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The Soldier and the Squirrel introduces children to the Purple Heart

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and Rocky the squirrel with his backyard friends. This story began as a

blog during my first year in bed after my incident. With much

encouragement, it is now a book and has been placed in the

Ronald Reagan Presidential Library & Museum. Please watch the video

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Tuesday
May282013

The Lullaby That Sets Me Free

I made my way down the hall from my bedroom. It had been weeks since I made the trek downstairs. The Electro Spine Stimulator trial was a success. But it was one of the most difficult experiences of my life.

Life has become a waiting game. A thousand calms before the storms. The pain, surgeries, procedures, the trial. A settling occurs inside my body. Then a wrath comes in like an angry sky releasing the heavens. At times my soul waves a white flag with a hope the war within would subside for just one day.

But then something magical happens at night. There are eyes so wide and pure. Fingers so small and sure. They hold onto mine. They cradle my cheeks with kisses that wipe away the salt from my skin. A mother should be removing her children's fears. But mine take fear and play with it. They throw it to the air I cannot reach so it is something I cannot touch. And I am calm again.

There's an awakening that occurs when all you can do is love. The daily duties are done by others. But there is something I can do now that was so hard to do before. Because life got in the way. I watch my life pass me by. And it is exquisite.

My Emma comes to me to say good night- curling into me so I can put her to bed. In my arms. My eyes often wet from a stolen moment within my core. But she only sees a mother waiting to love. Waiting to sing to her heart from mine. From my heart so full of love for a child who can't see tears. Her hair tickles my nose. Her hand holds onto my arm. I breathe her in so deep. And she will never know. How she keeps me breathing.

My husband gently carries her away to her bed when we are done. And I am renewed. He sleeps. I write. I hear him breathing. The house is silent. I am renewed. Tomorrow I will make my way down the hall. And I will know that at the end of every day there will be hands to hold my cheeks. Eyes that hold my tears, a child that curls into me, and a lullaby that so magically sets me free.

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