Aug 25th - raw emotion.

Today is hard. Sad. Emotional. And honestly, I’m angry. This is one of those posts I might delete later. But this blog has become an escape for me and something I know I’ll look back on someday, so I might as well lay it all out there.

Ughhh… I got news today that I really didn’t want to hear.

I had been holding onto this hope that Colton could possibly be home by Halloween. Today, I was told that realistically, we are probably looking closer to December. 😭💔

That means at least 10 months of NICU/hospital life… if not longer.

I checked myself into the hospital on January 9th. If this timeline holds, essentially my entire 2026 will have been spent living in or around a hospital. And that is really, really hard to wrap my head around tonight.

So I’m going to say this now because I know people mean well when they ask:

Please stop asking us when the boys are coming home.

We don’t know.

The doctors don’t know.

There isn’t a date circled on a calendar.

At this point, when someone asks, my answer is going to be the end of the year, if not 2027. If they surprise us and come home sooner, then we will have one hell of a celebration.

But until then, please assume we don’t know. And trust me, I promise I will tell everyone when we do.

Because right now, I honestly might snap at the next person who asks me. 😂 And yes, I’m leaving that in here because that’s where I’m at today.

I’m frustrated. I’m discouraged. I’m tired.

Wouldn’t you be?

I’ve been doing this since January. I’ve been away from home. Away from my husband. Away from my normal life. Doing so much of this without my mom, which somehow makes days like today hurt even more.

This past weekend, Ryan and I got four consecutive days together with no hospital and no outside distractions. Four days to just be husband and wife, best friends, and ourselves again.

That is the most time we’ve had like that this entire year.

And now I’m sitting here realizing just how much longer this road could still be.

So, to everyone who keeps telling me you’re going to come visit us someday… you officially have time. 😂

Book the date. Reach out. Come sit with me. Help make this place feel a little less lonely.

Because while so many people have said they’re going to come, the reality is that only a handful actually have. And when you’re staring at potentially an entire year spent in a hospital, those visits matter more than I can explain.

Yes, this is an angry post.

I want it to be.

I want people to see that side of this too.

You see me being strong. You hear the updates where I’m hopeful. You see me advocating, learning, laughing with the boys, celebrating milestones and somehow continuing to put one foot in front of the other.

And I am strong.

But I’m strong because I have to be.

I’m strong for my boys.

The boys don’t need to see this part of me. They don’t need to carry my frustration or sadness. They need their mom smiling, playing, snuggling, cheering them on and reminding them every single day how freaking amazing they are.

And speaking of amazing…

The boys are honestly the best they have ever been.

Declan is doing incredible.

Dr. Porta said it perfectly:

“He is the best he’s ever been.”

And he continues to be.

The things this kid does every single day are remarkable. He’s stubborn. He’s wild. He doesn’t listen to the word “no.” He’s determined to do everything his own way.

Basically… he’s just like his father. 😂

If Declan continues the way he’s going, there is a very real possibility that he could be out of the hospital sooner rather than later. And after everything that little boy has survived, even typing that feels incredible.

Colton is also doing really well.

His biggest job right now is simply to grow.

Grow bigger. Grow stronger. And give those little lungs time.

He’s still such a little nugget, and his lungs aren’t quite ready for the home ventilator yet. Lung tissue takes time to grow and heal, and unfortunately, there isn’t anything I can do to speed that up.

Believe me, if there were, I would have figured it out by now.

I had really hoped we would transition to the home vent sometime in September. Now, it’s looking more like October.

Once Colton gets onto the home vent, we’re looking at roughly another 6–8 weeks before home becomes realistic.

So when you hear me say someday that Colton is officially on his home vent, THAT is when everyone can start getting excited with us.

Until then, we wait.

We grow.

We get stronger.

And we take it one day at a time.

Getting Colton medically ready is only part of it. We also have to have everything ready at home, including home nursing. And the closer we get to the holidays, the more complicated finding and staffing nursing care can become.

So there are still a lot of pieces that have to fall into place.

And that’s where we are tonight.

I’m angry.

I’m sad.

I’m discouraged.

I’m lonely.

I’m exhausted.

And I’m also incredibly, unbelievably hopeful.

Those things can all exist at the same time.

Because somehow, on one of the hardest emotional days I’ve had in a while, I can still look at these two boys and know that they are doing better than they ever have.

They’re busy. They’re active. They’re funny. They’re stubborn. They’re snuggly. They’re loving. They’re adorable. They have personalities bigger than either of them are.

They are everything.

So today isn’t really a post about how the boys are doing.

They’re freaking amazing.

This one is about how their mom is doing.

And today?

Mom is having a hard day.

Tomorrow I’ll get back up, walk into their room, smile at those two little faces and keep going.

Because someday, whether that’s December, 2027, or whenever they’re ready, I’m going to walk through our front door with my boys.

And when that day finally comes, I don’t think there will be words big enough for what it will mean.

Until then, please don’t ask me when we’re coming home. We’ll tell you when we’re home.

How Declan stared at me today…. What’s he thinking??

Colton snuggles…. He’s the sweetest little boy