On Saturday, I helped host a baby shower for my cousin.

It would be the first outing that didn’t involve a hospital trip.

It would also be the first outing where I would be around people that know Evan’s story.

Not people – like my closest friends – who I can cry to at the drop of a hat – but random people that are friends of friends and friends of family.

But, nonetheless, they know me.  They know about Evan.  And they’ve been praying for us – for him.

I was mentally preparing myself for the encounters.  I wasn’t sure how ready I was to discuss Evan.  Wasn’t quite ready then…and not sure when I’ll be.

I’m really good at the “I”m fine” bit.  I say it all the time, put on my happy face, and move forward.  I don’t really think people want to hear my sob story.

Evan’s story is hard enough for me to live on a daily basis.  The fear I have for him, the love I have for him, the hopes I have for him…all wrapped up in my day to day.  I do, sometimes, forget he has a heart condition that hasn’t been repaired.  Or maybe I’m in denial that he has to have open heart surgery and all the serious stuff that comes with it.

I’m quickly reminded how sick he is when I draw up his medications – all 8 of them – 4 times a day.  Or when I pick him up and he’s sweaty…you know…a symptom of “heart failure”…oh so common in heart babies.  Or when I check his oxygen and hold my breath waiting for the numbers to pop up – praying they are within his normal range.  Or when once again, he throws up a feed, and I place yet another call to his on call nurse. I’m reminded all day long how sick my boy is.

So, I was hosting this shower with my sisters and it was a special day for my cousin…who’s like my sister.  She’s been trying for a baby for over 5 years…and God answered her prayers with a baby boy…Evan’s soon to be buddy.

But, I braced myself to encounter family friends who haven’t had a chance to see me since Evan’s birth.  Not quite sure I was ready…but knew the shower was important.

Isabelle was with me – she never turns down a good party with cupcakes.  So, she was a good buffer.

But poor girl…she just wanted to play…not be dragged around all afternoon with me.

So, she left me.

Ungrateful… 😉

And then it started…

The same question phrased in a few different ways…

“How ARE you?’

“Is everything, ok?”

“So….how’s it going?”

All with the same hand on my shoulder, their head cocked to the side, brow furrowed…

And then my response.

“I’m fine.  Evan’s great.  Excuse me…”  With my dazzling smile.

Then, I’d rush off to refill a plate of food or “check” on Iz.

I can’t tell you how many times I locked myself in the office to just breathe.  Compose myself.  Count to 10 to settle my emotions before the tears started to fall.

Holding back tears and putting on a brave face is something I’ve become a pro at.  So much of my false bravery is due to the fact that I don’t want the other person to feel my pain or have to even experience a fraction of what I go through on a day to day basis.  So, instead of unloading on the poor soul – with tears, unapologetic venting of my so called hard life, stress – I just give everyone the simple, “It’s fine!”

I escaped the shower with a bit of drama.  Craig called me in a panic – Evan had pulled out his feeding tube.

And he hadn’t put the it in by himself.

That’s what she said…

Sorry…It’s just too easy…

So, I rushed home.  Worried about my boys.

And then, I walked in.  The tube had found it’s way back in Evan’s gut and Craig checked placement and everything.

Everything WAS fine.

And it really is.

We’re home.  I’m home with my Iz – her imagination running on overdrive, her sass, her attitude, her tantrums…

I’m home with the hubs – my partner in life and this journey – laughing, bickering, kisses and all…oh baby 😉

I’m home with my Evan – who’s growing, who’s smiling, who’s cooing, who’s such a joy despite of the challenges that lay ahead.

There are still days filled with tears and fear.  But, for now…I’m home and enjoying every second of it.

My Evan has shown me that none of us – healthy or not – are promised a tomorrow.

That’s why it’s so important to live for today.

And that’s what we’re doing.

So, today, if you ask me…it’s better than fine…it’s pretty dang great.






  1. So good to hear. Praying for you and your family.