Humbled.

This is the only word that I can use to describe the feeling that Lindsey and have gotten from the constant outpouring of love and support from our families and friends. I can hear my mom’s voice tell me “this is what family does” when it comes to supporting loved ones during turbulent times. I can hear my father-in-law’s voice tell us with certitude that the he “is not a religious man, but I firmly believe in the power of prayer.” I can both of my grandmothers’ voices, who I know are stricken with such sadness that Lindsey and I are going through this time, time after time, attempt to instill optimism and hope that Myla will be recover and become even stronger following her surgery. This is just our inner circle of family. Friends, colleagues, and voices from our past have also been heard. It is overwhelming at times, to even think about. I know that there is little else others can do to help Lindsey, Myla, and I navigate our way through this journey (unless one of you has a cure for a VSD or ASD that doesn’t involve open heart surgery…I am looking at you Dr. Lesneski). It’s very hard to answer that question or respond to the “let us know what we can do to help” statement. By sending an email, picking up the telephone, or text messaging, you are already doing what we need. To know you are thinking of us strengthens us.

There is nothing remarkable or heroic about what we are doing (and I am not fishing here). Much like the voice of my mother telling us that “this is what family does,” I will echo that sentiment in terms our situation. We love our daughter. It is because of the enormity of this love that we are forced to do what we have done for her. It is because of this love that we will continue to advocate for her, and its partly because of our support system’s thoughts, kind words, prayers, etc that give Lindsey and I the strength to continue to fight for our magical little Bean.