I miss my friend

I think I mentioned in a recent post that I would tell you all about my friend. Danyelle is her name, and she passed away March 20th of this year. She was only 41 years old, and I loved her. I met Danyelle because we worked together, and our friendship was there from the very first day. She was a beautiful person, and this world is just not as bright without her. She was diagnosed on October 18th of 2007 with cancer. She endured awful chemo treatments, only to succumb to this evil disease 5 months later.

In February her doctors said they could prolong her life, but not cure her. Shortly after that, she ended up in ICU on a respirator. Of course the doctors said she'd never come off the respirator, but they didn't know Danyelle. She's been a fighter her entire life, and she didn't give up, not even in the end. She fought and came off the respirator. For the three weeks she was in ICU, I saw her every single day with the exception of 3 days that I couldn't get there. Most of the time, I held her hand while she struggled to breathe, and talked to her about everyday things that were happening at work and in life. I wanted so much to pray her well again, but God had bigger things in mind for her.

On the last night of her life, I spent a few hours with her and then had to go home. Sweetie was out of town and my mom was staying with me. I got home only to answer a call from Danyelle's husband, Rob, telling me that she was dying. I rushed back to the hospital and stayed with her all night. I prayed out loud for Danyelle, and cried quietly when I realized she was leaving this world forever. My God, how I miss her. She died peacefully just after her daugthers got there and saw her for the first time in 2 weeks. She didn't want them to see her that way, but in the end, she was just waiting to see their faces and hear their voices. She needed her babies.

Now, 9 months after her death, I still can't hardly control the tears. Danyelle was so special to me. I've never had a friend, as an adult, that I could tell everything to that isn't family. My mom and my husband are my best friends and I love them so much, but Danyelle was that connection we all long to make as a grown-up. We could finish each other's sentences, and when needed, we could sit in silence and still understand what the other person needed. I don't think I'll ever find someone like her again. She was more than my friend, she was my confidant, my sister. We could always be honest with each other, no matter what. If I was acting a fool, she could tell me and I was ok with that. And if she was acting crazy, she always knew I'd tell her. We just understood each other. Being around Danyelle made me happy. And now that she's gone, I still have my happiness, but my heart aches in a spot that will remain filled with only her memories for the rest of my life.

Danyelle's daugthers are now MY babies. Shelby is 16, and Shea is 12. I'm not their mother, but I love those girls like my own. One night before Danyelle passed, she told me she expected me to take care of her girls. I have done everything I can to keep that promise, including shopping for bras, and explaining the birds and the bees. I just hope I'm not letting her down. My promise to her will always be fulfilled to the best of my ability.

So, although this might not seem like a tribute, it really is. There just aren't proper words to explain how much I loved Danyelle, and how horribly broken my heart is without her. Someday, I'll see her again, of that I'm sure. Until then, Danyelle, I love you, I miss you, and I'm taking care of your babies.

My baby is growing up.....

Tuesday is Jasmine's 2nd birthday. Oh how the time flies by. She's so big and just getting bigger every day. Today we celebrated her birthday with a "My Little Pony" themed party. She LOVES horseys. Only she calls them "hawsee's". It's too cute. She received lots of really nice presents, and had a great time with everyone. Here's the cake I made with a Wilton shaped cake pan called "Precious Pony". I fudged a bit on the colors, but I think the cake came out great!

The two little circles on the pony's rump are the candles. I didn't think to take a picture of it before I stuck those in there! Jasmine couldn't wait to stick her fingers into that hawsee cake. She ate two pieces, and didn't even throw any on the floor, which is what she normally does with her food when she doesn't want anymore. Guess she liked it!

I can't tell you how much I love being a mother to a daughter. If God hadn't given me Jasmine, I would have been happy and content to be a mother to my beautiful boys, but having a daughter is a whole different dimension. It's like I now have so many new and fun things to look forward to. I love that I can put her hair in pigtails, and that I can dress her up in little dresses and pretty shoes. Mostly though, I look forward to that day when she's a grown woman, and we are friends. Like my own mother and I. I pray that when Jaz is a big girl that we will have that special relationship like the one I have with my own mom. I pray that she'll talk to me about the things in her life that mean the most, and that when she's happy we can laugh together, and when she's sad we can cry together. I can just imagine wiping away her tears after her first broken heart, and helping her get ready for her first real date. I look forward to her wedding day and her first child and seeing the beautiful person I pray she'll come to be. Yeah, having a daughter is such a blessing.

So, Happy Birthday, my sweet Jasmine Faith. I love your little "keesis" when you pucker your cute little lips, and I love your sweet smell after a bath. I love how you wrap your little arms around my leg and say "I wuv yewww Mommy" and how you rub my forehead and say "Sowwy" when you think you hurt me. I love how you want to "hold me" and how you tell me "you a mess". I love you so much, baby girl. My little go-go bebay. Don't grow up too fast.

Pictures, so I don't get hit with BB's bat!

Duke and baby DieselDiesel with evil eyes..lol

My little Diesel butt

Sweetie, Isaiah, Noah, and Duke Isaiah, Noah, and Jasmine

Me and My Sweetie, at a wedding

Noah, Jasmine, and Isaiah, at a wedding

My beautiful little girl...

Death Day

That's what Sweetie calls this day. December 5th. The day he defied death. On this day, in 2004, my husband was shot in the neck by a sniper in Iraq. The bullet pierced the right side of his neck and came out on the left side of his neck/upper shoulder area. It's hard to explain the positioning, but suffice it to say that there is no worldy explanation for why my husband can still walk and talk, let alone is still breathing.

The man that shot him was a sniper in the Al Queada network. He had a man with him that they call a "spotter". The spotter is the guy that looks through binoculars and give coordinates to the sniper so he doesn't miss the target. They were an expert pair. At the very second the bullet was rocketing toward my husband, aimed right between the eyes, he turned to look at an Iraqi kid that he'd seen in a totally different town, a child that he couldn't stand. Then he was hit. I can't even do justice to the story, since when he tells it the detail and emotion are so intense. He had an angel that day. No question. He should not be alive, but God has great plans for my husband, and he's still here because the Lord was with him.

My side of the story is the aftermath. Sweetie called me himself to tell me he'd been shot because the military usually does, but he knew I'd never believe he was alive if they called. I will never forget that day. He waited on the phone for a half hour so I would get to the destination I was going to, so I wouldn't lose it while driving the car. When he told me he'd been shot in the neck, I lost it. I crumpled to the ground on my grandma's porch, in the freezing cold, and just cried. He kept telling me he was ok, but I didn't believe him. I was so....broken. Losing him would have meant losing myself. He defines me. I had two babies at home, and I didn't know how to tell them their daddy was hurt. I didn't even have enough courage to ask him if he was paralyzed. I think the reason I didn't ask was because it didn't matter. I didn't care if he came home paralyzed, missing parts, blind, deaf, disfigured. All I cared about was that he came home to me alive. As long as he was still breathing, we could deal with everything else. As long as I could still touch him, still kiss him, still hear his voice as he held me at night, nothing else mattered.

Once we got off the phone, I went inside. My mom was there with me and my boys and grandma, and I had to look into her eyes, while my babies watched, and tell her that Sweetie had been shot. That day was the scariest day of my life. I didn't have any answers for all the questions, other than to say he was alive. To this day, I can't hardly even type this without bawling like a baby. Everyday I thank God that he spared my husband's life. Everyday I remind myself that no matter what happens, we've already been through the worst.

So, today I am, again, thankful for my husband. I am so in love with him, and I don't care that we deal with health issues or war issues even still. I care only that he's here with me, helping raise our children. I care only that no matter what the day brings, when I go to bed at night, he's there beside me. We deal with quite a few issues because of the military and the time Sweetie spent in the warzone. We deal with health issues that will never get better. We deal with a brain injury that could deteriorate at any moment, and still, there is nothing we can do about it. But I wouldn't trade it. I wouldn't change a thing about our life together, because the key word is *together*. I've loved this man for more than half my life, and I will love him until I die.

Holy batwings, Batman! A new blog post!

I really wish I was better at this, but I'm not. Obviously, right? Sorry I haven't posted anything in like, a year and a half, but life's been busy. And I'm lazy, I guess. Anywho, here's a bit of an update.

My daughter is so wonderful! She is going to be 2 on December 16th, and she's gonna put me in an early grave! Her favorite word is a tie between "fine!" and "shit!" I know, it's so not funny. I totally wish she had never learned that hateful word, but how you gonna keep a kid from saying fine? I'm kidding. Really. We've pretty much got the "shit" word out of her vocabulary, but she said it tonight because Daddy said it, and if Daddy says it, she has to repeat it. She has tons of other words and sentences in her little bag of baby tricks, but I think my favorite is when she grabs my leg and wrinkles her little button nose and says "I yub yew Mommy". My heart becomes mush and I just have to kiss those cute little cheeks. She now has enough hair for pigtails, long enough legs for cute flair-leg jeans, and enough teeth to really hurt if she decides to bite you. She's getting so big, so fast, and my heart is so full of happiness, and so sad at the same time. After all, she's the last baby, and I already miss the her baby-ness.

Noah is doing really well. He's in preschool 5 days a week at the public school Isaiah goes to. It's a program offered by the school district, and it's free! He LOVES school. He told me it was his favorite thing to do, which is great since Isaiah seems to hate school. Noah sports a mohawk right now, and has since the beginning of summer, which he thinks is rockin' cool. The one thing that bothers me: lovenotes. Yep, you read it right. He's 5! When I got home from work tonight, he said "Mom, I gotta show you my lovenotes. They're from Madison. She likes me." OMG. I just want to puke. So, he brings me this monolith of paper, that has cute little preschool pictures on them, and they are all glued shut. He says we have to "hot water" them so we can get them open. As I'm tearing one open, because I have no idea what "hot water" them means, he says "Uh, don't tear them! They're my lovenotes!" Holy crap, they start early!

Isaiah is doing well also. He's in 3rd grade, and aside from a shitty little kid in his class that seems to have it out for him, he's excelling. He's smart, reading at a 4th grade level, and is well liked by everyone except aforementioned shitty kid. And he's growing up. I've been fighting the preteen stage for a while now, but it's getting closer with every blink of my eyes. He's talking about girls a little bit, and wants to be rockin' cool like "everyone else". And he's asked the dreaded "Is Santa real?" question. I'm choosing to be oblivious because I just don't want him to grow up yet. Of course, if he's asks again, I will tell him the truth, but for today, I'm pretending that he didn't ask. I don't want him to lose the magic and innocence of childhood just because some kids at school can't keep their mouths shut. I know I can't keep him a baby forever, but I just want one more year. Until next year, and then I'll probably want that year too, but I'm willing to try and let him grow up. :)

Sweetie is doing ok too. He's had surgery on both of his knees for some pretty gnarly meniscus tears, but he's healing well. His most recent disaster was getting a piece of metal in his eye when he was grinding something. That was an interesting day spent at the hospital. He's almost healed from that too. It's almost like having a fourth child sometimes. Ok, most of the time. But I love him with all my heart anyway. I just have to keep extra bandaids around.

I'm doing well. I'm pretty exhausted since I'm now working full time, attending college full time, and have the 4...er, 3....kids. I just passed my first college class with a 97.6%, so I'm pretty stoked about that. My next class starts next Tuesday and I'm really not as prepared as I'd like to be. I'll have to do some major text reading this weekend and get a paper written that's due the first night of class.

I have some other news, but I think I will save it for tomorrow. It's about my best friend, and it's just too long a story to tact onto this post.

Last thing for now is this: the animal collection. We still have Butter, our St. Bernard. But we've acquired some new furbabies. First, we got a full grown great dane named Duke. He is the sweetest dog ever, and has the neatest personality. He is older, so is really in his senior years, but any time with him is well spent. And second, is my birthday (which was yesterday) and Christmas present. A great dane puppy named Diesel. He's all black with a white patch on his chest and one foot that has all white toes. He's so freakin' cute, and just as sweet as he can be. And of course we still have Blue, the cat. We are a full house!