Hurricane Harvey 2017

Let’s talk about Hurricane Harvey. And let’s talk about God’s way of always throwing things at me at the right time (kidding). Let’s talk about that big black cloud above me. You know, I’ve noticed some friends that I thought I’ve grown close with, back away from me, simply because of all the “life events” I’ve been going through. Maybe I’m just too much for them to handle. It’s been a real big eye opener for me, honestly. They may not realize it, but I literally felt that wall get thrown up into my face. I feel it. And it hurts. It’s almost like being isolated again. Depressed again. The way I felt when moving to yet another new house, new location, new city, new job…

And to make matters worse? These hormones! Well damn, ya’ll…I feel like I’m going through round two of post-partum depression and it’s incredibly heartbreaking and sad to know that those I thought would be by my side, totally aren’t. They don’t check on me. They don’t message me and most of all my daughter asks all the time to play with their kid(s), a kid, any kid (neighbor) and all I can tell her is ” so and so is sick today.” Lies. But what am I supposed to say? “I’m sorry Josie, your mom is pretty screwed up and no one wants to be around her…” or “so and so doesn’t want to be around mommy because she’s too high strung, too anxious and has a string of negative shit happen in her life constantly (for Gods sake-enough is enough!)” I really don’t ask for these things to happen to me. Do ya’ll realize this? I’ve come accustom to the amount of bullshit obstacles thrown my way. And I always step up to the plate with open arms saying “whatcha got?! Bring it! I got it. I’ll get through it! I ALWAYS DO!” And I think I’m quite capable, on my own, to handle them appropriately. Yet, it still always burns a little when those whom I thought would stand by me, no longer do. Especially family. Anyway, not everyone can be like me. And have a giving heart and think “how would they feel if they were in my shoes” type of demeanor. Not everyone REALLY cares…truly. Sometimes there’s just some underlying reason they are friends with you and most of the time it’s NOT because they care about you (job, business opportunity, etc-who knows).

Anyway…I’m so very tired of thinking about these “people”. I am so easy affected and hurt. So so easily. Although, I may not show it…but I am. I’m thick skinned but so very sensitive inside. I’m so very tired of being sad and disappointed. And when things come crashing down I re-evaluate everything. From lost family, to lost siblings over absolute nonsense to lack of love in our blood system…the “Hubels”. Talk about a bunch of COLD HEARTED PEOPLE! I am ashamed and must bow my head to admit I am part of them, one of them…embarrassing. 

I know how much of a damn good friend I am, could have been and HAVE BEEN to people. And I know those who love me unconditionally can vouch for just how I can be. I love hard. I have a good heart. I’d do anything for those who truly appreciate me and love me for who I am-all the mess of who I am, included. I am a Cancer…that’s what we do!

This didn’t happen overnight…who I am. It was created, built and defined by so many things, experiences and losses. My husband being gone, me becoming the “protector” AKA: SAHM; the pressure, the lack of family, Josie’s life-threatening allergies/asthma and going through post-partum depression (several times over)…alone. Not to mention my own disease, being anemic and iron deficient and suddenly suffering panic attacks. I feel like I can’t crawl out of of bed most of the time. My energy is at an all time low. But the PPD…that shit ain’t no joke ya’ll. Some know and some don’t…the truth. My truth! I am truly thankful for my husband, the ONLY constant in my life. And he doesn’t just do it because he loves me or because I am the mother of his children. He does it because he knows the ME before THIS. He knows the happy, carefree, loyal, giving, loving Stacy. That is who he fell in love with. That is who he begged to give him a chance back in 2006. That is who he pleaded to that he was the one. He promised me the world. I got scared and didn’t trust him. My trust for him took years (2008). Although I loved him since I was 12-years-old…my heart had a wall put up by him that only he himself would break down with convincing. It wasn’t easy, but he managed. And just like I always knew, we are perfect for each other, always have been. He’s always been MY Bobby. And most of you reading this know this. He was untouched territory in middle school/high school (that is, until I moved away). He completes me and I complete him. He and my girls are the best thing about my day. And when I struggled after the birth of Juliette, his words were just enough to help me end PPD for good. He said the right words. He encouraged me to seek help. He took the time to be present and help me, save me. I have him to thank for this, truly. No one else. However, this is an entirely whole other story ya’ll, but why am I bringing it up now? Well, because…I’m going through it again…

How could that be? This is my story about losing baby #4 (or #6 if you’re counting LIVE births)…

With a loss (or birth), PPD can come back. And it’s here because of a potential child inside me that didn’t make it. Did you know that a woman can suffer PPD after the birth of her live child as well as a child that didn’t make it?  Giving birth on a toilet (during a hurricane, might I add), is unimaginable and incredibly awful. There are no words. Because the emotional and physical pain that comes with miscarriage is unexplainable, let me just say that it’s everything you read online. Or on Dr. Google. Or on blog testimonies. It’s no joke. And it’s evil! Not only are you experiencing a traumatic loss, but your body has to dispose of the tiny human (over WEEKS, might I add) AND you don’t end up with a beautiful gummy smiling baby. And you’re reminded daily for weeks and weeks and weeks until it finally stops (the bleeding). You end up with a broken heart, broken dreams and a whole lot of blood and pain. And a train of hormones you have no damn idea what to do with.

During this hard time, I often wonder why my husband hasn’t divorced me yet, because I’ve become such a raging bitch. But that’s just who he is. Patient. Kind. Understanding. And loves me unconditional. Again, thanking God for his grace in this and ability to have someone to tolerate me in times when I’m less then tolerable.

So many of you have been down this road…but never speak of it. 

I have very, very, very few people that reach out and ask how I am doing. Not many, if at all, have asked about me. In the midst of going through the agony of losing our “what could have been baby” as I sit on the toilet and push like giving birth until mostly disposed. Yes, disposed. And you’re probably wondering what did I do with it? Well, I certainly didn’t keep it. I had to flush it, right? I had to say goodbye. My husband had asked as I lay over the toilet bowl crying hysterically, “are you okay babe?” and I ever so calmly responsed (when I thought I was being STRONG this entire time). “No. I’m grieving our baby.” and he so calmly got down on his knees with me and said “I know babe. Me too.” His hug was what I needed. That silence is what I needed. Just that moment in time to say goodbye and come to terms is what I needed. After all, we BOTH lost this child, not just me. 

Did it fix it? No. Nothing will. This is just added to the stock pile of “Stacy’s Miscarriages”. All are different but each equally hurt the same. Although this one longer and most progressed and much more painful requiring pills inserted into the vagina or a D&C…

Looking back now, I wish I would have done the D&C. Oh Lord ya’ll, please pick a D&C if you have a choice. Let my testimony make your decision, please!! I’m REALLY not sure why I didn’t. Timing, being here alone after surgery, taking care of two kids-I don’t know. I tried the pills. I tried them twice. Both times they came out and looked as though they never dissolved. But I was bleeding so I thought it was normal and it worked. I bled for two weeks. Then ramdomly one night, two weeks later while laying on the couch at 10:00pm-ish, I started cramping, very very low into my pelvis and very bad and painful. I thought nothing of it until it started to take my breath away. I joked with Bobby that what I was feeling felt like contractions. I’ve had a natural birth before, believe me, I KNOW the feeling (it’s something I’ll never forget). Well, I got up to go to the bathroom because I felt “pressure”. And sure enough the pain came on full force. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I was shaking, dizzy and nauseous. I kept moaning, sometimes so loud I thought I would scream. Thank God both girls were asleep. Bobby walked outside into the garage for something. I knew I was inside alone and then it happened, with a big push, it came. Stuck in my pelvis with what felt like FOREVER, I screamed for him. Over and over again. “BOBBY!!!!!! BOBBY!!!!” At this point I was breathless…he walked in with a “yup?” so calmly. I scareamed for him again. In other words, I wanted to say “stop being so slow and COME HERE!” but he came to the bathroom as I sit slouched over the toilet, pushing, moaning and sweating. And then it came out. And I felt an instant emptiness in my pelvis. The pain was instantly gone. Just like when I’ve given birth. But it didn’t end there. I wish I could say it did. I wish it would have been that easy. Within 10 minutes the pain returned. I tried to lay on the couch close to the bathroom while holding the heating pad on but I had the urge to keep getting up and going to the bathroom. Where I kept dropping more and more and more. I was able to catch the big stuff. I started getting faint and pale. My blood pressure was dropping. I was guzzling bottles and bottles of water. I was able to see the baby. Our baby-in my hands. I know you’re probably thinking “gross!”…but this was OUR closure. This was our goodbye. Bobby and I hugged each other, we both cried (he not as much as me) and we decided to move on. We were sad. We lost another baby. Our ‘what could have been’. Josie and Juliette’s sibling. It was tragic. It was cruel. This entire process was and is such a cruel, cruel thing for any woman to go through. These images will haunt my mind. Not quite sure I want to risk going through this again. Not to mention, bleeding for a month or so…

Finally I was able to get myself off the toilet, take a pain pill and lay down and piece what the hell just happened. Just like when you give birth, it happens without warning and so quickly, this was how this miscarriage was. Cytotec failed me twice! And if anything, I learned I’ll never go through that again…ever! My body has and always will be a strange one. I knew when I was prescribed it, that it wouldn’t work. Some people would think I was jumping to conclusions or being ridiculous. But I KNOW my body. And my body almost always fights everything.

I’m doing better now. Only the hormones haven’t budged. It feels like forever and I’m “stuck”. I feel sad, mad, depressed and emotional. I’m mean and then I cry. When I’m by myself, I scream obscenities because it feels so good. Especially the F word. Loud. So loud my throat hurts afterwards. I don’t feel like “me”.

…I just want “me” back.

It’s the same ol’ story…everything happens for a reason, right? The pharmacist took my hand in prayer when I drove up to that drive through to pick up the “kill baby meds” (sorry, that’s what I call them). And as I could barely open my eyes (had just left my OBGYN and got the news of a miscarriage), he took my hand in prayer and reassured me that this was His plan. God had better plans. But in that moment I couldn’t help but say “well if he had better plans and different plans why the hell didn’t he do that in the first place? Why this? AGAIN!? Why put me through this again? Is he testing me? To see how much I can take before I snap? Or have I already snapped?”

What hurts the most? Not having any family here. Lack of friends. Lack of support system. People to take my mind off all this sad. My husband traveling 50% (always gone when something tragic happens-of course) and the friends I thought I made and have-that ran for the hills like they have a 5K marathon to finish. When I think about that saying: “everything happens for a reason”, I tell myself that THIS happened as a small way to show me who cares and who doesn’t. Who is a good person and who isn’t. This opened my eyes and also put up walls. Who’s worthy of being in my life? I always think people have good intentions and good hearts, but sadly, that’s not always the case. I’ve had friends go through this shit and have had their group of friends come over without notice and help. Help with their other children. Bring them dinner, wine, or cookies. I hear of friends helping friends so they could nap/shower or eat. Help so they could grieve! Help so they could leave and go to Target and walk around like a ghost with no shopping list, just a mind full of thoughts that needed to be loose. Blast music in the car alone. Scream fuck at the top of their lungs without kids in the car. I can’t say I have that. And even when family comes, I still don’t. And even when my husband comes home, I still don’t. You see-life is so damn busy. I haven’t had the chance to grieve. No chance to grieve all sorts of the emotions that are building up. The anger, the sadness, the frustration, the rage, the happiness, the positive thoughts, the negative thoughts, etc. I NEED to feel these things. I NEED to get through these things. Because if I don’t, I could snap…like you so often hear happening to women going through tough times like this. Right now, I’m pissed. Pissed off that I’ve been dealt the shit stick when it comes to family. None of which give a damn about me. None of which could or would EVER pick up the phone to ask how I am doing. As far as I’m concerned this digs them a BIGGER hole in the already big hole they put themselves in in my life. Pieces of shit is what they are. Selfish, self-obsorbed and FULL OF PRIDE! Never even called to see if we were all okay after the hurricane or this miscarriage. I would never do this. Never. But I truly believe THIS is why God blesses us and not them. I take a look around and see the abundance of blessings we’ve been given. And I believe it’s from the good we’ve shared. Our children are a blessing my family will never get to know. My blessing of a beautiful home, in a beautiful community. A great job-which I love. A husband who shares the same wants and needs as I do and the ability to share this life together whole heartedly. We do good for others, so God can bless us. My family, well…they do nothing, except for themselves. Which brings me to the topic of this blog post…you can keep my inheritance after Grandma’s death. I’d never take something that wasn’t mine. And I’d never want God to have that on his list of things I should have thought long and hard about. Money means nothing to me. Even though we are very blessed where we stand today. As long as I have my kids and my husbands love, no amount of money can buy that.

Hurricane Harvey 2017…

NOTE: THIS IS JUST OUR AREA (Spring, Texas)–the newer, higher elevation area.

What a shit storm, ya’ll. No joke. This massive monster came through and tore up our community around us. And again, I have to say, God had our backs. He was watching and he was protecting us as a community. How can I ever be so thankful to be one of the few (such a SMALL percentage) to make it though this mess without anything horrible happening? Without damage? …but we did.

So even though we may have lost power for 19 hours at most (so what, we had a generator) and lost water for 4 days + (so what, we have water bottles), this is a teeny tiny small blip of a setback compared to those around us who’ve lost everything and have devastation consume their lives and completely steal everything from them that they’ve worked so hard for. Their homes, their cars, and everything in between. Unsalvagable items. Mold grows just as fast as that water rises. It soaks in, it breeds and as soon as the warmth hits-that’s all it takes. So there is no “lets wait for the water to recede and we are okay.” No. It doesn’t end there ya’ll. It NEEDS to be gutted and replaced. The labor intensive days ahead for these people are endless. They see no end in sight. But their strength is what makes us whole as a community. We are Texas Strong. The love and concern these neighbors and business owners have showed is something I’ve never seen or heard of in my life. I cannot believe the feeling of “United” I felt. There were no politics, race, ethnicity, or gender disagreements. We all were there for each other, regardless. And it continues today, as it’s not over for our community. We have a long road of recovery here. We were shocked and our communities were rocked with devastation that will take years to fix (if fixable). Downtown Houston is STILL underwater. Could you imagine the amount to fix local businesses, homes and the amount of families with just the clothes on their backs and NOTHING to show for their lifetime of working so hard for what they own? It’s unfathomable. It’s surreal. The needs for love, support and donations is never ending. Just because Harvey is gone, doesn’t meant it ends there. This is just the beginning of this nightmare. My heart hurts for those…all of those affected. Bobby and I tried our best to contribute. We went and spent hundreds on food, water and baby supplies to those in need closer to our community. It’s our God-given job! We were so lucky, so blessed and so GRATEFUL that it didn’t hit our home. My heart felt like we had to so something, anything, to help. Even though we cannot fix what has been done. We can certainty touch some hearts and make ourselves available to any and all that need us. We donated a ton of stuff. I went thought this house over the last week and gave away a toddler bed, mattress, sheets, clothes, tons and tons of toys, books and food. Lots and lots of love ya’ll. Reassurance that I am here if needed. I’ve donated money to people who have PayPal, Venmo, and GoFundMe accounts. I wish we could do more. I really, really, do. The feeling of helplessness is painful. All I can do is continue to pray for all those around us. It may have divided people from their homes, but it didn’t divide us as a community…family, group of people willing and wanting to always help one another. This tragic event truly showed true colors. It brought people together. Together like family. A Texas Family! Just like my own personal tragic events described above, it showed me peoples true colors. Sometimes, that’s really God’s only plan in all of this…to open your eyes to reality.

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Flashback: The Day Josie Became My Allergic Child

February 5, 2015:

It was a normal day in our home. I was sitting, pumping while Josie was sitting on the couch next to me, playing with her toys. She seemed so interested in what I was eating. “This child has yet to be interested in any food”, I thought. Every single time I’d attempt to feed her she would refuse it. She couldn’t even tolerate a simple glass jar of baby food. She’d vomit it back up an hour later.

So when I finished pumping, I decided to shove a tiny piece of my egg bake into her mouth and, well, the rest was history…

What I managed to push into her mouth was itty bitty teeny tiny bit. I honestly didn’t even think I got any in her mouth or that she swallowed any…

But she did…

Here was my post on Facebook that day:

“I’m at the Pediatrics. Josie had a severe allergic reaction. It was either eggs or feta cheese. It was a super tiny teeny little bit that made it inside her mouth. (My egg whites, spinach and feta bake). She immediately got red and itchy around the mouth and looked like little bites. And then she threw up and went poop. Within 45 minutes she was red all over and screaming. I almost took her to the ER. Now I’m here. I’m a mess. What did I do? Has anyone experienced this!? I never want to feed her foods ever again.”
While at the pedi, she started to desat. They had a lot of trouble getting a reading on her and when they finally did it was really low. Super low. 80%. She was pale in the lips and tips of her fingers/toes. I had no idea what was going on. But looking back now, she should have, without hesitation, been given Epi from that doctor! She had all the symptoms (not just TWO). But had I known then what I know now, things would have went a lot different that day. We spent 4 hours in that office while they monitored her oxygen.
That was the day I became Josie’s advocate. When I stopped trusting any and all doctors and what they had to say or prescribe. That was the day I turned into her hyper-vigilant, anxiety stricken mother. Her protector. Forever. This day changed both of our lives. It changed our family. It changed everything. Because little did I know then, that she’d be allergic to so much more…
Here is a photo of her before they sent us home. She was still very lethargic and red. But not nearly as red as she was when we got there 4 hours prior. She was full of vomit and completely exhausted. Josie was never one to cuddle up into my neck like that. But she was scared…this was the first for her.
(Side note: she totally looks like Juliette here, right?)
After that was all said and done, I scheduled allergy testing to be done. A swallow evaluation. A barium swallow, a GI consult. An EGD was recommended on my 10 month old (what????-absolutely not happening on my watch!), a nutritionist, a speech therapist and an allergy and immunology physician.
I was going into this blind. I had no idea what I was doing or what I was getting myself into. Most of these consults were a big waste of time. Until we discovered that her lack of eating/interest in food was basically because she knew it was poison to her. Smart girl. Terrible mommy. I should have known better. Especially to give 2 of the top 8 allergens together at once (for real, Stacy?!).
Just like today, when she was skin tested back then, her skin only took seconds to react. They didn’t even have to wait the full time to see if “maybe” there was a reaction. It was, without a doubt, positive. And this is what I posted on Facebook that day:
March 25, 2015:
“Sad momma here. My poor baby is allergic to dairy, eggs and casein (so far).”
And this journey and struggle continues. This was only the beginning. SO much more has happened since that day.
Screw you, food allergies!!!

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This is OUR Lifestyle…

The allergist in Austin a few weeks ago, told me that if Josie has open eczema sores (which she does) on her body then that is a mode of entrance for food/particles/teeny tiny molecules to enter. This was new to me! I’m constantly learning throughout this journey into what I like to call “tell someone you have an allergy child, and almost guarantee they cut you off as a friend.” (more on that later–but it’s true!). While I have a heart of compassion (I’m an RN), I cannot imagine distancing myself from someone simply because of a medical issue, especially if our kids play well together and seem to just bond on a level I never thought possible.

Since Josie has been diagnosed at 9-months-old, (she is now 3-years-old), my fear of life in general began. Fear of leaving the house. Fear of what’s on that shopping cart. Fear of her touching residue and then eating her own “safe food” and getting contact that way. The fear is always, always, always there. I hate…hate, HATE when friends, family or people I run into just tell me to relax. “It will be okay”. Or when I can’t see my kids at an event, they remind me that “she’s fine.” Right. Because THEY know the first signs and symptoms of a reaction, right? Most people don’t even know the emergency action plan. And most people are completely oblivious that a child with food allergies can die within two minutes if something isn’t done. Most have NO IDEA that just a particle of food can be deadly. Most blow it off as I AM THE PROBLEM. “Stacy is anxious.” “She is too much to handle”, “she worries all.the.time.” “she’s always hovering around her daughter.” “geez, when Josie gets sick, she acts like it’s the end of the world (as my daughters asthma is aggravated and she’s on breathing treatments, struggling to breathe.)” Well let me just say something. Something I’ve wanted to say for a while. Screw you! You have NO idea what I am going through! What I think daily. What my mind is going through. How the WORRY consumes me. And yes, it’s legitimate worry! You have no idea what it feels like to hold your lifeless, blue, gasping to get in just one breath of air child in your arms, while you pray on your knees for God to take you instead! You.have.no.idea! So don’t you DARE tell me that I’m too anxious. Or that you think I’m crazy. Or that I worry too much about MY daughter. If I didn’t look out for her, who would? My child is VERY lucky to have a mother who is so hyper-vigilant. She is SO lucky to have a mother that makes sure her house is clean from top to bottom and no crumbs or loose food particles are hanging around. Keeping her away from functions may suck now, but I’m saving her life, ya’ll! Why can’t people see that? I didn’t choose this! I didn’t ask for this! Neither did Josie! But I’ve so often seen friends come and go because of it. Because of me and because of her. Enough people have walked in and out of her life since she has been born. I can’t possibly handle more. And it’s just a tiny flash forward of how friends are going to walk in and out of her life and break her poor little heart. And that pisses me off!

I don’t claim to be perfect. I’m not even close. But you want to know what hurts? The lack of respect. The lack of just taking my word for it. Treat me like you understand. And if you don’t then piss off. Because I have enough battles to fight in my life right now, the last thing I need to do is justify to a grown adult why I am who I am today. Because I haven’t always been this way. Having children changes you dramatically (right??). Well imagine a child with a disease. An illness. A irreversible life threatening death sentence as easy as a crumb on a table. How would your life change? Would you develop sympathy and understanding for others who are going through the same? Would you hope that friends wouldn’t walk in and out of your life because you are terrified at every meeting, every outside environment, every place that is NOT home? Wouldn’t you hope to find a friend? A friend you can lean on? A friend to tell you “I may not understand, but I am here to listen mama.” Just like the two words, “I’m sorry”, those words have such an impact on me and Josie that you couldn’t possibly imagine the joy of finding the rare people who listen/talk/UNDERSTAND and most of all don’t JUDGE! This is me, ya’ll. I am Josie’s mom first. If you don’t like who I am, then don’t. But I have a good heart. I would do anything for those closest to me. When I love those in my life, I love them HARD. I’m a Cancer and that’s what Cancer’s do! I’m loyal and honest.

And also…family? Where the hell are you? Those who walk in and out of Josie’s life as if she never even mattered? Where the hell did you go? Do you realize she can die at any given moment? Is that what you want to live with? Swallow your damn pride and make yourself available in this child’s life. Because she is a beautiful soul! And you truly are missing out on one wonderful little human! Because when it’s too late, you’ll regret it. And you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your life. Don’t say I never told you so.

So Josie goes to OIT on August 14th. Anything could happen. And when I say anything, check out this story that made headline news just yesterday: Alabama Boy, 3, dies while getting treatment.

…this could be Josie, ya’ll. This boy had asthma, too. So does Josie! In fact, she’s sick right now. Sick with a common cold that all of us can tolerate, pull up our big girl panties and move on with our day. But Josie can’t. You see…her lungs can’t. They are forever inflamed/damaged (asthma). And a cold/virus just exacerbates it. Then she struggles to breathe. She can’t eat, drink or focus. Since not enough oxygen is making it’s way to her brain, she can’t even think straight. Luckily, she has me to know when to listen to her lungs with my stethoscope, give her a breathing treatment and notify the doctor. I monitor her. I don’t sleep. I sit up listening for a cough, a cry or a plea for “mama”. I am her saving grace from asthma and food allergies.

August 14th, we introduce her to dairy and egg. I.am.terrified. I couldn’t possibly live with myself if…the unthinkable.

AND DON’T TELL ME NOT TO THINK LIKE THAT! Again, you have NO IDEA! You would too! You HAVE to think like that. Because it’s realistic. You have to be prepared for the turn for the worse. You have to think of all “what ifs” so if or when that event arises, you can be prepared. I am a critical thinker and I have my career as an RN to thank for that. I’m not going to sit in la la land while I wait for this appointment and act as though she’s invincible. Because it’s clear she’s not (at least in MY experience).

Maybe those who cannot understand can YouTube “food allergic reactions” or “stridor” or “how to Epi your child and when they ingest food”. Maybe then you will get a first hand look at how terrifying it really is. How the complete and utter loss of control is among us moms and dads. Our entire world is struggling to breathe, begging for help from us and we are literally helpless. We can’t perform magic.

Josie now wears an allergy bracelet wherever we go. And she knows not to go anywhere without it on. And she can even tell you what she’s allergic to now.

I’m haunted by this recent story of this poor boy. And Bobby and I are terrified of Josie’s appointment. But do I sit back, shut my blinds and sit in fear? That’s a big huge world out there, people! She’s not always going to have me watching her every move…

So what do we do?

If you want to be a part of Josie’s life, I suggest you step up to the plate. This isn’t about you and I. This is about HER. Any day could be her last, my last or your last. How would YOU react? Would you even care?

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