A photo of my arm with an IV in it.

Leaving the hospital always made me feel legit crazy. I’ve sat down three times to write this post but my heart is pounding out of my chest.

It’s been 3 years but writing it all out is making me relive it so much.

Which is fine, you have to talk, you have to be vulnerable. Yes, it means you lose followers and likes, my gosh we’ve lost hundreds just since I started sharing our story again.

It’s ok.

We’ve never been in this game for the fame, it’s always been about sharing, sharing food, sharing love, sharing light.

But I’m distracted.

Or nervous.

Both.

You see, I couldn’t wait to break out of the hospital. To say that it’s lonely and you feel more broken and worse as a momma is an understatement. Up all night with insomnia, nurses constantly in and out to check vitals and take blood every dang day, and come every time you go to the bathroom to check the dang pee cap in the toilet, I mean you feel lower than low.

I appreciate nurses, you know I do, but it is hard. My arms aches from IVs and were black and blue from them finding new spots each time a vein collapsed and was unusable.

Oh but to go home…

Home is where the nightmare begins.

Home is where you aren’t hooked up to survival anymore. Home brings noise and smells of food, busy children and people stopping by. Home is where you take a nose dive and get sicker than sick. Scared to stay and scared to go home. I had no idea about anxiety and how it is a literal, physical feeling until I was admitted and sent home over and over again.

But home is also where Cade was. Oh if only you could know Cade.

And I want to tell you, I will tell you, but I didn’t expect to be so overcome with emotion. Tonight my heart keeps me from my story.