The girls would come, but HE WAS MY FIRST.

The doctor put him on my belly and I can’t even explain what happened.

The sun exploded.

Time stopped.

Everything that WAS changed.

It happened two more times.

But he was the first.

Everything with Nathaniel is a first.

Today is the day we all celebrate the first time I held this little bit of extraordinary in my arms.

Happy Birthday.

Yeah, we wished "HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, UNCLE JOE" on purpose, thanks to J&V!

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At Babble you can read about more differences between what you’ve done and what you’ve been through.

I lived in this constant fear of my family leaving and not coming back.

There were cards, the kids brought gifts, we tried to celebrate together.

I remember the laughing of the kids.

I hugged them SO tight.

I was very tired, but was afraid to sleep.

I didn’t want to lose a moment of time with my family.

“Sleep, we’ll be here when you wake up.”

I remember Pete reassuring me so I would close my eyes when I needed to.

But I wouldn’t.

Peyton curled up with me.

Rachael laid her head in my arm.

Nathaniel’s hugs were long but never long enough.

They had to go home.

I had to watch them go.

I imagine being stabbed feels like a splinter compared.

I cried until I did finally sleep. The only way to escape the pain of being without them.

Yesterday I got to spend Christmas with my kids.

I was at home and knew that every smile would be captured for eternity.

The kids loved their gifts and I’m glad we were able to give them a little of material joy but I hope they remember that being together is something WE CAN’T TAKE FOR GRANTED.

Then sometimes your kid does something that makes you wonder if it’s possible they were dropped at birth by the doctor.

My 7yo hugged and kissed me and we went through the rituals of bedtime.

“I know what tomorrow is,” she said, with her arms arms still wrapped around my neck.

Thinking she was talking about the dentist appointment she had, I said, “Oh yeah?”

“Two years ago you had your strokes.”

And like that I was swept away in a wave of memories of mother moments.

Putting band-aids on Nathaniel’s wounds.

Braiding Rachael’s hair.

Catching Peyton as she jumped in the pool.

Moments that can never be recaptured.

I’m truly heart-broken to know that two years ago I lost more than my ability to walk or use my right hand.

I lost the ability to dance at my children’s weddings.

I lost the ability to take my daughters to shop for a prom dress.

I lost the ability to drop my son off at his dorm.

My kids will always think about think of me when they buy a house.

I have this anniversary and it makes me think of things yet to happen.

I try to remember the trust that those band-aids represented.

The love in each stroke of the brush.

The faith that I would always be there when they closed their eyes and jumped..

Two years ago I had the strokes that changed everything.

There is so much that those strokes took from me and my family.

There are things that matter the most that can never be taken.

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At Babble I wrote about the ability to make to make every word count

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