About Us

Our family of 6 (dad Adam, mom Sherry, big sister Abby and little brothers Isaac and Brady -- who was born on December 14, 2010) joined the ranks of pediatric cancer fighters when our 4-year old son Logan was diagnosed with a dangerous and highly malignant form of brain cancer in mid-August 2010. Logan's cancer journey began abruptly on Sunday, August 15, when his right eye suddenly turned inward during dinner. Twenty-four hours later, we were checking into Children's Hospital Oakland and finding out that life sometimes takes you places you'd never, ever imagine yourself going.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

A Melody

As the big anniversary approaches, I find myself drawn to a song by Brad Paisley. It speaks to me, touches my core, in a way that I can't really explain.

When I get where I'm going,
On the far side of the sky,
The first thing I'm gonna do
Is spread my wings and fly...

I can imagine Logan smiling. Laughing. Flying. Blissfully removed from the pains that plagued him on earth. Free to be the amazing kid he was created to be.

But does he remember me? Does he miss me? Will he know me when we're together again?

I mull those questions a lot. Of course I do. I carried him under my heart for nine months and in my arms for 5 1/2 years. He'll be a part of my soul forever.

Though I can't really answer my own questions, I do believe this to be true...

But when I get where I'm goin,
And I see my maker's face,
I'll stand forever in the light,
Of his amazing Grace.

And that's what matters, isn't it? Above and beyond all the pain and suffering and disappointment and discouragement of this world.

He's there. Standing in the light. And some day, there will be a reunion. And a party, when I get where I'm going. And I live for that, but for now, I live here.

And the intermingling of the blessings that I can see here and the promise of what's to come has to be enough.

And most of the time, it is.

Thursday, January 10, 2013


I know women typically like to keep their ages under wraps, but not me. I turn 35 years old tomorrow. I know some of you are scoffing incredulously and chuckling that I'm still a babe, but you have absolutely no idea how old I feel; how much the stress that I've been under has worn away at my body.

My birthday has the distinction of being not only the last 'holiday' before the one-year anniversary of Logan's passing, but it's also the 11-month marker. On top of that, it's the one that officially plunks me down into 'Advanced Maternal Age' territory. All painful flashes of reality.

Logan spent both my 33rd and 34th birthdays hospitalized, so I never had the chance to be with my entire family on my special day. Not once. That's an icy cold truth, and one that hadn't dawned on me until now: I will never once get to spend a birthday with my entire family.

Despite that, I'm hoping that somehow, in some way, God will allow me to 'hear' from Logan tomorrow. I have no idea how it would ever happen, but I long for it. I'd love to hear his chirpy voice or dance with him in my dreams. I'm just hoping for... something.