Dear Fairy Godmother,

It was a wonderful week. It was truly amazing.

We’d been on Disney vacations several times before. But this one was special. We brought both of our children to Walt Disney World for the first time, and dedicated the entire seven-day vacation to Disney.

After a long, late-night flight, our family unloaded at the Disney value resort Pop Century. We woke up the next morning, ate the first of many meals from our dining plan, and got right to it. Magic Kingdom, Epcot, Hollywood Studios and Animal Kingdom were our stomping grounds for six days, and just as we expected, all four of us loved it!

It was truly a vacation of a lifetime. No doubt – many more Disney vacations were in our future!

But there’s something you need to know, Fairy Godmother.

While I was enjoying the most spectacular week away at Walt Disney World with my husband and children, and most definitely wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else, I did find my mind wandering to another place.

Our whole family had spent the past 5 1/2 years battling a war against my sister’s addiction and mental illness, and then she found out she was pregnant. A few months into her pregnancy, she was ordered to a lock-down facility where she stayed about six weeks. While she was at that facility, doctors found a significant mass (CCAM) in the baby’s lung. A month prior to our visit to Disney, my sister had been transferred to a different facility where she was ordered to stay until she delivered the baby. The new facility was closer to the perinatal specialists and surgeons so the baby’s health could be monitored every week. Everything was in upheaval, and everyone was stressed out to the max. There were so many worries, and we didn’t even know if the baby was going to survive.

So you see, Fairy Godmother, I was a Cinderella-of-sorts that week. I was worn down, tattered all up inside. Nothing was certain, and miracles seemed near impossible.

I’d been successful at temporarily escaping reality that week at Disney, so I didn’t even realize I could use you until I found you that day at Magic Kingdom.

Anyone who frequents Disney regularly knows Fairy Godmother is a rare sight, but we found you hidden behind the castle. We were the first to discover you, so we took the opportunity to greet you before the crowd grew large. My husband knows me well, and knew right away you were EXACTLY the character I needed to meet and greet. So I leaned in close and he snapped the shot.

If you look at my eyes, Fairy Godmother, you’ll see I was almost in tears as I stood next to you, hidden behind that castle.

I know you’re not really magical, but Disney’s good at making days magical, so I accepted your presence for what it was. A sweet gift, a promise that miracles are possible.

While I couldn’t ask you to wave your wand and make it all go away, you brought me joy and a sense of peace. And in that moment, I knew it was all going to be alright.

May God continue to work through you to grace thousands with peace and the promise of hope in tattered times,

Amy

*If you’d like to read more from my #31Days Letters to the Unthanked series, click here for the landing page where all the letters are listed and linked!

Dear Ladies,

This is going to be a whole lot of words and a mixed bag of emotions to make a couple of simple points, but bear with me, I’m hoping by the end of this letter you’ll understand why I’m grateful you got me out of the house one cool night in November, 2009.

I received an invite to join you for ladies night out, and truth is, I really didn’t want to go out.

Before I go any deeper, let me explain girls.

I was an extroverted party girl for two years of my life, at most. But those days are long gone.

I’m an introvert by nature, so if you ask me at any given moment to plan my ideal weekend night, I’d list the following:

1) Stay at home, have pizza delivered, and watch a movie with my husband.

2) Go out for dinner with my family, come back and play a game and/or watch a movie together.

3) Go out by myself, do a little shopping and catch a double feature.

4) Stay in for a quiet evening at home, then once everyone’s in bed, read a book, write a blog post, or watch a drama or chick flick of my choosing. Add a box of fruity candy like Mike ‘N Ikes or Sour Patch Kids to make it even better!

If I do get out with other ladies, it’s usually a planned in advance one-on-one coffee or lunch date during the weekday.

I know, super boring and predictable. 🙂

I’m not much of a going out girl. Starting the night at 9:00, 10:00, or 11:00 p.m. very rarely entices me, even if it’s something fun. Going with a big group of people into loud places with lots of hustle and bustle during late night hours typically empties me rather than fills me up.

I’ve struggled with this, girls. Because I know – “Girls just wanna have fun!” And as moms, we really do need a break once in a while.

There have been times I’ve wanted to be the party girl again, I’ve wanted to be the one to organize ladies night out, I’ve wished I was the extroverted one so you knew I’d go out at the drop of a hat. But the truth is, it’s not going to happen, it’s not who I am. I’m over the wishing and wanting to be someone I’m not.

So take all of that that natural introversion, add five years three months of non-stop trauma and drama with my sister who had been battling addiction and mental illness, add the announcement of her pregnancy the month prior, and then add your invitation to go out for ladies night.

I was a mess.

I really didn’t want to go out.

All I wanted to do was stay in, be quiet, and watch a movie with my husband. I believed what I needed was a heavy dose of self-care, time alone, time away at some retreat center, or maybe someone to come over, bring me a big piece of chocolate cake and chat the night away just the two of us.

But I had no excuse. The night was completely open. And I’d told my husband about the invite. Being the (almost always) extreme extrovert he is, he of course encouraged me strongly to join you all for ladies night. And he won!

Only, I wasn’t a very eager participant. I got ready, but buttoned myself up in a turtle-necked tank top and heavy wool sweater.

And here’s the thing you don’t know, ladies…

I cried while I got ready, cried when I came downstairs to tell my husband good-bye (he, of course, reminded me I was going to have a great time!), and had tears on and off again until Jamie drove in the driveway to pick me up.

I was so tired, girls. So exhausted. So spent. So DONE.

Going out to a restaurant and bar for ladies night was the least of my concerns at that moment.

It was dark when you pulled in, Jamie, so I’m pretty sure I wiped my tears and tried to pretend they were never there. Or is my memory failing – did I let some out when I got into the car, but wiped them before we picked up the rest of the girls? I’m not sure, and that detail doesn’t matter. The point is that I didn’t want to go out, didn’t have the emotional or physical energy, and maybe should have opted for self-care in the bathtub instead of karaoke and drinks at a bar, but I knew I needed to do this for my own good.

And here’s the reason I wanted to thank you today…

I actually enjoyed myself that night. I smiled. I laughed. I had fun. Because you invited me.

We went to a nice restaurant to eat, then headed to little bar nobody would know about unless they were locals. There was a bar brawl, and a couple of you sang karaoke after the “famous” local TV anchor took his turn on stage. We chatted about our lives as women and moms, and all was good with the world.

One night out with the ladies. It was as simple as that. No obligation to do it every week or every night. Just one night out. And it made all the difference.

Little did I know, the months ahead would prove to be some of the most exhausting and challenging of my life, which makes me even more grateful looking back, realizing you provided a little relief, a little reprieve, in midst of the storm.

So thank you. Thank you for inviting me, thank you Seth for forcing me strongly encouraging me to join the ladies night out, and thank you ladies for making the evening enjoyable.

With all sincerity and gratitude for who you who you are,

Amy

*If you’d like to read more from my #31Days Letters to the Unthanked series, click here for the landing page where all the letters are listed and linked!

Dear Eli,

I’m writing because I want you to know that you were an amazing swim instructor for my son several years ago.

When we found you, our son had already been through three rounds of swimming lessons at other facilities. NONE of them had been successful. He spent most of the time kicking, screaming, crying, and refusing to get in the water. When he finally did get in the water, he didn’t learn much of anything. It was all so embarrassing, and as a parent, I didn’t know what to do.

But you took our little boy, repelled by formal swimming instruction and unwilling to get in and try, and made him into a swimmer! There were moments where he’d still resist, especially the first several classes, but you had a way about you that made him receptive to trying. You worked your magic, and half way through class, you had him swimming like a fish! My son came to love you and was particularly excited when he’d hit the jackpot of swimming lessons, those random days where he was the only student in class and had you all to himself!

We were sad when our weekly swim lessons with you came to an end. We’d gotten to know and appreciate your style quite well over the 12-16 week period. Why would we want to give you up? You taught our son how to swim. He started off sitting on the side of the pool, hating the whole thing. By the time you were done with him, he was jumping in and swimming several feet all by himself. And even on the last day of class, he was still progressing. What more could a parent ask for?

You instructed with skill, care, and ease, and knew how to inject a just-right dose of humor to motivate my son. Your personalities meshed perfectly.

We assumed you’d continue your work as an instructor at the swim school since it was commonplace for instructors to continue from one session to the next. But we assumed wrong. When we made the request, we were told you were no longer an instructor at the school and that you’d become a personal care assistant. While I was so disappointed you had left and knew we’d never have you again for a swim instructor, I knew the child you were caring for was going to be blessed beyond measure by your assistance.

Thank you, Eli, for what you did for our son. Thank you for breaking the cycle of negativity. Thank you for building in him a confidence he never knew prior to meeting you. Thank you for understanding him, for adjusting your teaching style to meet his needs. And thanks for being you – a great guy who was, is, clearly headed for a bright future.

Sincerely and all my best to you,

Amy

*If you’d like to read more from my #31Days Letters to the Unthanked series, click here for the landing page where all the letters are listed and linked!

Dear Children,

You were two little rascals, that’s what you were!

Look at that food on your face. It’s everywhere and you didn’t even care.

I can see it in your eyes, the way you’re squeezing him tight. You two were in cahoots that day.

You left the table just like that, out to have fun any and every way you knew how.

You thought it would be a blast to gather your favorite things, bring them upstairs, and drop them one by one over the banister to the first level.

I let you do it, I’m not really sure why. Maybe it was a cold day and we were stuck inside, maybe I was tired, maybe there was no preschool that day, maybe I wanted to get dinner made without you under my feet, maybe I was just letting you off the hook for a while.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter to you. You had fun!

By the time you were done dropping all those things over the banister, the first level was a disastrous mess. Pokemon cards were strewn all around an Ariel purse, Barbie backpack, Tinkerbell figurine, and miniature Madeleine doll. A sheep that played a lullaby when you pulled the string and teddy bears you got as newborns were among stuffed animals thrown in the pile.

Between the mess at the lunch table and the mess at the bottom of the stairs, it was by far the messiest day we’d had to date.

But you know what? Your dirty little hands? Your dirty little faces? That disaster you made at the bottom of the stairs? It didn’t matter one bit that day, and it doesn’t matter one bit today. In fact, I’m glad I let you make that mess! I’m glad I took pictures to mark the occasion – the messiest, most disastrous day we’d ever had! Because life with little ones isn’t about keeping things neat, tidy and perfectly placed all day long. Life with little ones is about marking moments, living life to the fullest – while they’re still little.

Years have passed, and you’re not so little anymore. Your faces haven’t been that messy for years, and you’d think it was a lame idea to throw things over the banister to the first floor. You’re both way too cool for that.

Though it seems you’re all grown up big now, one day I’ll look back on pictures from this week, this month, and realize you were still – little kids. I’ll long for these days, I’ll wish I could make you little again. And most of what I’ll remember will be good.

So if I’m aware, if I’m living fully alive and in the moment now, I’ll take movies and capture more photographs that will remind me – your childhood was wonderful, I let you be kids, we lived life to the fullest, together. And it was good.

So thanks for getting down and dirty, creating disasters that remind me we’re alive. I’m blessed to share this beautifully messy life with you.

All my love,

Mama

*If you’d like to read more from my #31Days Letters to the Unthanked series, click here for the landing page where all the letters are listed and linked!

Dear Dr. Busch,

We met you before our first child was born. You were the pediatrician assigned to speak to our birthing class at the hospital. We were newbies to this parenting thing, and somehow we missed the memo we were supposed to be interviewing pediatricians prior to our baby’s birth. Thank goodness you were there that night, because we fell in love with you and decided we didn’t need to interview anyone else. You were it!

You came to the hospital for our son’s first pediatrician visit the day he was born, and conducted another exam before we were discharged. You returned to that same hospital when our daughter was born for her first check. And when our second baby girl was born years later, I was so excited to have you come for her newborn visit, but was informed after birth that your office didn’t make visits to that hospital anymore. The hospitalist just wasn’t the same as our Dr. Busch. I couldn’t wait to get into the office two weeks later so you could meet our baby, examine her, provide education and guidance, and answer questions I had.

For 10 years we saw you faithfully at the clinic for all three childrens’ well child visits. Sometimes we had to schedule appointments 2-3 months in advance because you were so booked, but you were worth the wait every time. I’ll never forget the way you entered the examination room. You were confident, friendly, funny, and quick on your feet. You called the kids by name and knew just what to say to break the ice. Your bedside manner was absolutely superb. I never doubted once your knowledge of pediatrics. When I asked a question, you had an answer. There was NO wishy-washy about you. You knew your stuff and you weren’t hesitant to share. There was a measured confidence in your voice that made me feel at peace. I always knew we were in good hands. You gave us your full attention and never cut the appointment short.

And when troubles arose with our childrens’ health or development, you handled it with grace and ease. You maintained your confidence, but added the perfect boost of warmth and understanding I needed as a parent. You went above and beyond to ensure thorough examinations, prescribed medicine, and made referrals. Your follow-up and memory of all the details was impeccable. As parents, you made us feel competent, able to handle anything that came our way. When I shared my concerns, when I cried, when I was stressed out, when I was sleep deprived, when I was worried or maybe even obsessing, when I just wanted all of this to be taken care of – you were there to share your wealth of knowledge and guide us in the right direction, and I knew you cared.

I’ll never forget the day you told us you were going to move and become a medical school professor at a University. I broke into tears immediately. It was a complete shock. I naively thought you’d be my kids’ pediatrician until they graduated from high school, and you’d barely gotten started with our not quite 1-year-old daughter. You noted your last day, and told us we should schedule any last minute appointments as soon as possible. I was fortunate to get in one last appointment for my son before you left. He was due for a check anyway, but I needed your reassurance we were on the right track with everything before we said good bye one last time.

I cried the day you told us we were leaving, I cried at that last appointment for my son, and I cried again when I got in the car to leave the clinic one last time. We’d been traveling quite a distance to get to you all those years, and I knew now that you were gone, we’d be switching practices. It took months, really, for me to realize the full implications of your absence. We searched long and hard for someone to fill your shoes (8 months to be exact), but fortunately, we finally found a new provider who is competent and caring and injects a little bit of humor at the right time, just like you did.

But we will NEVER forget you, Dr. Busch. You will never be replaced in our hearts. You were phenomenal. Your care, top notch.

Although we still miss you and think of you often, we are happy for you, know this is the right next step in your career, and sincerely wish you all the best in your now not-so-new position as medical school professor. Your medical students are beyond blessed to have you, and I rest easier knowing the next generation of pediatricians will have a little “Dr. Busch” in them.

May the fruits of your work come back to you a thousand fold,

Amy

*If you’d like to read more from my #31Days Letters to the Unthanked series, click here for the landing page where all the letters are listed and linked!