New York City, I couldn’t possibly love you more.


Ronan. I am walking the city streets of New York on the most perfect New York day except I seem to be the only who thinks it is perfect. Even though it’s the end of summer, it is gloomy and has been pouring down rain all morning long. All of the other human beings around me look annoyed by the torrential downpour that has currently taken over their city. I watch as a mother who has a small child but not an umbrella makes a beeline for the McDonalds around the corner to seek shelter. Umbrellas are everywhere and thankfully my little Rachel has provided me with one for the day. I have a meeting to go to, one that is very important and because of this I decide that you are the one who has made it rain just to show me that you are around and you believe in what I am doing. I set out to get lost in the city for a few hours before my meeting so I can clear my head and talk to you. I smile at every person and some random man yells as I walk past him, “You have the most beautiful smile!” I yell back, “Thank you!” as I remember back to a time not long ago when I hardly smiled at all and when I did, it was often forced. My “bullshit” smile as Mr. Sparkly Eyes calls it. He hates that smile, but nobody hates it more than I do.

I close up my umbrella and continue to walk the rainy streets. I want to feel your kisses on my face. They splatter on me and I am suddenly aware that I didn’t wear waterproof mascara today. I quickly push that narcissistic thought out of my head and decide that I don’t care if I end up looking like a raccoon because anything goes in this city. I once saw a man walking these streets wearing only a backpack, shoes, and a sock to cover up his penis. I figure if he could get away with that, I can certainly get away with looking like I’m embracing my inner goth puck rock I love everything from the 80’s and 90’s vibe that the rain was going to provide me with today. My thoughts turn back to that time a few years ago when I was sure I would forever be stuck in a place of not loving myself. One of the many side effects of your death was this thing called “goodbye, self-worth.” Everything about me had been destroyed in the aftermath of losing you. For many years, I blamed myself for your death. I should have done more. I should have taken you to a different hospital for treatment in the beginning. If we only could have found “this” doctor sooner you would still be alive and here today. It has taken me a lot of therapy and a lot of talking to other doctors to come to a place of understanding that I am not to blame for your death. Cancer is and there was nothing we could have to done differently to have changed your outcome. I do know that now, but there are still times when my fucked-up mind tries to convince me otherwise.

With that said I have had to do so much work to find my self-worth again. It is actually never ending work that I know I will be doing for the rest of my life. It is hard, but it is necessary as I don’t want to ever get to a place again of knowing what not loving myself feels like. But Ro, do you know what’s even more important to me than me? Your baby sister who is not so much of a baby anymore. She is 4 and I don’t even know how that happened but it did and she is the most incredible little thing. She is strong, feisty, independent, and full of so much love that at times she makes my whole heart want to explode. I have to love myself for her so that the only world she knows is one where she is capable of doing anything in life. Glass ceilings don’t even exist for her because she has a mother who has already shattered them all. And I will continue to shatter them all for the rest of my life for her. She is my everything.

More on all of this later, little man. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe.




Oh, hello there. I have missed you, too. So I guess I’ll start blogging again.

IMG_0243I am a mother, a bereaved mother, a wife, a lover, a friend, a survivor, a warrior, a pissed off feminist, a rebel with a cause, an activist for many and loyal as fuck. My blood may bleed gold and childhood cancer will always be my number one cause in life, but I fight for many.

I will stand up and speak up when I think something is wrong. I will fight to my death for what I believe in. I believe in equal rights for all. I believe in human rights for everyone. I believe love is love and nobody should have the right to decide what that looks like. I stand by Planned Parenthood, always. I am an animal lover who thinks Sea World is one of the worst places on earth. I am work in progress vegan who just can’t seem to give up raw fish in sushi or cheese. I am a free spirit, tree hugging, half fancy, half hippie, total yogi wannabe who thinks Taylor Swift hung the moon. I believe in the underdogs and that a small group of determined people really can change the world.

If you believe differently than me, I will absolutely respect that. But if you are a racist, sexist, homophobic, bigot, misogynist, nazi, white supremacist asshole, I’m going to need to to unfollow all of my social media pages.

Please do not come on here and threaten me or my family because you see me holding up a sign at a protest for a President that I do not support. Disagree with me, great. Agree to disagree, absolutely. Let’s have a conversation. But to threaten me… oh hell no. I will not stand for that. I will not be bullied. Or called names behind a computer screen. Or have my life threatened. Your words will not make me back down. Or even hurt my feelings because for fucks sake YOU DO NOT EVEN KNOW ME.

I know me. I love me. And it has taken me a long time to get to a place where I love myself again after losing my son. So please, kindly go the fuck away. Your words have no place here. Go find something else to do besides harass a bereaved mother. Take all of that negative energy and channel it into doing some good in the world because I can promise you living a life typing out hateful words behind a computer screen isn’t going to change who I am.

This is me.

Who are you?