“Daddy, do you wanna hear my roar?” That’s the first thing Leo says to me this morning. He roars. Judah sleeps through the majesty of it. We changed sheets and Leo last night. First potty accident since coming home. Spirits are good, though.
Need em there. We’re going in.
It’s good it’s a holiday. I try and think of something profound about mlk and what we’re currently undertaking. I can’t though. Too many people driving the speed limit in the fast lane.
Wonder if they want to hear me roar.
We get to the hospital and check into a new spot. New nurses. No swooning “he’s so cute” this morning. He’s not cute. He’s hangry. And he wants pickles. The heck. All he wants to eat is pickles.
The closer we get to sedation, the more scared. He insists on going home. To mom. To pickles.
I mean he ate like a whole jar yesterday.
We’re here and he’s asleep. Less fear going to sleep this time. We’ll see on the other side.
We’re here.
You and me.
I’ve been tempted to let my fb go back to petty and small. Music posting. Politics sniping. Friends trolling. But we’re here spending time on this fight. Praying together. Worrying together. Laughing together.
The first time you said “praying now” and “thoughts and prayers and love,” this became not my fight. Not Desiree’s and my fight. Not Damien Desiree Peter Johanna Leo and Judah. It’s yours too. You are here with us. And we have needed you. And we are so grateful.
I’ve not responded. There’s so much response that I’m overwhelmed by it. I’m not worried about it either. I know we don’t have to respond yet.
And I’ve been encouraged by you spurring me on to document this time. It’s as much for me as it is to keep you informed.
Next couple of days, as we mangle a new normal out of this messy glory of a life we are blessed to lead, I’ll hold off on the updates and reach out to you, team member, prayer warrior, brother, sister, battle buddy, and friend.
We’re still working on the door to our home. Our hearts are open.
Thank you. We love you.
Love, Them 