’s swinging in the swing now.
Hey Mike, Erica & adorable little Ari,
Thank you so much for keeping us all updated about Ari – whether it was a good day or a bad one – – he’s definitely one little boy that has a whole lot of love and prayers directed towards him….(and also for you and Erica as well)….I pray that the worst is behind you guys and the only thing in y’alls road are a few pebbles and no boulders…..
That smile of his is just amazing – – and boy is he going to have the girls after him as he gets older with those adorable dimples….
I will continue to send lots of prayers and hugs towards the northeast from Houston for your handsome little man…..
Love to you all,
Joanne Jumper
Yeah, the ladies love Ari. Handsome kid. Many thanks, Joanne.
You..NEED to keep writing!!!
Will do, boss.
Thanks for keeping your story going. I too feel you should write a book, wait a minute. No, I take this back, our children are much more than their parents, so I am waiting for Ari, the sequel!
There you go. Ari will write the book!
I am so grateful Ari is home. I Pray for his good health and more sleep for you and Erica. 🙂
Sure you’ve heard but the woman who spoke at the DNC about her daughter Zoe. She said “Zoe has a congenital heart defect” — she actually has Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. She spoke about how without “obamacare” she has to worry about Zoe’s health insurance hitting the
Maximum cap. I immediately thought of Ari and realized how important this legislature is. Zoe has insurance coverage but if they pay out 1million in insurance money on her care, the insurance will no longer pay. Until Obamacare made that illegal. I am glad I watched both the RNC and the DNC. I learned a lot. And I made up my mind. My difficult pregnancy and sons’ birth cost $250,000. Without insurance, I don’t think we would have been able to do it. I had insurance and my son is now 4 and Thank God, knock on wood — healthy.
It’s important to know what you’re voting for and against. Sorry for talking politics. God bless.
Hi Kelly. Yeah, Stacey and I connected last year. It was great to see her at the DNC. Here’s a story on how it all came together: http://video.msnbc.msn.com/jansing-and-co/48919130.
Also, we never had lifetime or annual limits on our health care at our company, thanks to smart decision making years ago by my business partner. Nice that nobody else does anymore, too. We would already be over.
Awe. I am in awe of you and Erica. And we send lots of love your way.
Thank you so much.
Welcome.
Speaking of 1) being famous now and 2) Au Bon Pain, I saw you once at the Children’s Au Bon Pain while I was there with my son (also a heart baby). I almost went up to you but figured you’d think I was some psycho stalker. And might get the hospital to keep me away. And since I need access to the CICU to keep my son alive, I figured I better not introduce myself and end up with a restraining order or something. But seriously, your writing is gut-wrenching. Just when I think it’s the funniest thing ever written, bam, new paragraph and I’m crying the ugly cry. You NEED to write a book someday on behalf of all of us heart families. And put lots of Ari pictures in it – that smile is unreal. Btw, we had the same circumcision issue and my son was able to get circumcised with anesthesia a year later, when it wasn’t a danger to his heart/his life anymore. So if you feel strongly about it, there may still be that option in the future. Best of luck as always.
Being stalked at ABP by heart moms happens. (Molly, you there?) Say hello any time. I don’t know if Erica is ready for me to write another book. Maybe someday.
Children truly are the greatest joy in our lives. Healthy or sick there are always problems and there are times we say how about me and my life but you look at that sweet face that we created and know and feel no stronger bond, love and just pure joy. You express it so well , thank you. Love Auntie Pat
When you say sweet face, I’m assuming you mean Jess. George is way more studly than sweet, don’t you think?
I have been reading your posts for a month or so now. Thank you so much for sharing; I pray for Ari’s continued improvement – may his health be as good as his smile is sweet. I pray for strength for Erica & Mike whose love for Ari runs deep and wide.
Thanks, Linda. Really appreciate the continued thoughts.