Separated at Birth

I am a lucky, lucky girl.

My husband got a card at work today. It was addressed to both of us. From the sister of a good friend of mine. A woman I have never met in person.

My friend had told her about this blog and she cared enough to track down my husband’s work address and send a card.

Inside that card, with a wonderfully inspiring and touching note from a fellow new mom, was a check for $100. When I finished reading the card, tears were falling. Amy, if you see this post, know that I can’t thank you enough for your help and encouragement. You are amazing.

I’m a lucky girl.

A friend from Los Angeles sent me a helping hand in the mail today. She can’t be here but she wanted me to know she’s pulling for me and knows I will get better and our family will one day be completely beyond this challenge. I know in my heart she is right and when I see her next August we will laugh and dance and share stories that don’t involve stables, wheelchairs or adult potty chairs.

I’m a lucky girl.

My husband and I spent last week watching the Republican National Convention. Tonight, we watched Deval Patrick, Julian Castro and Michelle Obama speak. Now, he’s on his laptop, watching an internet video of the man who will get his vote: Gary Johnson.

I’m lucky to live here. I’m lucky I have access to the type of medical care we wanted as we brought our son into the world, the type of care I needed at the KU Medical Center last month and access to the medicine that is preventing blood clots as I sit in my chair. I’m lucky that this year won’t come back to haunt us in the form of a fast approaching life-time maximum health insurance benefit if the unthinkable should happen down the road.

I’m lucky my husband and I can debate our views in our house or on the street without fear. I’m lucky that I found someone to spend my life with who cares about the important stuff. Who works hard for what he believes. And who puts all the money, time and energy he’s got where is mouth is.

I am lucky I will be able to wheel myself to a ballot box Nov. 6 to let my voice be heard. For my future, the Little Guy’s future.

No matter who you choose to vote for on Nov. 6, be informed and be there.