March 14, 2026
THANK YOU! Thank You! for the abundance of Birthday messages for Tate. She felt so much love from her Tribe and the North crew too. She received anonymous packages in the mail-Thank You! Gifts from friends and family-Thank You! Streamers and mini book balls from her nurses and childlife, a special 3D printed daisy and box from the North gaming specialist, Megan, and ketchup chips from our North PA, Angie (and her daughter,) and just endless amounts of love and the gift of time through so many thoughtful conversations. There were some extra tears associated with this Birthday. Some out of sadness and grief and some out of overwhelming feelings of gratitude for the ability of some to just be so present. We are grateful for it all.
Today, Tate hasn’t made it out of bed and is feeling extra rough. I’m really praying it isn’t a new virus as she’s yet to actually kick out the last one, corona, completely. Tonight after some frustrated tears, and an biggie med cocktail, I lay next to Tate while she fell asleep. And I was struck by the simple beauty in it.
Our kids are never too old to need human connection from us. The power of presence can’t really be substituted. As Tate’s breathing finally slowed, letting me know we were starting to get pain back under control, I was struck by all the familiar things that are so very Tate.
Her Siri in the corner that was softly playing her sleep music, and her favorite sleep mask covering her eyes. She was wearing her favorite Strawberry shortcake T-Shirt-the one that matches with one of her loved (and missed-she moved to NC) nurses, Megan. I could smell the orange peels above my head that we use for nausea that made me think of her orange dates with nurse Rachel and the book I was reading was a recommendation by nurse Taylor, who sat with me for hours late at night long after Tate was sleeping, when everyone was certain Tate had metastatic sarcoma.
Bella dog was doing her old lady snore at my feet in her little bed and Meiko dog was snuggled to my right. Copper dog was lying in the doorway observing all of us. On the other side of Tate is her loved Strawberry jam Squishmallow. I could feel and hear the unbalanced rattle of Tates ceiling fan that’s always on to combat the hot flashes that came with chemo destroying Tates ovaries at age 14. And I could feel Tate’s body twitch as her muscles gave in to the medications. Tonight, all those things mattered and I feel grateful to be so familiar with each one. I wish I could take her suffering away. But I would never wish away the people brought to us through the medical that continue to have a big impact in so many small ways and I would never want to miss all the familiar things that are just Tate. Things I likely would’ve missed if priorities had been different. Take a moment to be present. It’s all the small things that are one day big.