@moogie | contributor
I'm a mom of three children, ages 10, 5, and 3. My youngest has Dravet Syndrome, a severe form of epilepsy. My degree is in education, but my passion is writing. I always thought I would be in the classroom once my youngest was able to go to preschool but that is no longer a possibility due to her disease. So instead I am trying to embrace the full-time mom life.
Meagan @moogie

To the Medical Staff Who Saved My Daughter's Life

I know you don’t play cards all day — even though you work in a small rural hospital. To the firefighter, who happened to be a high school friend of my mine, thank you for taking my seizing baby. Thank you for cradling her, holding her and carrying her to the ambulance. Thank you for hugging me when you got out, and helping me to climb up into the vehicle. You were probably hoping for a slow night at the station, but you came to help my baby. To the ER staff who held my hand, who worked to get an IV in my baby, who ran test after test, and calmly explained to me what was going on. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for your patience. Thank you for rubbing her forehead when she came to and was scared. I know how hard it is to take care of a sick kid. But you showed my baby love, and for that I thank you. To the small town pediatrician, who happened to be my pediatrician when I was a kid as well, thank you for listening to your gut. Thank you for listening to my rambling, thank you for being willing to let me make a choice that night but being honest with me about what you felt inside. Thank you for making sure we were settled in the pediatric ward before you left for the evening. If you hadn’t, you would have already left when she started to seize again. You wouldn’t have been there when she began to code. Thank you for staying with my baby; thank you for being a doctor who I know is both honest and kind. Thank you for setting me aside and telling me what to expect when it was time to transfer her to a bigger hospital. Thank you for hugging me and praying with me that night. Thank you for crying with me, and showing me I wasn’t alone in my feelings. I know your wife probably wished you had been home to eat dinner that night, but you were providing care to my baby. Thank you. To the nurses who saved my daughter, thank you. Thank you all for rushing into the room to save my daughter that night. Thank you for getting an IV, for calling around for extra support, and for taking care of me when you were busy taking care of her. Thank you to the nurse who helped hold down my seizing baby as she was being intubated, and thank you to the nurse who sat there holding my hand as it was happening. Make no mistake, without you, my daughter would not be here. I know that when you work in a small town hospital, it does not mean you get extra time to play cards and hang out during your 12-hour shifts. I know you often do not have time to eat lunch, or even go to the bathroom. I know that working in a small town hospital really means being on your feet all day. It means rushing from room to room, patient to patient. It means short staffed floors and doing things that are often outside of your paygrade. But you do it with love, you do it compassion, you do it because you are lead to. And for all of that, I can never thank you enough.

Community Voices

Dear 30, I'm Ready For You

Today is my 30th birthday, and I thought it would feel a lot different than it does. I assumed it would a dramatic, life changing event, that I would be anxious and depressed about the end of my 20’s and the decade ahead.

But as I sit here drinking my coffee, watching my husband sleep on the couch and my kids raid the fridge for oranges and apples, I’m actually pretty content. I’m excited even about the years ahead.

My 20’s were kind of a powerhouse, a never-ending hurricane in a way. I got married, added two babies to our family, and moved constantly. I lost three grandfathers, two cousins, and three friends in this time. I ceased contact with my parents, and then reconnected and rebuilt our relationship. I dealt with debilitating #Anxiety and #Depression, I almost got a divorce. I watched my youngest almost die.

In my 20’s I spent a lot of time searching for answers. I spent a good two years feeling like I couldn’t breathe with all of the crap that seemed to be thrown at me in every turn. Why do I have to lose so many people? What is wrong with my baby? Why is God letting all of this happen to us?

I found my heart in my 20’s. My relationship with God, the Episcopal church that I feel called to. Advocating for medical cannabis, for a fair chance for Austen and others who face challenges like her. I learned to take care of myself, started therapy and got on an antidepressant.

My 20’s were fast and hard, but looking back I wouldn’t change them for anything.

And now I here I sit, as of writing this I have been 30 for exactly 6 hours and 6 minutes. The sun is shining over the snow and ice in my backyard brought on by yesterdays blizzard. It seems kind of fitting that the hurricane of my 20’s ended so fittingly with howling wind and snow that came through. And now I am left with the crisp, clean omen of what it left behind.

No, I’m not afraid or upset about this new decade.

I feel in my bones that my 30’s are going to bring good things. I don’t know what they are yet. A new career? A new home? I’m sure there will be heartache, but I know there will also be happiness. There will be hugs and kisses from my little ones, the teenage years and all that they entail for my oldest.

I might not ever lose the five pounds that are holding fast to my body almost four years after having my oldest; I might not become a millionaire or write a best selling novel.

Whatever happens in the next ten years there is one thing I know for sure: Thirty, I’m ready for you.

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