I became a mother knowing that it was never going to be a walk in the park. That I would have moments that would make me want to scream, cry, or run away. Maybe even throw up. I knew I would have to "put on my big girl pants" and deal with it, just as my mom and many others have for all of time. That doesn't mean it was always easy, nor does it mean that I always dealt with things so well.
For instance, when Madi was just a little person, (well, littler than she is now) when she would throw up I could not handle it. Could. Not. So Noel was the one that was on puke patrol while I was sitting in another room trying not to lose my own lunch. Luckily, in those first years, she didn't get sick very often and I rarely had to deal with those types of things.
Then came the big heart stuff.. the strokes, the ambulance rides, the endless tests and blood draws. The cardiac lingo kind of slipped under the rug for awhile, and I feel as though the only reason I survived those initial days after Madi was diagnosed with dilated cardiomyopathy was because I was totally and completely numb. Shut down. I honestly can't recall most of those early days, and that's just fine by me.
When Madi had her transplant, I cried rivers of tears. In her room when we got to see her for the first time post-surgery, I almost passed out.
Then, Sydney got diagnosed. And when the doctor spoke the words "Sydney's echo is not normal", I left the room. It was the only thing I could do. I went into the bathroom and laid there, angry at the world (and God), and overcome with nausea and dizziness.
I used to think that I was a big sissy when it came to motherhood. When people would say that I was strong, I brushed it off like it wasn't a big deal. Because, really, what choice did I have? It's not like I would have ever even thought to give up and walk away-not when I knew that my kids had it in them to fight. To live and be happy. When you are a parent, you bear the burdens asked of you for your child. You fight demons, slay dragons, ask questions, give medicine, and chase monsters from the closets. Isn't that what we all do?
But today I was told something that made me think twice about my assumptions. Today, Sydney's cardiologist-a world class cardiologist in the top 1% of his field in the nation-said to me "I think you will have a special place in Heaven; probably at the right hand of the big man Himself." He then turned to the intern that was in the room and said "She just keeps bubbling right along!" and nodded to me. In that moment, I realized something. I will try not to brush off those comments anymore. I have earned every emotional battle scar I have.
I AM strong.
I AM a good mom.
I CAN do this.
I WILL do this.
Today, I left Sydney's appointment with a renewed belief in myself. All it takes are some kind words to change a person's day around, and this afternoon, I was in need of a pick-me-up.
Honestly, Dr. Driscoll's words were probably the nicest thing someone's said to me in a very long time, if ever. They couldn't have come at a better time. It's like God was speaking to me through the doctor, and telling me that even though I have my moments, I've totally got this. Talk about empowering.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Daddies & Daughters
It's been said many a time that a father is a daughter's very first love. I myself have a great dad, and though we have had our moments, I can truly say that there really is a special bond between daddies and their daughters.
I don't know why it is, but sometimes dads are just easier to get along with. (Though you can bet your butt that when I am sick, to this day, I still want my mom!) In my case, I think it had something to do with the roles in our family. My dad worked outside of the house, oftentimes putting in 60 hours a week or more. My mom was the consummate stay at home mom who did it all-and the primary disciplinarian. I think that made the scales tip a little more in Dad's favor-he got to be the "fun one" a lot more than Mom did. (Sorry, Mom!)
I see it more and more with my own daughters. When I am gone for the day and my husband is home with his girls, anything goes. It can be two in the afternoon, and they are still in their pjs, hair untouched by any comb or barrette, bellies full of Pop-Tarts, Funyuns, and cookies. Daddy is the one that turns on the Wii and plays RockBand, to their delight. (He says it's for them, but we all know he really wants to play too.) He can also be easily swayed into getting Culver's for dinner, followed up with a yummy ice cream creation from ColdStone.
I would be wrong if I said that this wasn't head-shakingly frustrating at times. I find myself thinking 'Hey, I get you dressed and do your hair and find educational activities and try to feed you balanced meals and, and, and..' But the girls love every minute of it, of course. And I do think that Madi, at the ripe old age of 6, has started to learn the fine art of getting her way, batting her super-long eyelashes at her daddy. Which is why you will find Noel playing tea party, dressing Barbies, and painting fingernails. (He's actually quite good at that!) He is learning to do girls' hair, even if it does take him what seems like an eon to put Madi's hair in a ponytail. He knows the names of all the Disney princesses, and can probably sing along with any of their movies. Noel's world is one of sparkly pink things, clouds of glitter, and plastic high heels.
They say that when a girl marries, she looks to find someone that is like her dad. My dad and Noel are a lot alike, but in many ways are very different. I don't think my dad would have been caught dead in a tutu, something I have seen Noel do more than once. (Now, if his granddaughter asked him to, that might be a different story.) I would never have asked him to paint my nails-he wouldn't have known what to do with himself. We did, however, sculpt many an awesome Play-Doh creation together, and don't even get me started on our puzzle-building skills.
My dad had two sons after I was born, so he got his fair share of all things boy. Noel, though, won't get that chance, as our two daughters are it for us. Luckily, Madi & Sydney also enjoy baseball, monster trucks, rock music, dirt, and all the stereotypical boy things too, even though they prefer frills and lace.
Good thing Noel wears it well.
The father of a daughter is nothing but a high-class hostage. A father turns a stony face to his sons, berates them, shakes his antlers, paws the ground, snorts, runs them off into the underbrush, but when his daughter puts her arm over his shoulder and says, "Daddy, I need to ask you something," he is a pat of butter in a hot frying pan.
~ Garrison Keillor
I don't know why it is, but sometimes dads are just easier to get along with. (Though you can bet your butt that when I am sick, to this day, I still want my mom!) In my case, I think it had something to do with the roles in our family. My dad worked outside of the house, oftentimes putting in 60 hours a week or more. My mom was the consummate stay at home mom who did it all-and the primary disciplinarian. I think that made the scales tip a little more in Dad's favor-he got to be the "fun one" a lot more than Mom did. (Sorry, Mom!)
I see it more and more with my own daughters. When I am gone for the day and my husband is home with his girls, anything goes. It can be two in the afternoon, and they are still in their pjs, hair untouched by any comb or barrette, bellies full of Pop-Tarts, Funyuns, and cookies. Daddy is the one that turns on the Wii and plays RockBand, to their delight. (He says it's for them, but we all know he really wants to play too.) He can also be easily swayed into getting Culver's for dinner, followed up with a yummy ice cream creation from ColdStone.
I would be wrong if I said that this wasn't head-shakingly frustrating at times. I find myself thinking 'Hey, I get you dressed and do your hair and find educational activities and try to feed you balanced meals and, and, and..' But the girls love every minute of it, of course. And I do think that Madi, at the ripe old age of 6, has started to learn the fine art of getting her way, batting her super-long eyelashes at her daddy. Which is why you will find Noel playing tea party, dressing Barbies, and painting fingernails. (He's actually quite good at that!) He is learning to do girls' hair, even if it does take him what seems like an eon to put Madi's hair in a ponytail. He knows the names of all the Disney princesses, and can probably sing along with any of their movies. Noel's world is one of sparkly pink things, clouds of glitter, and plastic high heels.
They say that when a girl marries, she looks to find someone that is like her dad. My dad and Noel are a lot alike, but in many ways are very different. I don't think my dad would have been caught dead in a tutu, something I have seen Noel do more than once. (Now, if his granddaughter asked him to, that might be a different story.) I would never have asked him to paint my nails-he wouldn't have known what to do with himself. We did, however, sculpt many an awesome Play-Doh creation together, and don't even get me started on our puzzle-building skills.
My dad had two sons after I was born, so he got his fair share of all things boy. Noel, though, won't get that chance, as our two daughters are it for us. Luckily, Madi & Sydney also enjoy baseball, monster trucks, rock music, dirt, and all the stereotypical boy things too, even though they prefer frills and lace.
Good thing Noel wears it well.
The father of a daughter is nothing but a high-class hostage. A father turns a stony face to his sons, berates them, shakes his antlers, paws the ground, snorts, runs them off into the underbrush, but when his daughter puts her arm over his shoulder and says, "Daddy, I need to ask you something," he is a pat of butter in a hot frying pan.
~ Garrison Keillor
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Patience Is...
..Standing at your child's bedside, staring at the monitors.
..Carefully maneuvering chest tubes and wires just to touch their skin.
..Whispering in their ear how brave and strong they are.
..Not being able to hold your baby for weeks on end.
..Holding your breath on extubation day, so hopeful that it will be tolerated.
..Waiting, and waiting, and waiting for her to say something. Anything. And then, when she does, it's...
...wait for it...
...wait for it.. (see, I am teaching you patience too!)
"WOODY!! WOODY WOODY WOODY!"
I could be offended, but then again, who can compete with this guy?
..Carefully maneuvering chest tubes and wires just to touch their skin.
..Whispering in their ear how brave and strong they are.
..Not being able to hold your baby for weeks on end.
..Holding your breath on extubation day, so hopeful that it will be tolerated.
..Waiting, and waiting, and waiting for her to say something. Anything. And then, when she does, it's...
...wait for it...
...wait for it.. (see, I am teaching you patience too!)
"WOODY!! WOODY WOODY WOODY!"
I could be offended, but then again, who can compete with this guy?
Monday, May 14, 2012
Scars
I never thought much about scars a few years ago. They were what they were-reminders of bike rides gone wrong, sword fights with brothers, and run-ins with furniture.
They are not "just" scars to me anymore.
When I look at my daughters' chests, there is a thin line running down the center. Madi's, with almost three years of healing gone by, is a faint white. Sydney's of course, being only 3 weeks old, isn't even at the point where you would call it a scar. It's still a healing incision.
These tiny thin lines speak such volumes to me.
They say "Look at what I have survived. I am a warrior." They act as reminders that life is something to be treasured, and we should never take any piece of it for granted. It's so cliche but then again the best cliches are centered in truth.
I hope that when they are older, Madi & Sydney are not ashamed of their "zippers." That they know that they earned every mark because of their strength, determination, and their will to live. I may be their mother, and therefore biased, but I do believe my girls are perhaps the strongest kids on the planet. No child should ever have to go through what they have, but they have come out (so far anyway) on the other side of it having taught many of us a great lesson. More than one, for that matter.
I have never thought of motherhood as anything less than a blessing. Yes, at times it has been hard to remember. I have often had moments where I questioned my ability to be a good parent.
When the bad days come, and they do, where the kids cannot seem to leave each other alone, and there are toys all over the floor; when Madi is mouthy and Sydney is whiny, when neither child's ears are open to what I have to say, it just takes one quick glance to make me think differently.
I catch a faint white line peeking out from Madi's shirt collar.
I stop what I am doing, for just one minute, and touch that scar.
And thank God that it's there.
They are not "just" scars to me anymore.
When I look at my daughters' chests, there is a thin line running down the center. Madi's, with almost three years of healing gone by, is a faint white. Sydney's of course, being only 3 weeks old, isn't even at the point where you would call it a scar. It's still a healing incision.
These tiny thin lines speak such volumes to me.
They say "Look at what I have survived. I am a warrior." They act as reminders that life is something to be treasured, and we should never take any piece of it for granted. It's so cliche but then again the best cliches are centered in truth.
I hope that when they are older, Madi & Sydney are not ashamed of their "zippers." That they know that they earned every mark because of their strength, determination, and their will to live. I may be their mother, and therefore biased, but I do believe my girls are perhaps the strongest kids on the planet. No child should ever have to go through what they have, but they have come out (so far anyway) on the other side of it having taught many of us a great lesson. More than one, for that matter.
I have never thought of motherhood as anything less than a blessing. Yes, at times it has been hard to remember. I have often had moments where I questioned my ability to be a good parent.
When the bad days come, and they do, where the kids cannot seem to leave each other alone, and there are toys all over the floor; when Madi is mouthy and Sydney is whiny, when neither child's ears are open to what I have to say, it just takes one quick glance to make me think differently.
I catch a faint white line peeking out from Madi's shirt collar.
I stop what I am doing, for just one minute, and touch that scar.
And thank God that it's there.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Evolving & Adapting
I was once friends with a wonderful woman. "L" was funny, gregarious, and loving to a fault.
I lived with L and her family, which included her two children, for a brief moment in my life and it has affected me more deeply than I ever would have thought.
You see, we were inseparable. We did everything together, and I loved her children with a fierceness I didn't know I had in me.
And then I had children. And my child got sick.
All of a sudden, the friendship started to suffer. We drifted apart, and I thought it was just a phase. I never imagined that it would come to the head that it did, and implode in my face.
When you have a kid that has special needs, it stands to reason that there are adaptations that have to be made above and beyond "normal" child-rearing. I guess, though, that L could not handle that. She didn't realize how severe things really were, and thought that my life revolved "too much" around the challenges I faced as the mother of a medically fragile child. Of course, I took great offense to this, and things quickly got nasty.
Now that I have yet another medically fragile child, I know that I did the right thing in standing my ground. In no way did I cause my childrens' problems, and I know that deep in my heart. It doesn't mean that I do not have my moments of mommy guilt, and it surely doesn't mean that I don't have pity parties for myself now and again. (More frequently lately, I have to admit.) But I still miss my friend. I don't get to see her children grow and blossom, don't get to be there when they receive their diplomas. There are no more inside jokes and shared remembrances-they exist only in my memory. And that leaves an ache behind.
I am so very grateful for all the wonderful friends that I have. They pick me up when I fall, hand me a piece of chocolate (cause what good friend wouldn't have chocolate just for this occasion?) and tell me to get over it and get on with it. And I do. I would like to think that I do the same for them. Thankfully, I also have friends with the bravery and tenacity to say if I am being a little self-absorbed, and they snap me out of it.
When you have a friend who has a child that's "different", please take heed: we do want to know what goes on in your life. We do want to hear about your problems, your challenges, and your triumphs. We love to celebrate with you, cry with you, and most of all to laugh with you. We want you to understand that even though things are different in ways, that doesn't mean that we can't adjust and still be the same friends that we once were. It just takes a bit of an effort.
If you have a friend that's going through some tough stuff, make the effort. Listen. Be there. And then tell her about how you locked yourself out of your car this morning, how you think your mother-in-law is the devil in disguise, and how your daughter won't stop wearing her ballet costumes to school. We want to hear it. Trust me. When so much is beyond our control, old friendships become a stabilizing point. An even keel in a sea of turmoil. Our good friends remember who we are deep down inside, even when we ourselves forget.
It may be hard. You may get frustrated. You may not want to ever hear about another blood draw, hospitalization, or medication change again. Listen anyway. Be there anyway. You never know when it might be you that ends up in a place in life that you never imagined.
And in that moment, you will find yourself again. You have your friend to remind you.
PS-L, if you read this, and you may, just know this: I still remember the you that's deep inside. And that L is sorely missed.
I lived with L and her family, which included her two children, for a brief moment in my life and it has affected me more deeply than I ever would have thought.
You see, we were inseparable. We did everything together, and I loved her children with a fierceness I didn't know I had in me.
And then I had children. And my child got sick.
All of a sudden, the friendship started to suffer. We drifted apart, and I thought it was just a phase. I never imagined that it would come to the head that it did, and implode in my face.
When you have a kid that has special needs, it stands to reason that there are adaptations that have to be made above and beyond "normal" child-rearing. I guess, though, that L could not handle that. She didn't realize how severe things really were, and thought that my life revolved "too much" around the challenges I faced as the mother of a medically fragile child. Of course, I took great offense to this, and things quickly got nasty.
Now that I have yet another medically fragile child, I know that I did the right thing in standing my ground. In no way did I cause my childrens' problems, and I know that deep in my heart. It doesn't mean that I do not have my moments of mommy guilt, and it surely doesn't mean that I don't have pity parties for myself now and again. (More frequently lately, I have to admit.) But I still miss my friend. I don't get to see her children grow and blossom, don't get to be there when they receive their diplomas. There are no more inside jokes and shared remembrances-they exist only in my memory. And that leaves an ache behind.
I am so very grateful for all the wonderful friends that I have. They pick me up when I fall, hand me a piece of chocolate (cause what good friend wouldn't have chocolate just for this occasion?) and tell me to get over it and get on with it. And I do. I would like to think that I do the same for them. Thankfully, I also have friends with the bravery and tenacity to say if I am being a little self-absorbed, and they snap me out of it.
When you have a friend who has a child that's "different", please take heed: we do want to know what goes on in your life. We do want to hear about your problems, your challenges, and your triumphs. We love to celebrate with you, cry with you, and most of all to laugh with you. We want you to understand that even though things are different in ways, that doesn't mean that we can't adjust and still be the same friends that we once were. It just takes a bit of an effort.
If you have a friend that's going through some tough stuff, make the effort. Listen. Be there. And then tell her about how you locked yourself out of your car this morning, how you think your mother-in-law is the devil in disguise, and how your daughter won't stop wearing her ballet costumes to school. We want to hear it. Trust me. When so much is beyond our control, old friendships become a stabilizing point. An even keel in a sea of turmoil. Our good friends remember who we are deep down inside, even when we ourselves forget.
It may be hard. You may get frustrated. You may not want to ever hear about another blood draw, hospitalization, or medication change again. Listen anyway. Be there anyway. You never know when it might be you that ends up in a place in life that you never imagined.
And in that moment, you will find yourself again. You have your friend to remind you.
PS-L, if you read this, and you may, just know this: I still remember the you that's deep inside. And that L is sorely missed.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Organ Donation: Myths & Facts
Did you know that April is Organ Donation Awareness Month?
Most people don't.
It's no secret that I am an organ donation advocate, being as my own daughter Madi was saved by organ donation. But what about those that are on the fence? There are a lot of myths and misconceptions about organ donation and the process that brings about transplantation, and they tend to lead people away from consenting to be a donor. We already have far too few organs available for the people that need them, so it's my hope to bring a bit of awareness to all of you, thereby helping you to realize what a wonderful, selfless, and beautiful decision organ donation is.
Please take the time to read the following information, and BECOME A DONOR! ONE donor can save some 60 lives! What a great legacy to leave behind.
"Don't take your organs to Heaven; Heaven knows we need them here."
Myth #1: If I have checked the donor box on my license and I am rushed to the hospital for something, the docs will not try to save me so that they can use my organs.
Truth: Any doctor's number one priority is to preserve life. Medical personnel will do everything possible to save anyone that enters their facility. They do not view organ donors as a means to procure an organ, and in fact do not even know if someone is a donor while trying to treat the person and save their life.
Myth #2: Only hearts, livers and kidneys can be transplanted.
Truth: Needed organs include the heart, kidneys, pancreas, lungs, liver and intestines. Tissue that can be donated include the eyes, skin, bone, heart valves and tendons.
Myth #3: A donor card/notification on my driver's license is all I need to be a donor.
Truth: In most states, hospitals can legally proceed with organ, eye or tissue donation, without consent from next of kin, if you have a driver's license with an "organ donor" designation or have signed up with an organ donor registry. However, it's important to talk to your family about your decision to donate LIFE so they are aware of your wishes and will feel comfortable honoring them.
Myth #4: Celebrity or financial status determines placement on the transplant list, so ordinary people don't get the organs that they need.
Truth: When you are on the transplant waiting list for a donor organ, what really counts is the severity of your illness, time spent waiting, blood type, and other important medical information.
Myth #5: There's a danger of being heavily drugged and then waking up to find you are missing a kidney for a black market transplant.
Truth: This tale has been widely circulated over the Internet. There is absolutely no evidence of such activity ever occurring in the U.S. While the tale may sound credible, it has no basis in the reality of organ transplantation. Many people who hear the myth probably dismiss it, but it is possible that some believe it and decide against organ donation out of needless fear.
Myth #6: My religion prohibits organ donation.
Truth: All major religions approve of organ and tissue donation and consider it an act of charity.
Myth #7: I am too old to be a donor.
Truth: People of all ages and medical histories should consider themselves potential donors. Your medical condition at the time of death will determine what organs and tissue can be donated.
All information provided by UNOS (United Network for Organ Sharing) and can be found at www.unos.org
Most people don't.
It's no secret that I am an organ donation advocate, being as my own daughter Madi was saved by organ donation. But what about those that are on the fence? There are a lot of myths and misconceptions about organ donation and the process that brings about transplantation, and they tend to lead people away from consenting to be a donor. We already have far too few organs available for the people that need them, so it's my hope to bring a bit of awareness to all of you, thereby helping you to realize what a wonderful, selfless, and beautiful decision organ donation is.
Please take the time to read the following information, and BECOME A DONOR! ONE donor can save some 60 lives! What a great legacy to leave behind.
"Don't take your organs to Heaven; Heaven knows we need them here."
Myth #1: If I have checked the donor box on my license and I am rushed to the hospital for something, the docs will not try to save me so that they can use my organs.
Truth: Any doctor's number one priority is to preserve life. Medical personnel will do everything possible to save anyone that enters their facility. They do not view organ donors as a means to procure an organ, and in fact do not even know if someone is a donor while trying to treat the person and save their life.
Myth #2: Only hearts, livers and kidneys can be transplanted.
Truth: Needed organs include the heart, kidneys, pancreas, lungs, liver and intestines. Tissue that can be donated include the eyes, skin, bone, heart valves and tendons.
Myth #3: A donor card/notification on my driver's license is all I need to be a donor.
Truth: In most states, hospitals can legally proceed with organ, eye or tissue donation, without consent from next of kin, if you have a driver's license with an "organ donor" designation or have signed up with an organ donor registry. However, it's important to talk to your family about your decision to donate LIFE so they are aware of your wishes and will feel comfortable honoring them.
Myth #4: Celebrity or financial status determines placement on the transplant list, so ordinary people don't get the organs that they need.
Truth: When you are on the transplant waiting list for a donor organ, what really counts is the severity of your illness, time spent waiting, blood type, and other important medical information.
Myth #5: There's a danger of being heavily drugged and then waking up to find you are missing a kidney for a black market transplant.
Truth: This tale has been widely circulated over the Internet. There is absolutely no evidence of such activity ever occurring in the U.S. While the tale may sound credible, it has no basis in the reality of organ transplantation. Many people who hear the myth probably dismiss it, but it is possible that some believe it and decide against organ donation out of needless fear.
Myth #6: My religion prohibits organ donation.
Truth: All major religions approve of organ and tissue donation and consider it an act of charity.
Myth #7: I am too old to be a donor.
Truth: People of all ages and medical histories should consider themselves potential donors. Your medical condition at the time of death will determine what organs and tissue can be donated.
All information provided by UNOS (United Network for Organ Sharing) and can be found at www.unos.org
Saturday, March 24, 2012
A Birthday Letter to Sydney
My beautiful baby girl, Sydney Jo:
Today you are three years old. I can hardly believe it.
My gorgeous girl, where does the time go?
This year has been a rough one for us, in finding out that your heart is sick like Madi's was. You are such a trooper, though, and nothing is holding you back at all. I pray every day that your heart function will improve and that you can continue to live as normal a life as possible.
You are making such leaps and bounds with your vocab! All your hard work with your teachers is really paying off, and I couldn't be more proud. We will show everyone yet that us Rippy girls are fighters.
It's been so busy in our lives lately-you got to see Sesame Street Live again this winter, which you loved. We were also fortunate enough to get to take you and your sister to see "The Lorax" in the movie theater a couple weeks ago. It was both of you girls' first time at the theater, and we all had a blast. Hopefully that's something that we can continue to do, as well as other events through HopeKids.
The weather has been beautiful here as of late-we even had a week of 80 degree temps in March! You, Madi, and Mama have been having a great time outside. You still love to dig in dirt and get messy every chance you get. You also love to take walks and point out birds and puppies along the way. On days that it's icky outside you like to watch "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" or the movie "Tangled."
Sydney, you have blessed my life in more ways than you can ever imagine. I hope you know how wonderful and special you are to me. No matter how old you get, you will always be my baby.
Love, Mama
Today you are three years old. I can hardly believe it.
My gorgeous girl, where does the time go?
This year has been a rough one for us, in finding out that your heart is sick like Madi's was. You are such a trooper, though, and nothing is holding you back at all. I pray every day that your heart function will improve and that you can continue to live as normal a life as possible.
You are making such leaps and bounds with your vocab! All your hard work with your teachers is really paying off, and I couldn't be more proud. We will show everyone yet that us Rippy girls are fighters.
It's been so busy in our lives lately-you got to see Sesame Street Live again this winter, which you loved. We were also fortunate enough to get to take you and your sister to see "The Lorax" in the movie theater a couple weeks ago. It was both of you girls' first time at the theater, and we all had a blast. Hopefully that's something that we can continue to do, as well as other events through HopeKids.
The weather has been beautiful here as of late-we even had a week of 80 degree temps in March! You, Madi, and Mama have been having a great time outside. You still love to dig in dirt and get messy every chance you get. You also love to take walks and point out birds and puppies along the way. On days that it's icky outside you like to watch "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" or the movie "Tangled."
Sydney, you have blessed my life in more ways than you can ever imagine. I hope you know how wonderful and special you are to me. No matter how old you get, you will always be my baby.
Love, Mama
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