After Hannah, Ryan and Abby were born and died, I discovered the world of "on-line" and *met* so many women whom I've connected with. I've shared some of the most personal thoughts and feelings I've ever had with these women and together, we navigated through the tangles of our grief.

In the beginning of my grief and recovery journey, these women were my life-line. As I already mentioned, I shared thoughts and feelings with them that were so intimate, so painful and so raw that only another woman who was experiencing them would understand. Our grief was so new and in a way, we clung to each other with the hope that we could help each other find our way in a world which seemed like it had no way. And although it brought great sadness to know that they also felt such heart-wrenching grief, there was a comfort in knowing that my feelings were "normal" and that I wasn't alone. I came to know these women in ways that I have never known anyone before, or since.

Through the years, most of these relationships have since faded. Sometimes I wonder what happened to the women who were so important to me at such a difficult time in my life. Are they happy? (I like to believe that they are). Have they come to a place of quiet peace with their loss? (I hope that the have). I also wonder if they ever think of me, of Hannah, Ryan and Abby, the way that I think of them and their babies. Because there are still times that I do think them. I cannot look back on the last 5 years without thinking about them~people whom I've never met, but who have touched my life deeply.

I am sad for all these babies and children who never had a chance to experience all the joys, heartaches and wonders of life. But I am also eternally grateful for them. Their brief existence in our world helped bring their mothers and me together. And so tonight I honor all the babies whose lives have touched mine, through the strength and love so freely given to me by their mothers. And I thank these special women for allowing me to grieve openly and shamelessly when I needed too. Your support has helped me to heal.

~~
To: Julia, Scott and Jeremiah; Trevor and Shane; Molly and Joseph; Edward, Olivia and Liliana; West, Rebeca and Keating; Mallory; Liam; and Georgia. Thank you. Although we have never met, in my own special way, I love you.

Second Chances

Mom went for a second opinion with a Pulmonologist who does nothing but specialize in Interstitial Lung Diseases and Pulmonary Fibrosis. Dad went with her and they promised to call as soon as they were ready, but I also knew that it may take a few hours for the assessment and then they may need to process the information they heard, so I tried to stay busy and not think about it.

I knew that if this doctor diagnosed Pulmonary Fibrosis too, then it would be confirmed that this is what she has. I was scared to answer the phone but also couldn't get to it fast enough when it did ring. My heart was in my throat when I heard my Mom's voice because it sounded like she had been crying. And she had.

However, her tears weren't from sadness, they were from hope. This doctor is confident that she does NOT have PF. Her most recent CT Scan showed some improvement with her lungs and even though it wasn't drastic, improvement does NOT happen with PF. He switched up her medications, is sending her to Pulmonary Rehabilitation and wants to see her back in 6 weeks with a new CT Scan. He doesn't know what she does have and wants to give her more time to recover from the Pneumonia before probing further to find out what the underlying issue(s) is/are. She is still very sick and we still don't know what is wrong with her, which is scary. But knowing it's not PF is a huge relief.

As a family, we still have a long battle ahead of us, but I know that we will all buckle down and do whatever we can to help my Mom get through this. Her new doctor thinks there's a chance she may be able to reduce her oxygen levels for most of her activity and daily life. There's a chance she won't, but more importantly, there is a chance she will and that's what we are all focused on right now.

IPF

I haven't posted in a long time because I haven't been able to bring myself to write about all that is on my mind. It's too scary. Too sad. Too much for me.

My Mom is a wonderful woman. If I am half the Mom she is, I will consider myself successful in my parenting. She was an excellent role model for me growing up and she has been an excellent Granny to all of my children. She never forgets Hannah, Ryan and Abby's birthdays and always remembers them with me by bringing me 3 roses (2 pink and one yellow). Joey and Laura both adore her~and why shouldn't they? She gets children. She has infinite amounts of patience with them, enjoys them and spends enormous amounts of time with them.

But, my Mom is sick. Very sick. And if she has the illness that they believe she has, she will not recover. She is home from the hospital (she spent 14 days there, 12 of which were in ICU, with severe Pneumonia) but she is on a lot of supplemental oxygen and she really can't do anything without it, except sit and talk. With it, her mobility is extremely limited. However, worse than her current state is the "prognosis" for the disease she has. It is progressive, and the progression is often rapid. The mean life span from diagnosis is 2 years.

I cannot wrap my brain around this situation. On December 2, my folks joined us for breakfast with Santa at our local camp and my Mom was running after Laura, laughing and having so much fun. On December 12, she was whipping around the tennis court with her doubles partner and won an exceedingly challenging but enjoyable match. On December 22, she was in ICU. How does that happen? Why has this happened?

Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis.

My heart cannot handle this.