Oct 4th

What a Great Weekend…

Dad has the magic touch. I swear, the boys listen to him. They sleep. They play. They are sweet, good little boys.

Basically, they make Mom look like a liar. 😂

But really… they are both doing well.

I’m almost scared to type those words because after everything we have been through, saying “they’re doing well” still feels like tempting fate.

But they are.

We aren’t living in that same terrifying, minute-by-minute, high-risk world anymore.

Yes, Colton is still on life support. He still has his trach and is still on the hospital ventilator. There is still a long road ahead of us.

But he is doing better.

And one of the biggest things is that he is finally learning how to breathe with the ventilator instead of fighting against it.

His PEEP is down to 8.

His trigger… basically how hard he has to work to tell the ventilator, “Hey, I want to take a breath” is at 0.08 right now. We need to get that number to 1 for him to be able to transition to the home ventilator.

We aren’t there yet.

But we are getting closer.

Getting closer.

Those two words mean more to me than I can explain after all these months.

And then there is the other side of this weekend.

The part that is getting harder to put into words.

Being with Ryan makes my heart happy.

Seeing Riley makes my heart happy.

Being home, even for a little while…makes me remember the life I miss so much.

And then I have to leave….. 😭😭

I leave Ryan.

I leave Riley.

I leave home.

And I come back into the city because my babies are here.

And somewhere between those two worlds,

I break.

I’m the woman sitting on the train at night wearing sunglasses, hoping nobody notices the tears underneath them.

Because I am stuck in the in between.

When I’m home, part of my heart is at the hospital.

When I’m at the hospital, part of my heart is at home.

And no matter where I am, I am away from someone I love.

That might be one of the hardest parts of this entire journey.

I’ve been away from home in some form since January 9th. Almost an entire year of 2026 has happened while we’ve been inside hospital walls.

I miss home.

I miss my husband.

I miss my dog.

I miss my bed.

I miss normal weekends.

I miss my life.

And yet, somehow, the hospital has become home too.

Because home isn’t really a house anymore.

Home is wherever all of us are together.

Sometimes that’s our house with Ryan and Riley.

Sometimes it’s a hospital room with two cribs, ventilators, monitors, cords and nurses walking in and out.

I know there will come a day when this is in the past.

There will be a day when I walk into our house with my boys and I don’t have to turn around and leave again….

There will be a day when the hospital isn’t home anymore.

And someday I’ll look back and say:

I did it.

We did it.

I survived it. We survived it!

But right now?

The surviving is getting harder.

Maybe because we’re getting closer.

Maybe because I can finally see the life we’re fighting to get back to.

Or maybe because after almost nine months, I’m just tired of surviving.

I’m ready to live again.

I’m ready for all of us to be home.

Together.

And for the first time in a long time, it feels like maybe… just maybe… we’re getting closer.

Maybe that’s why it’s so damn hard.

Here’s to a new week.

Small steps forward.

This Sunday nights prayer, as I sit looking out the windows on the train….

Dear God,

Thank You for this beautiful weekend and for how far You have brought our boys. Thank You for every breath, every milestone, every smile, and every little step closer to home.

Please continue to heal Colton and Declan. Strengthen their bodies, protect them, and guide them toward the day we can finally bring them home.

And Lord, please take care of my heart in this in-between. When I’m home, I miss my boys. When I’m at the hospital, I miss Ryan, Riley, and the life I’ve been away from for so long.

When surviving feels hard, carry me. Give me strength for one more day and remind me that You are with us in every step.

Please, Lord, keep moving us forward.

Protect our boys. Protect our family. And finally, when the time is right, lead us home.

Amen.