Writing has been my release for as long as I can remember. I wrote in a journal when I was much younger. I found it a few years ago and laughed at the over-dramatic non-sense of it. I hope what I write now has more meaning, more authenticity.
When we first learned of Zoey’s diagnosis, I began writing a blog just to keep everyone up-to-date. I knew there were many questions and I wanted to control the conversation. I didn’t want misinformation spread like happens so easily. But I found it very therapeutic. Yes, some days it was exhausting recounting a day of tough conversations or more news, but it allowed me to express just a hint of my inner turmoil.
I’ve continued because it is still healing to me. I know I’m not saying anything remarkable, or anything that hasn’t said before. I’ve just tried to express myself honestly, without too much reservation, in the hope that if another mom who is hurting should stumble upon it, she’d feel comfortable—like I was a friend. And that I wasn’t trying to push an agenda or tell her how she should feel. Just an honest conversation about immense pain—but also about the even greater love we have for our little ones.