Our Fall Family Adventure & Halloween 2017

I have felt like no one has ever been supportive, happy or excited to see our family grow. The only person that came to visit me in Florida was my mom. Most all expected and wanted me to fail. Born and raised in a small town with drugs and alcohol surrounding me and barely making it through high school graduation, I am now a Registered Nurse with a college degree, a wonderful husband, two beautiful daughters and one screwed up childhood memory. And who can I thank for the direction and support that put me through college? Not a soul but myself (and my husband, of course). Because living and learning has made me stronger. I am the one that made a life for myself. I am the one that said “this is not where I will stop”. I am the one that worked my ass off all alone in a city, a state and an apartment all though nursing school, away from my husband just to give us the life we have now. It certainly was a small sacrifice and I’d do it over again if I had to. And God forbid any one of our family members to be proud of us (Bobby and I both). He is a University of Michigan grad with a chemical engineering degree, excelling at his career. Because let’s face it, my husband is great at pretty much anything. I always wanted more out of life ONLY because I wanted children. But I refused to ever have them if they were to grow up like I did. I wanted to give them the life I never had and LOVE them like I was never loved. Educate them like I was never educated. Read to them like I was never read to. LISTEN to them like I was never listened to. Raise them like I was never raised. Support. Love. FORGIVE. And most of all…never, ever, ever, ever DISOWN because of some nonsense bullshit he said/she said crap. My children are my BLOOD! I created them. I gave birth to them. And no matter what phase, no matter what words come out of their mouths in my lifetime (and with two girls, Lord knows I’m in trouble!), my LOVE and job of being their parent and support system will never, ever disappear. Because at this point…my feelings don’t matter. They do. They can say all the hurtful things they want to me, but that will never change my love and make me disown them or wish death on them like my family has me. How could I? My love is so deep for them. I imagine life without them and I just cry and imagine a life so empty. I never really knew love existed until I had my children. Words are words. Yeah, they burn…but life goes on. You only have ONE life to live. I love my husband, but there is NO LOVE like the love for your children!

And as the days, weeks, months and now years pass us by, I become even more and more angry. But also more understanding of my dysfunctional family. The illness that has swept them like a virus. The self-righteousness. The self-loathing. The narcissistic bullshit. The self-fulfuling dependence on someone else to complete them! What ever happened to being able to survive on your own? Being able to make it or separate you from another person? I am grateful that Bobby is who he is and I am who I am. I am me and he is him. We are of one but we are also very much okay without being completely and utterly dependent upon one another. How can one be happy with themselves when they depend on someone else to make them happy? It’s impossible. Luckily, I’ve learned this in life. It’s become part of my strength. And if anyone is living like that, and you don’t realize it now…you will. I know that I can survive without him and that even though I love him with all of my heart and he is my person, my soul mate, my best friend in the entire world, I know I can survive and be my own person. Because my thoughts are my own and his are his own. But we complete each other and are great at being parent’s together and raising a family and a beautiful home. I am grateful to God for giving me that independence and intense strength.

I am grateful to God for making me strong.

Bobby is unique and one-of-a-kind. He’s always so level headed and knows me more then anyone on this planet. I’ve known this man since I was five-years-old. He knows secrets about me only he and these four walls know. He’s my saving grace. He’s literally saved my life ya’ll (you may or may not know that). The father of my children. My one and only. MY ONE AND ONLY.

He is always optimistic. So going to him for constructive criticism is always helpful because either I want to hear it or I don’t. A long time ago, I didn’t want to hear it, because he was right. And most recently, he’s still right, but it’s what I NEED to hear. When I seem to fall in my little pit and cry, he brings me back to reality. Reminds me of the hurt and pain and the words. Ohhhhhh, the words. He reminds me that we don’t want to expose Josie and Juliette to THAT pain…ever. Because he sees it now. The truth. He sees through the lies, history and the pain. The years and years of damage I’ve taken on as a child. The years and years of loneliness and isolation as I was once a child just trying to survive. He sees the truth now and he was brought into that nonsense as I am an adult now.

Bobby is the most patient and kind man I know. It’s been said that a woman usually falls and marries a man just like her father. I can tell you, with certainty, that Bobby is absolutely the complete opposite of my father…how ironic.

So after I texted him my emotional cry, his text went something like this: “I know they all have one thing in common: they are all children.”

He’s always so wise. And so truthful. Whether I want to hear it or not, like I mentioned, he’s smart. When I’m feeling vulnerable and sad, he reminds me of the real situation. And also reminds me that I did what I could (“Stacy, you can only say you’re sorry so many times, what do they need? For you to slit your wrists and write it on the wall?”)…in ALL instances and with ALL those lost family members. “It is what it is. Move on, Stacy. We have our own life now…our own family…”

I’m only mentioning this because this is the time of the year I start to get a little weak and sad.

I suffer from PTSD…

Holidays are here…

I see hummingbirds everywhere I go and everywhere I look…

I miss my grandma Hubel daily…

I still can’t talk about her to Bobby without crying. And all he does is hug me with his big wide chest and open arms. And that’s usually enough to calm me down until Josie or Juliette are crying for mama. But I also don’t want to talk about her. I just want to honor her. In my mind (and I do, every single day). In my heart. In my actions. With my children. With holidays.

Easter will never be the same…ever. That will be the day I lost my “second mother”.

You know what sucks the most? When you look at your children and you see those family members. You see them in smiles, laughs and facial expressions. I see my dad a lot in Juliette scrunched face. But then again, my Grandfather claims that I need to get a DNA test because he truly believes (after all these years) that I am not my dads daughter. Wow! What a way to put the fork in the soul! It sickens me, saddens me and reminds me of what an absolute disaster this has turned into. Thankfully, both girls look A LOT like Bobby…so it’s very rare that I see my family in them. But when I do it almost always stops me in my tracks and makes my stomach turn. I love when I see my Grandma…or my grandpa. Regardless how much hate they have for me. It makes me smile. And someday, in another world, they may be able to see just how cute they are.

Once October gets here, things start to get hard. I’m reminded of my Grandma’s death. Then the holidays hit one after another and I think about my other Grandma’s death just a few months apart from one another. I lost them both that same year last year. It was tough. Recovering from child birth, a new baby, struggling with postpartum depression and losing both Grandmas to almost the same similar disease.

I think about how she died and what happened and how I never got to say goodbye. To either of them. Then my mind wonders on to the next and the next and before I know it I don’t even know how my mind got there to begin with. It’s pure mental exhaustion. All I know is anxiety and heavy breathing takes over. I glance at my FitBit and see my heart rate of 110 and remind myself to STOP. Take deep breaths Stacy. Think of something else. This IS killing you. So I do…

I think of my girls. The joy they bring to my life. The family outings that we so rarely all get to do together because I feel like we’re still trying to unbox and move into this huge house. Hey-we finally finished the media room. That’s something to celebrate, right?

Halloween has never been one of my favorite holidays until I had children. My one bin of decorations changed over the past three years to four bins. I won’t even tell you how many I have of Christmas. (secret: maybe 10 bins+? Yikes!). Christmas is my absolutely favorite. It’s so near and dear to my heart.

Still even now, to this day, the only support system I have is my mom. And I thank her for that. We haven’t always been great as I was growing up, but she’s a wonderful grandma to our girls and always there for me. I talk to her every single morning. I only hope that our relationship grows stronger. She would never disown me because she knows that a child’s love is unconditional.

Recently, we went to 7 Acre Farms here in Conroe with the girls. It was a lot of fun. Juliette is in that weird stage where she wants to crawl everywhere and is not yet walking and absolutely doesn’t want to be held because she wants to get down and crawl (there’s that damn independence!). So most of everything we do lately, she stays in the stroller entertaining herself eating creamies and organic puffs. Time goes by so fast ya’ll. I feel like just yesterday Josie was in that same situation. We couldn’t go on a car ride without those dang rice crackers fully stocked in the car because heaven forbid we run out. She’d eat them over and over and over again no matter where we went. Amazing how similar these two girls are…I truly love being their mama. I love these two girls to the moon and back.

On Halloween, Juliette and I were in the hospital. But Daddy did a great job at handing out candy and also taking Josie trick-or-treating. It was really a rainy Halloween, so it didn’t last long. But I’m so glad she got to experience it. Texas Children’s Hospital also held a very, very fun interactive Fall Festival of games and prizes for the kids and I was able to take Josie there. That was great. We even made the Texas Children’s website! I may look tired, worn and deathly…but I’ve been busy taking care of my 13mo with pneumonia and a chest tube…(another post of that to come).









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.


Josie’s Journey into OIT: Day 1-The Consultation

Today we had our consultation with (another) new allergist for Josie…

It was a 4 hour drive (technically 3 hours) to Austin from Houston…

But after two diaper blowouts in the carseat, several pee stops for Josie and getting gas and coffee, we finally made it. Everyone was a little over it before it even began. It was a long ride.

My nerves are shot. My girl screamed through getting her weight, height and VS (absolutely refused). The doctor was very kind and patient and spent over an hour with us as I cried on and off about a plan and how much guilt I have from her allergies and near death reactions. We are set to start OIT August 14th. I’m totally freaking out. I am so happy with this doctor, but I am absolutely terrified and anxious for the pending thought of actually doing this. I don’t know how I’m going to rest easy up until this day. I need a good distraction. So friends that are local, please help me with this. Y’all that know me, KNOW I’m anxious all the time. But I REALLY need y’all more then ever right now. I’m afraid I’m going to talk myself out of doing this because of my own fears and panic.

THE PLAN: We are doing BOTH egg and dairy at once. The younger in age, the better outcomes. It’s just getting this girl to cooperate and stick to the plan that will be the challenge. How on Earth am I going to get a toddler who hates food to eat this dose for me daily?

BAD NEWS: He did say how much he’s concerned about her numbers. And said numerous times that “her numbers are high. Really high” 😢. But he has a good feeling about this and I’m going to try my best to trust him with my baby.

The first appointment is at 8am. It’s a 6 hour appointment. The waking up early, the drive and the time spent is just a teeny tiny sacrifice we’re willing to make to help our girl.

Let’s remember: THIS IS NOT A CURE. Especially with her numbers, this only helps her NOT to develop an anaphylactic reaction and/or to (in hopes) desensitize her from these foods. But the catch? She’d have to eat them every single day for the rest of her life to maintain that desensitization. Eventually she’d be able to eat these foods but not in high doses like mama can eat an entire cake in one sitting. 😂 (I’m trying to be funny here although I feel like crying). I just want my girl to have the peace of mind that time is on her side if she ever bites into that food.

The plan to tackle peanuts and tree nuts is down the road. Those levels are just too high. And dairy and egg are in everything! I think it’s smart to start there.

WHAT TO EXPECT: This process of desensitization, can take anywhere from 6-12+ months JUST to be able to bite and not react. And all the work is on me. I have to make sure she stays on her doses and sticks to her regimen. And y’all know how I am with regimens. If I’m good at anything, it’s that.

We will travel to Austin every two weeks (to up-dose). At that appointment, they will give her an increase from the two weeks prior but ONLY if I’ve given her the allergen in that small dose at home every day (full 14 days) leading up to that next up-dose (increase in allergen).

I can’t believe we are doing this y’all! I can’t believe it!

I know so many people will ask. And so many have reached out with good vibes and prayers. I appreciate you all. Thank you to those who’ve reached out and those continuing to pray for our Josie girl. I have a good feeling she’s going to be in good hands. And we are both willing to do anything to get this to work.

We’d like to track our journey. And when I say “our”, it’s because it’s not just Josie’s. Although the end result is for her to have a more normal life but also for her to have a more normal mom. I can admit that I had anxiety before kids. But after kids it got worse. But then having an allergy child made it 100x worse. So if she can get well, then so can I. We can both breathe together. I have faith this doctor is going to one day give us all what we’ve been waiting for. This is all in God’s hands.