From the Caregiver's HAErt — Danita LaShelle Jones

With seconds left in the game and our team down by only a few baskets, we were on the edge of our seats. Because our church team was smaller than most, our starting lineup didn’t have the luxury of…

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…

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…

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…

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…

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 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…

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,…

“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…

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…

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…

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.