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.

Wednesday, February 13, 2013


I've been staring at my computer screen for a long while now. I feel compelled to say something; I just can't figure out what. So scattered ramblings are on the menu.

Sometimes I can't believe that I'm a grown-up. I guess that sounds a little crazy given that I'm 35, but... I really can't. I can clearly remember being in high school and then in college. I remember having plans and hopes and dreams. I remember having perfect, wrinkle-free skin and knees that didn't snap, crackle and pop when I walked. I remember feeling like I knew everything.

And now... I'm 35. I've gotten married, bought two houses, driven multiple cars, given birth to four babies and said see you later to one. I've done a lot. But at the same time, I still feel like I'm fresh out of college. Unsure of what's next. Scared sometimes.

I guess the one big difference is that now, at 35, I'm painfully aware that I most certainly do not know everything. And I never will, at least not during this lifetime.

And I'm also aware that I can't derive a sense of self-worth from my successes and failures, though of course I do it anyway. I went to a college that placed a high value on success, defined on a narrow spectrum: gaining influence and earning money. Of course it was nice to be kind to others, but it wasn't a true priority for the real go-getters. No, the goal was to build the portfolio, network and generate cash.

Maybe that's cynical. After all, I loved college. It's where I met Adam. It's where I met a handful of lifelong friends. But it is, to a degree, the truth. And it's hard to not look at myself, as a product of that environment, and not feel like a failure. After all, I'm a writer who's never published a book. I have friends who are, by comparison, extremely successful. Me? I'm a mom. And I wasn't even mom-enough to save my own flesh and blood.

I guess that sounds pretty harsh, doesn't it? When I sit in the dark, sometimes I have dark thoughts. I suspect we all do; most of us just don't share them.

Anyway. Valentine's Day is about 20 minutes away. Last year, Adam and I spent our Valentine's Day looking at cemetery plots. It was surreal. That's the best word for it by leaps and bounds: surreal. I'm thankful that we've survived the first year.

But I miss him so.

1 comment:

  1. I'm glad you've survived the first year, and I pray that God blesses the year to come.