Carter's first treasure was his beloved Blue Blanket. He took it everywhere and affectionately referred to it as, "Boo Blanky". The term was such a staple in our home that by the time Izzy could speak she called her own purple blanket "Boo Blanky," assuming that's what blankets you loved and cherished were called. She …
Beautiful Contradiction
When I heard the cat scratching on my bedroom door this morning, I stirred. She continued to scratch and I slowly climbed out of bed and let her in. It wasn't until my walk back to bed that I remembered: everything fell a part this week. Within seconds, fear and panic, anxiety and horror washed …
That Which Is Above
The question I get asked perhaps more than any other is, "How is Izzy doing?." I have learned to smile gently and respond with simplicity, "Really well, thank you." Often times people take the question further, "So she's going to be okay, right?" At this point in the conversation I clear my throat and disassociate. …
The Valley
Finally it feels like Fall. My favorite part has been the evenings, as the sun goes down, the sky grows a tiny bit pink and the cool air comes. It is then that I notice the changing of the leaves, notice the many that have made their way to the ground from their homes in …
Empty Chairs
There are some places that embody an almost tangible sadness. Places where the atmosphere is saturated in heaviness. Where it feels like every day is a rainy day with no sign of the clouds clearing. One of these places is a Pediatric Oncology Unit. From the inpatient floor to the clinic for labs and chemo, …
The Journey Continues
Most of you know by now that on July 19th we learned of Izzy's third relapse. The days since then have blurred together, one day seeming to begin before the day prior even ends. I have drifted through these past few weeks on the wings of distraction and emotional distance before finally crashing to a …
The Second Half of Hope
Izzy bares a striking resemblance to me. Her eyes, her nose, even her heart. She is half me and that means her story is half mine. When I look at her life and all that has come from it I cannot help but remember that she almost never was. Izzy almost didn't exist because nineteen …
