Step By Step

Often, when I tell someone our story, they will look at me, shake their head and say, "I could never go through what you went through. You are strong." Or, they will tell me that I am a hero.

The thing is, I'm not strong. I did not chose to go through our trials to prove my strength, to help me grow, to stretch me. I went through what I went through because I was forced.

I had no choice to spend time in Vanderbilt Children's hospital watching my baby fight for his life.

I had no choice to let him go.

I had no choice to drive the hour-long ride home with an empty car seat in the back, knowing there was no one home to greet me.

So no. I am not strong.

I am a woman who cries at night for her babies.

I am a mommy who has lost three of her four children.

I am someone who has been to very dark places.

I am weak.

I keep going not because I have some superhuman strength, but because I must.

It may sound cliche, but I mean every word when I say that it is only through God's strength that I am able to get up in the morning and keep going. The prayers of many have carried me through the darkest hours of my life, and they continue to help. I never really understood or believed in the power of prayer until last year. It was then that I could physically feel them around me, holding me up, carrying me through.

I don't have any strength on my own. I am not a hero, either.

I'm just someone who keeps putting one foot in front of the other, slowly moving through life, step by step.