Joseph and Brian on a nightly visit in the NICU...holding hands. They never co-bedded, but Brian would go visiting!
Bralee...our fighter. Beating the odds stacked against her. She kept a lot of people on their knees praying. The angels (which come in so many forms) watched over her.

Now they hate to be touched by one another. (Joseph {L} and Brian{R})

Brian...he was as jealous with his attention then as he is now

Joseph...I call this my superhero pose. Needless to say he was not feeling like no superhero.

This morning was another bad morning with Brian and separating. He stood, face plastered to the glass of the door, screaming ,kicking and banging his head when I dropped him off.

I stood outside the door, out of sight, ready to cry myself. I know what it feels like to be that child crying. Scared of change and being separated. Also when any of my kids cry, I cringe.

Each one of my kids have a certain cry, you know the one that says, ‘something is not right.’ I hate that cry. I HATE doctor appointments where they have to get shots of any kind. Yes, I know it is for their own well being, but it hurts me.

Their are 2 places that I have spent time at with loved ones that made me look at life differently: 1. a chemotherapy center –the people are full of hope, survival and fight.

2. a NICU- the littlest of fighters I have ever seen. The only voices they have are that of medical professionals and loved ones. Because most of their cries are so faint, they are not able to be heard. It is an experience that will break you down to your knees.

Both of these environments changed me. Helped me to grow. They have a common bond, they both fight to survive.