From the Caregiver's HAErt — Danita LaShelle Jones

It was almost over. The fine arts magnet school I attended was almost done with a Broadway-worthy, 13-show run of the school’s Christmas musical. The musical itself was a massive undertaking. “Mr. Grumpy’s Toy Shop” (an adaptation of Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol”) involved over 300 students, historically…

Snacks for the van? Organized! Blankets and pillows for anyone who wants to get comfy while sleeping? Washed and ready! DVDs for the movie marathon the kids will start on the road? Check! Noise-canceling earbuds for me because of the previous items? I don’t leave home without them. Everyone’s suitcases…

I placed the final piece of clothing in my overnight bag and zipped it shut. Although we were still about 48 hours away from check-in, I was over the moon about the “staycation” my husband, PJ, and I had planned for Valentine’s Day. This particular romantic getaway was years in…

In my mind, it happened in slow motion. I didn’t have time to react in real time as my poor compact car was broadsided by a vehicle that had ill-timed the changing of the light. Sixteen-year-old me was stunned and bleeding, but grateful I could get out of the car.

The light from the dining room was the only one shining in the dark house. The hour was late, and being home from college for the summer, I figured I was the only one keeping late-night hours. But as I approached the door that led to the formal eating area,…

I have vague memories of the encounter. I remember sitting on the exam table and asking if I was getting a shot that day in the most authoritative voice I could muster. When the pediatrician confirmed my greatest fear and then left the room, I put my plan into action.

I triumphantly pressed enter and marveled at my epic post on social media. There were no hospital visits, no rushes to the emergency room, and no urgent phone calls to after-hour physicians’ lines. Our second-born, affectionally known as Ladybug, had gone three solid weeks without any medical incidents. What better…

“Oh, I had that,” said the woman on the other end of the phone line. I had to cancel a meeting I had scheduled because my oldest daughter, whom we fondly refer to as Ladybug, was having a flare that would eventually lead to hospitalization. Although I couldn’t see the…

The familiar number flashed across my phone screen, and I audibly groaned. After a particularly arduous morning dealing with late school buses, forgotten lunches, and a few involved errands, I had finally reached a moment where everything settled. Yet the sound of my phone vibrating against the table yanked me…

I stared down at the incoming text message and completely froze. The beeps from her monitor in the pediatric intensive care unit (PICU) had finally settled into a consistent rhythm. Although our oldest daughter, whom we lovingly refer to as Ladybug, was resting, my adrenaline was still pumping from the…

I haplessly fell backward on my bed, blew a sharp breath out of my mouth, and stared at the ceiling. We had made it to the middle of the week without any incidents with my oldest daughter, nicknamed Ladybug. We hadn’t needed to make a trip to see the pediatrician,…

I sat in my idle car and drummed my thumbs on the steering wheel. Another glance at the clock revealed that it was 10:57 a.m. I had three minutes left before it counted as a full day. Part of me hoped that I wouldn’t be noticed by a security guard…