Be Bold Go GOLD!

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It’s time to… #BeBoldGoGold!

Get your glitter on! We’re kicking off Childhood Cancer Awareness Month with a bang & a sparkle! Throughout September, we’re turning ourselves into spicy, gold human billboards for childhood cancer awareness and want YOU to join us! Welcome to the #BeBoldGoGold Challenge!

HOW IT WORKS:

-You deck yourself out in your gold bling or glitter—jewelry, clothes, facepaint, you name it, you rock it. You head out into a public place. Talk to at least one person about childhood cancer—tell them a fact, like that 46 are diagnosed with cancer every day. The goal is to raise awareness, so talk to as many people as you can & encourage them to take the #BeBoldGoGold Challenge

-Film/photograph your adventure, and tag us in it! We’re reposting submissions to our new #BeBoldGoGold Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter. When you post your video/photo, nominate 3 people to carry out the challenge by tagging them. They have 48 hours after being tagged to get their gold on! Make sure to hashtag #BeBoldGoGold and #RTF.

-At the end of September, we’re giving a prize to whoever goes all out and makes the biggest impact (aka raises the most awareness)! We’ll also have #BeBoldGoGold shirts available to purchase (link coming soon). If you would prefer to donate instead of (or in addition to) the challenge, visit: http://www.theronanthompsonfoundation.com/ & share the link.

The Challenge kicks off August 29th… stay gold!

Announcing our 3rd Annual Gold Party! Buy your tickets before they sell out!!

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I kind of think I might do this one day.

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“Desert Runners” is supporting The Ronan Thompson Foundation during the month of June! The film follows ordinary people pushing themselves to extraordinary limits by competing in 4 ultra-marathons in the most treacherous deserts in the world.

Much like how RTF will never quit on funding for new treatments and defeating childhood cancer, these runners will never quit on their goals.

The film is available for download at http://buy.desertrunnersmovie.com/ Any amount of money you choose to spend over $9.99 will be donated to the Ronan Thompson Foundation for us to pursue our goals and fund cutting-edge childhood cancer research. Enter the code: RONAN at checkout and receive a 10% discount on the film!

If you spend over $11 you will unlock the SUPERFAN PACKAGE and get access to over 30 minutes of bonus content including interviews with the director, cinematographer, executive producer and the desert runner himself Ricky Paugh.

We are so very excited to be a part of this amazing adventure.  Clink on the link below to watch and support RTF! Thank you, Desert Runners for choosing RTF as the charity to support!!

http://buy.desertrunnersmovie.com

The treadmill made me do it.

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Ronan. So, this happened tonight. The usual running around like mad, Poppy is into everything, I’m trying to get something on the table for your brothers to eat before they come home. I have so much nervous energy today that I haven’t slowed down once.  I know as soon as your daddy and brothers walk through the door I will be handing over Poppy to them so I can go and work out because if I don’t, bad things will happen.  At least that is what I tell myself in my head.  I go to my little class where I find myself in a room full of people that I have no interest in talking to, half are doing weights/floor exercises and the other half are on the treadmills while we are getting instructed on what we need to be doing.  I am of course on the treadmill, happily running away while staring at myself in a mirror. My reflection looks sad but determined.

We take turns running at our base pace which for me is a 6.7 speed and 3 incline.  We are told to step it up for 90 second all outs so of course I push myself to the max.  5 incline, 8.0 speed.  I start to run as hard as I can and my heart feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest, but of course I don’t stop.  All of a sudden, I really can’t breathe or catch my breath for what feels like minutes.  Then it happens.

Is this how Ronan felt, right before he died? 

He couldn’t breathe, he ran out of air, oxygen, and probably felt just like this right before he died. 

How could you have let this happen? How could you not have saved him after you promised him that you would? You are the worst human being on the planet. You let your child die and now you just get to continue on with life while he does not? How is that at alright? You should be dead, not him. 

Fuck you. You don’t get to stop and sit here and think about how hard this is and how you want slow down and stop. You keep going because you are not the little boy who got cancer and died.  You get to be here and do this and you don’t get to stop. Ever. 

I stare up at the screen which is monitoring my heart rate and beg for it to come down because if it does not soon, I know I will pass out.  I continue with the torture of beating myself up on the treadmill while flashes of you dying and taking your last breaths fill my mind.  The person leading the class is now keeping a watchful eye on me as I think he has caught on to the fact that I might be over doing it just a tad.  An hour later and I am finished and I somehow make it to my car only to drive home to a house that doesn’t feel like home to me anymore. I head straight for the shower and try my hardest to scrub the images of you not being here out of my head, but it doesn’t work.  I then throw myself in my bed, where I cry the tears for you that I haven’t had for a few days.

Your daddy comes in, asking me what happened.  I ignore him and continue to cry into our mattress. When I finally come up for air, I snap at him that nothing has to happen, for something to be wrong. That I just want to be fucking sad for the one thing that I will be sad about for the rest of my life.  I don’t want to be hovered over.  I don’t want anyone to wipe away my tears. I just want to be left alone.

This is all I can say for tonight. I’ll let my friend, Tyler Knott say the rest.

I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe.

Typewriter Series #690 by Tyler Knott Gregson

There will come a time, a day, a moment when words are not enough.
When the letters hooking to other letters and tying themselves
to each other, the trains of vowels and consonants chasing each other
out of my mouth just won’t do justice to the avalanche that you’re
struggling through.
If this is that day, if these are those moments I will not speak,
but I have no choice but to leave you with these attempts, as futile
as they might be, for words are all I have to offer
and the only currency I believe in:

This is not, and never will be, a goodbye. You should not, and never can
hold onto the should haves or could haves or why didn’t I’s.
The time will come, I promise you, for us all to stop wearing these bodies
atop these souls.  The time of taking one long, full and deep breath
in through these lungs only to exhale it out through brand new lips.
The last light we will ever see through these perfect and beautiful eyes
will be the first light, the exact same and blindingly gorgeous first
light that filters through new irises and shocks our tiny pupils
before we blink. What a gift every single day in between has always been.
What a hauntingly painful and sublimely joyous gift to live, truly live
every single day in between these firsts and yes, these lasts.
Do not carry the weight of all you did not say, the times you did not make
the time or the excuses you made, because there is a secret you must know:
Those that leave us, never do. They see us how we never could and how we
were always so scared to. When they go, bravely stepping into the first day
of their new lives, all they pack into the bags they choose to carry,
are the memories that soothe their longing and and settle their aching bones.
It is we, always we that carries the luggage of regret and burdens of doubt
Somewhere, right this very second, they are beginning their journey back
into love. Somewhere, right this very instant, the first wobbly steps in their
search has begun again.  Somewhere, the only person that truly makes sense to
them, the only person to ever exist and exist exactly for them, is waiting. 

You will hurt.  You will cry and you will be scared. You will miss and long
and ache and look for their fingerprints on the life you’re going to lead
without them.  You will swear you heard, if only for an instant, the sound
of their laughter or the timbre of their voice.  This is ok, and more than
that, this is beautiful.  Hold onto the sadness you feel like a trophy.
Hoist it high above your head and shout to the photo that is not being taken
of you that you loved them, you will always love them and you are proud
of the tears that roll down your face. They live inside the memories that give
shape to those tears and you must never apologize for your sorrow, nor your
joy when it too returns to your days. 

These are the words for those that remain; for all of us and all of you that
are left scrambling and shaking and weeping tears of compassion and joy and
confusion.  These are words when words are not enough.  I say them because I
must say them, because words are all I have to offer besides my shoulder and
my hands and my belief that this is not and never will be goodbye.
Today is and always has been such a perfect day to say goodbye,
and to once again, say Hello.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

 

 

 

Read. Listen. And never say these words to someone who has lost a child. I’ve heard them all way too many times.

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http://stillstandingmag.com/2014/01/6-things-never-say-bereaved-parent/

What birthday?? Let’s run a marathon instead, fucker.

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Ronan.  Today didn’t start out extra hard, but that is how it has ended up.  So much has been going on.  Too much, I suppose.  I made it through my birthday as best I could.  It it any surprise that I didn’t feel like celebrating?  I just wanted the day and night to be over as quickly and painlessly as possible.  I didn’t even let your daddy buy me a birthday gift and he is still talking about it, today.  He’s begged me over and over to please let him buy me some pretty earrings.  He knows if he goes out does it himself, I’ll just return them.  Pretty earrings won’t bring you back and that is still all I want.  NEWSFLASH PEOPLE, I STILL WANT MY DEAD SON BACK AND TIME HAS NOT MADE THE YEARNING FOR HIM GO AWAY.  I still beg for him every single day.  So sorry to disappoint some of you who seem to think because of this thing called time, that my wanting my son back will just disappear.  That because Poppy is here, she magically makes all my pain and sadness something of the past.  She doesn’t.  Yes, she brings back such wholesome goodness into our lives, but my pain is still here and just as present as before.  I sat with your Sparkly for a while on my birthday because it’s a tradition of mine now, 4 years in the making.  I sat across from him as he said, “What did I say, to make you cry on your birthday?” as he watched me wipe my eyes from behind my glasses. I told him that it wasn’t anything that he had said, that I just missed you so much and my birthday seemed to make me miss you that much more. He said he knew and how sorry he was and did his usual, I wish he were here, too. I came home and threw myself into bed for a few hours in the middle of the day and woke up to a pillow soaked with tears that I don’t remember crying, but the black mascara was evidence enough that they had been there.  I survived my birthday but birthdays to me will never be the same again as they just make me very, very sad.

After my very unbirthday, I’m not celebrating a thing, I had to get ready for that bitch of a marathon that I said I was running.  I didn’t really train at all except if you count going for some runs here and there, training. In my mind, I train for a mother fucking marathon everyday by just doing life.  I talked our Bri Bri into doing it with me as well.  She didn’t train at all either but I told her at 19 years old, you can do anything in the world, including running 26.2.  We got up that morning in preparation for the day.  I made us a little food, and we whispered in the dark about how excited we were to run this thing.  I took out a Sharpie and did my usual writing of your name everywhere I could.  I told Bri I was going to do her arms and she could do mine for a little extra running motivation.  I wrote, “Ronan” down one arm and of course “F U CANCER” down the other.  I handed her the Sharpie and told her to do my arms next.  I looked down at my arms after she was done.

RONAN was written perfectly on my right arm and I looked down at my left arm to see the word, “FUCKER” written in huge, black letters on my left arm.

“BRI! You wrote “Fucker” on my arm!” My whispers were no longer whispers.

“I know!” she said.  “I thought that’s what you wrote on my arm!”

“No! I wrote F U CANCER!”

We both were doubled over, laughing hysterically for a good five minutes before we could compose ourselves.  There was nothing I could do about it as the sharpie was not coming off and the car that was picking us up to drop us off, had arrived.  I decided just to roll with the word FUCKER down my arm and to see what added fun it might bring to the day.  Besides, cancer is the biggest fucker anyway.

We got downtown to meet up with my dear childhood friend, Laura who came into to town to run the marathon as she actually trained.  I had a sweatshirt on but told her the fucker story anyway to stop her from crying.  It is an emotional thing to do a marathon for the first time, and on top of that add the reason that you are doing it is for your childhood besties, dead son… well, game over.  Laura was officially a wreck but the fucker story definitely made her laugh and I think she had an even better time, calling me fucker throughout the marathon.  So did the spectators on the street.  The entire marathon I heard, “GO FUCKER, GO!!!” or “F U CANCER” or “GO RONAN!” as that is what we had on on the back of our shirts.  I got asked who you were and I always said, “My son.” I didn’t say, “My son who died of cancer,” because to me that is not who you are and I won’t let that define you.  I was doing pretty well in the marathon until about mile 17 and that was pretty much it.  I hit that invisible wall that you hear people in the marathon world, talk about.  I started walking, grabbed a gatorade that a lady was handing out on the side of the wall and chugged that thing like it was the last drink I was ever going to have.  I waited for my friend, Katie to catch up to me where we walked/jogged/begged for the finish line.  Bri met back up with me at mile 21 and somehow, we crossed the marathon line together, holding hands.  I’ve never been more proud of my sissy in my life.  She is such a little badass in training and I am so honored to be showing her the ropes.

I wanted to also take a second on here to thank all of you who supported me in the marathon by donating, volunteering, cheering or running yourselves.  It wasn’t just Ronan I thought about while doing this, but you all as well.  You kept me going when all I wanted to do was take the short cut, call it a day, and run back to my house.  I love you all so much for never giving up on me and for pushing me to do really hard things, just so I can remind myself that I am capable of overcoming all of the odds even on the days were I still do just want to crumble up and die.  You remind me to get back up and fight harder than I ever have before.  So thank you, from the bottom of my heart for keeping me going as I try my hardest to change this for these other kids who deserve so much better than what they are getting tossed their way.

Oh, back to today and how it was a really, really, really fucking hard day.  So hard, that I am too tired to write about it now, Ro baby.  It was just one of those days where I really felt like I had the wind knocked out of me because I just miss you so very much.  I have to get back to this book writing now.  I’ll try to check in with you in a few days.

I miss you.  I love you.  I hope you are safe.  Sweet dreams, baby boy.

xoxo

An 8 month birthday and 31 month death-i-versary. F U 31 months.

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Ronan.  Thanksgiving is over.  There was no Macegiving this year, as our sweet Macy that saves us on every holiday, could not swing coming in.  She was heartbroken about it, as were we.  We all missed her so very much, but we will be seeing her soon in January which we cannot wait for.  Of course I got all crazy trying to make a plan for Macegiving, without Macy.  After a lot of panicking in my head, crying, and thinking how can I possibly do another holiday without you? I aborted freak out mission in my head.  I made a different plan instead and it was called, “Stop putting so much pressure on yourself because it’s just another day.”  I gathered my thoughts and took some time to think about what this Thanksgiving/Macegiving/Fucksgiving meant to us as a family.  I talked to your daddy about what he wanted to do and what I was wanting to do and we came up with the most non-stressful, no pressure plan ever.  I knew that I wanted to go to Phoenix Children’s Hospital that day for a couple of hours to take around your candy cart, so I gathered up some of my best “homies” and that is what we did.  The hospital was packed, unfortunately.  I was hoping it would have been empty on this holiday as it’s so hard to be stuck in a hospital on any day, but Thanksgiving day just seems extra unfair.  I was glad to be there and it felt good to make so many kids/parents/siblings smile.  Doing the candy cart and handing out gifts is really what got me through the day.  We then came home to a super low-key Thanksgiving that wasn’t so bad and it almost just felt like another day.  We hung out, ate, watched football, and had ice-cream cake for Brianna’s birthday.  You were of course, were missed by us all.

Things seem to be moving at an incredible rate and not slowing down any time soon.  Some how, your Poppy sister is 8 months old today.  How in the world did that happen?  She is getting to be so much fun and your daddy has started calling her, “The Honey Badger” because of the way she is so determined about everything in life.  She is already so feisty and fun and has keeps us laughing a lot.  She has been so good for us all, Ro.  Your brothers absolutely adore her and she has brought back such a positive energy to our entire family.  Needless to say, I don’t know what we would do without her and I am so very thankful for this little gift you have given us.  I’ve said it before, but she truly has helped to save not only my life, but my soul.  Tomorrow, also makes 31 months without you and I still don’t know how that is possible either.  The fact that 3 years without you is approaching soon still leaves me breathless with the hugest pit in my stomach that I am starting to really believe will never go away.

I’ve also been having a really hard time writing this book.  So much so that the other day, I had a full on break down about it.  I’ve been writing a ton, Ronan, but that is it.  Only writing and not feeling a thing, while writing.  Uh, that has not been good for me at all.  Part of the reason I am doing this book is because I have certain things I need to feel while writing as it has become my form of therapy. I’ve been feeling numb and stuck, which has been leaving me frustrated beyond belief. The other night when I was in the middle of one of my pity parties to your Sparkly, I totally lost it and was about to the point where I was not sure what to do or how to fix this problem.  I took a little time out, had a long talk with you and what you would want from all of this, and all of a sudden it all became so clear to me.  I sat down, printed out all of my words and announced to our entire house hold, “I’m starting over on this book.” Liam and Quinn were like, “WHAT?! You can’t start over! Look at all you’ve written!” Your daddy chimed in, “Boys, sometimes that is what happens and we need to just be supportive of your mom.”  I started writing right then and there and I cannot seem to stop.  Finally, it feels right and I am so excited about the way I am doing this.  I am basically just using everything I had written out, as a road map to help me guide me along.  I’m also taking a little advice from my new pal, Ernest Hemingway who says, “Write hard and clear about what hurts.”  That is precisely what I am doing, all while keeping you right here with me.  Thanks for the good pep talk the other night, little man.  I really needed it. Now, back to book writing I go.  I’m sorry for the short update, but late at night is the only time I really get to sit down and write, so I have to focus on this book.

I miss you.  I love you.  I hope you are safe.  Sweet dreams, best friend.

xoxo

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Please join us for a very rocking night with Bret Michaels

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“Hey guys, do you want me to move back in with you?”

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Ronan. Yesterday was a shit storm of a day, emotionally wise for me. I think I spent the day crying for almost 24 hours straight. It’s not enough that I have a dead kid, but sometimes I feel like I am supposed to be saving the world, along with everyone else around me. Most days I can handle it, but then after taking on so much, for so long, I will end up cracking. I had a super intense day of missing you yesterday and I just wanted a day where I could sit quietly, miss you and grieve for you, but I had some other things come my way that I needed to try to take care of. I had a day of feeling like I was doing nothing right, I was hurting everyone’s feelings, and all the expectations that people expect from me… well I just cannot not live up to them. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to live up to them. It’s hard for me to maintain relationships where people expect certain things of me. I will eventually let someone down, and I’m really hard on myself about that. It’s a kind of pressure that is just sometimes too much on top of all of this so instead, I just shut down and go away. I am just trying to do my best and I am fully aware that my best is often times, not good enough for others. I am always sorry about that and this is why the people who I am closest to in my life, know not to expect a thing. It’s really the only way I can do friendships now. They expect nothing and go completely bananas when I do rise up to the occasion and my hard work seems to be paying off. Take Stacy for instance. We had a phone call the other day with Bret Michaels assistant to get everything lined up for something we are doing with him. Bret has been so supportive of you and this fight, and I am so thankful for that.  About an hour after hanging up the phone, I saw I had a message from Stace. I listened to it and she was going on and on about what amazing things I have done, “I am so proud of you. Look at everything you have done, and you just keep going on with more and more amazing things. Ronan would be so proud of you.” I listened to her message, sobbing of course. Her words meant so much as they always do, but on that day especially as the day seemed to be extra hard for me. Stacy called to let me know how much she loves me, even when I can be bratty/hard to understand/crazy/overly emotional about everything related to you; because that’s what true friends do. They don’t want to tear you down, true friends are there to lift you up, especially in times that seem extra hard. For me, those are most days and Stacy never seems to forget that. I am truly grateful for friends like her.

It feels like a lot of people forget that at the end of the day, despite all the good I am trying to do, I am still just a grieving mom. It’s been hard to navigate the people who have come into my life and I’m suddenly having an identity crisis of being paranoid that I have been used and feeling like people have taken our situation tweaked it to their advantage. When it comes to all things  you, your life, your death, and everything that has come after, I am so protective and so sensitive to every little thing. I was driving to the airport to pick up your daddy and I was crying so hard I could barely see the road. I pulled over to take a little break and I also wanted to send CC a little text to check up on her as she was suddenly very on my mind. It turns out she too was having a shit storm of a moment exactly when I texted her. I called her and she picked up, crying too. I couldn’t even talk. “What’s wrong, what’s wrong, what’s wrong! Talk to me!” She yelled into the phone. Talk I did. Or more like the blubbering cry that I have come accustomed to. I could hardly get any of my words out, but she always knows what the huge problem is and why it is that I will forever be crying. I told her what it was that had set me off. I listened to her, listen. She calmed me down, but was still crying herself, therefore, I continued to cry as well. So that’s pretty much what we did on the phone for a good 45 minutes, was talk and cry and talk and cry. I hung up feeling sad for my friend and sad for myself but so thankful to have the friendship that we do. One where she knows I will never judge her and she will never judge me. I think back about going through all of this and the way Charisma treated me. Like her dying little flower that she would let wilt and die, but she would always be there to water it. I think back to the conversations I had with Charisma after you died, Ronan. A lot. They got me through some really dark times. I remember being on the phone with her a lot, always late at night as I would go outside and pace back and forth. “Maya. I didn’t like that last blog post. I’m scared for you. What can I do? Walk me through your head right now.” I would walk her through things and I always appreciated how honest she was with me about how hard this was, to watch me go through. She never whispered about me, she whispered with me. It doesn’t get much truer than that. That is a good soul. That is a good friend. I know she will always be here to whisper in the dark with me, Ronan. I always do this on the phone with her while looking up at the stars wondering if you can see me. Did you see me all those times, pacing like a wild animal, trying to explain to Charisma the method behind my madness? I always felt like you did. How I hope you still do.

We are back in Phoenix. Summer lazy lifestyle is officially over. It was a good summer, but for me, it was a very intense hard summer as well. Some reasons I will disclose. Some reasons I will not. Let’s just say I have been distracted by some very intense things going on inside the cancer world and on a personal level as well. Summer was hard and heavy, but I imagine it always will be. Your Sparkly said it best after listening to all that was going on when he said, “Darling, I’m so sorry you’re dealing with all of this, but you cannot save the world.” I know this be that doesn’t mean I won’t continue to try.

On my last night with your Nana and Papa, I was sitting on the floor with Poppy and we were all kind of watching, “Orange is The New Black,” (my new favorite series that I am NOT embarrassed to say I watched in an 24 hour period) I looked up to see your Nana sitting on the couch and Papa Jim in his chair.

“Hey, do you guys want me to move back in with you?! That would be so fun!”

They both just kind of laughed and Papa Jim said something like, “Oh, yes! Please do!” In his smart-ass voice.

“I really would. You guys are really awesome roommates.”

I don’t think your daddy would be down with that, but the bottom line is, I LOVE BEING HOME. With my family, so much. We are always so well taken care of and loved there. Thanks, Rosa aka, Mom. You are the best mom on the planet and I love you so much. Thanks for ALWAYS loving and never judging. Even when I was at my worst. We miss you and Papa Jim so much already.

Alright, little man. I need to go now. I’ve got another post to post after this, explaining a little about what has been going on in the cancer world that I am just SICKENED over. It’s something we’ve been dealing with for months, but only now am I going to speak very lightly about it. Why can’t people in this world just DO THE RIGHT THING? Especially when it comes to bright minds who are only trying to save the lives of others.

I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe.

xoxo

26 months without you

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Ronan. Today being 26 months without you, made me want to hide in my bed all day long. Your baby sister woke me up this morning at exactly 3:23 a.m., just minutes before you died, to eat. How does she already know everything at just 12 weeks old? How did she know at that moment, I needed a reminder that even though you are gone, you are still with us at all times? She is already so wise beyond her years.

I wanted to hide in bed all day and do nothing but sleep, sleep, sleep. I didn’t. I played with your brothers, instead. I went for a hike with your Papa Jim, your brothers, Poppy and Jady girl. I decorated some trees with your bracelets like I always do when I am hiking or out and about at places I know you would love to be with us.

I’m sorry I haven’t been writing to you on this blog. It makes me so sad that I have so much going on, that it seems to take away time from my quiet time, writing to you. Days are filled with me making sure your brothers are enjoying their summer as much as possible and bonding with your Poppy sister by making her smile and laugh as much as I can. The quiet time I have to myself which is really late at night after everyone is asleep has been spent working on this book. I have been having a war inside my head with myself about it. I swear I am my own worst enemy. I’m constantly doing the second guessing, the what if it’s not good enough, what if I don’t make him proud. A wise little editors words haunt my  head… “Remember, besides having kids, this is going to be the most permanent thing you do in life.” No pressure at all. The hardest part has been figuring out where to start, but I did it. It’s kind of like jumping off of a cliff. Sometimes you just have to close your eyes, follow your heart and take a huge leap of faith. I seem to be finding my words easily and so far, I have not had to go back to reference my blog at all. I’m sure there will come a point when I have to do that, but for now I seem to be doing just fine without having to reread my painful words. I know the inspiration I am finding all comes from you, so thank you once again, little man.

I’m going to keep this short and sweet tonight as I need to get some writing done for a few hours before my eyes fall too heavy to see the computer screen. I hate 26 months without you. I’m so sorry. I miss you so much that it makes me sick. I am doing my best even though I still have days where I just want to close my eyes and go to sleep for a very long time. I can’t do that to you though. We have too many things to get done here.

I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams, baby doll.

xoxo

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