I have a cool story to share from my week working at the elementary school.
A few days ago, I was out at recess monitoring some kids from the 3rd and 4th grade classes. Overall, the children were mostly behaving - and that was enjoyable for me! As I was scanning the playground, a young, worried looking boy ran up to me and said, "Ms. Crystal, my friend is making fun of you!" I asked him, "Why is that?" He replied, "He's making fun of you because of your birthmark!"
Woah!!...What?? How much courage did it take for that young boy to tell me that his own friend was making fun of me? Again - this is a boy in the 3rd or 4th grade! I can't even begin to explain how impressed I was by his courage and maturity.
Not really sure how to handle the situation - especially since I didn't hear his friend making fun of me myself - I just asked the boy the name of his friend, their room number, and teacher's name.
Thankfully, it was a teacher that I have known for a few years now and have seen on and off during my campus visits before being hired as an NTA (noontime assistant). It made it easier for me to talk comfortably with her about the issue, since I didn't know how that kind of situation should be handled.
When I spoke with her, I told her about the boy who talked to me at recess. She apparently was already made aware of the situation by some of her other students. But, I told her, "I don't really know how to handle this, but as the boy's teacher, I wanted you to be aware that it was said. I'm not upset - I didn't even hear what was said...And I know that kids do this kind of thing. Kids will be kids! But, if you ever want me to come to your classroom to share about it and to let them ask any questions they may have - just let me know! I'd be happy to do so." She made sure to let me know that she would talk with the child and make sure it was handled on her end.
Usually at recess, kids are asking me questions almost everyday. Because of the many questions I receive, knowing I'm going to have another laser treatment in November (which really encourages more questions), and now knowing that there was an issue of a child making fun of me, I sent the principal of the school (who is actually my former 4th grade teacher) a message.
I basically said the same to her as I told the teacher just moments earlier, but in a little more detail, "Hey! I meant to talk to you today but you seemed busy and I had to run to class. However, I was made aware today by one of the students that one of his friend was making fun of me because of my birthmark. No worries - I'm not upset or anything by it, I didn't even hear what was said. That's what kids do and I talked to his teacher about it. But I just wanted to say - if any of the teachers want or need me to, I am always more then willing to go to their classrooms to teach the kids about it and to let them ask all their questions. I'd rather help them understand it as curious children than to let them grow up to be rude adults. So, if the teachers ever want me to visit their classrooms for a few minutes - I can always come in early before my shift or on certain days I can visit after my shift is over. I'm more than willing, so they can just let me know."
She told me she would email all the teacher's about my offer. About three hours later, she messaged me back saying she had 9 responses from teachers telling her that they would love for me to come share with their classes. As of right now, I don't know the current count of all the teachers who want me to come in, but I was really amazed at at least 9 said yes. It was unexpected for me - but it makes me happy and excited to have a chance to talk and share with the children. I'm not really sure how much I am of "teacher material" - but to have the chance to try to impact children for just 10 or 20 minutes (or however long the teachers have me share and probably depending on how many questions I receive)...Wow. What a cool opportunity!
Today I had a few teachers tell me that they've emailed me to find out when I'm available to come and speak with their students. (Teacher's I've never met even told me "hello" today by name...and I don't even wear a name badge, as I'm still waiting to get one.) From the looks of it, I'll have the chance to share with children as young as 4-years-old to children in the 6th grade.
In the last day, this whole thing had me wondering...Why doesn't the school system have a set up for people who are "different" from societies "normal"...Those who don't quite fit into that very stupid, small, and specific box that society wants people to fit into, come to speak to children? You know...Those like me, with birthmarks on their faces...Or even those who are Deaf, blind, in wheel chairs, or amputees. I can promise you that I'm not the only one who deal with issues from strangers...And I'm certainly not the only one willing to help teach others the beauty in being who I am, and to educate them about why I am the way I am.
In my personal experiences, I deal with a many rude adults...sometimes just once a week, but sometimes on a daily basis. Between staring, stupid questions***, and rude comments...I have to deal with this a lot!
If we talk to people while they are still children, we can give them an easy way to teach them to be curious in a kind manner. We can teach them appropriate ways to ask questions, and tell them it's not kind to stare. More importantly, maybe we could tear down any possible future stereotypes that people have for those who physically look different, are in a wheel chair, are blind, or Deaf.
Here is an example of my own idea: Yesterday evening, for a class assignment, I was able to interview a super sweet lady who happens to be Deaf. One question that a friend and I asked her was, "What is one of your pet peeves of hearing people?" Part of her reply was something along the lines of, "Hearing people often assume that because I'm Deaf, that means I am dumb and stupid. I'm not."
Using this portion of the interview I had with the lady, let's say that later on, a child (let's call her Mary) hears their friend say something rude about a Deaf person, by calling them "dumb" or "stupid". What if, instead of easily being able to laugh along at another person's expense because of influences of others who do the same, or accept the negative stereotypes and look down upon others for being Deaf, or someone else "different" in any other way...What if, when Mary hears their friends making fun of someone and can think, "Well, that's not true. I remember when I was 8-years-old, and a Deaf man came into my classroom and shared with us about his life being Deaf...and he was far from being stupid!! He's even a teacher at a university, is married, and has 3 or 4 children."
And then what if, from there, Mary can correct and influence her friend to think differently about others??
Maybe my idea is wrong. Maybe it's right. Either way, it's my two cents from a life time of 22-years of experiences.
Really, overall, I think people say and do things because they feel uncomfortable by situations and things that they aren't use to being around or seeing. What if we made the children of today aware of other people and their really cool lives and unique experiences? What if we taught them while they are young, how to act and treat others properly - regardless of they way they look, act, their race, if they can hear or not, if they can walk or use a wheel chair for assistance, or if they can see or can't see??
Whether the person be blind, an amputee, in a wheel chair, Deaf, or has a birthmark on their face...Let's teach children that these aren't people to look down on and treat like they are any less than themselves, but these are incredibly beautiful people we can look up to for inspiration and as great role models.
Let's break down that box that the world has made for all of us to fit into. We're all unique and special people, and we definitely weren't put on this earth to be put into a box - no matter of who we are, or even for who we aren't.
The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal
***When I referred to an adult's questions being stupid, really, I don't think that any question is stupid. People are curious and that's a natural part of being human, whether you're a child, teen, young adult, or older person. I just feel as though the way adults usually handle seeing my birthmark for the first time handle it in a stupid manner. They can ask about it, I'd love to help them learn about it! But sadly, instead of maturely and kindly asking about my birthmark, they either stare, or usually ask about it in the weirdest or in a rude way...And that? That's what I find to be stupid. When kids ask me crazy questions? Well, they're kids. I've never viewed their ways of asking as stupid, as they are genuinely curious and really have the sweetest intentions as they learn how to properly ask questions. They are, after all, children. ***
Showing posts with label child. Show all posts
Showing posts with label child. Show all posts
Friday, October 18, 2013
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
The Stain
Due to the interest and high volume of readers in my blog post "Birthmarks and Laser Treatments", I asked my mom (Rhonda Hodges) if she would be willing to share her perspective of having a child with a physical difference. Her story is below.
The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal
PS: If it looks familiar to some of you, a shorter version was published in the Free Will Baptist "ONE" Magazine several years ago. This is the longer and updated version that rooted from an English assignment while she was in college.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 |
| Crystal's newborn photo. |
My
attention is drawn quickly to the color of her face. Something is
different, but I am too tired to figure it out right now. Her daddy takes
her and gives her to the nurse so she can weigh, measure and clean her
up. He, too, notices something different but is not sure if it is because
she is a newborn.
After a
pediatrician examined her, he comes in to talk to my husband, Jim and me.
Crystal has a port-wine stain (vascular birthmark) on the left side of her
face. As the name suggests, the birthmark is a deep red, almost purplish
color. He is so blunt and doesn’t seem to care about what we may be
feeling and thinking at the time. We were expecting a healthy, “flawless”
baby. We bombarded him with questions: Will the birthmark go
away? Are there other side affects? What caused it? What did
I do wrong during my pregnancy?
The fact
is that more than 10 babies in 100 are born with a port wine stain
birthmark. Only a small percentage of these are located on the
face. This type of birthmark is formed from extra blood vessels under the
skin and it does not go away on its own. In fact, the birthmark will
probably get darker as the person grows older. While there are different
types of laser treatments to lighten the stain, they are not always effective.
The birthmark goes deeper
than the skin you see. In the case such as Crystal’s, it can also go into
the brain. When the doctor talked with us after Crystal was born, we
learned that if the birthmark went too far into the brain, she would suffer a
seizure within 24 hours of her birth. Sometimes, the child has brain
damage from the birthmark as well. As the first 24 hours of her life came
and went, we were relieved that no seizure came. This meant the news was
good – it was not very deep into her brain.
Since the location of
Crystal’s birthmark is over her eye, there is also a concern about her
eyesight. In most cases, glaucoma is diagnosed later in life. For
Crystal, this meant she would be diagnosed with glaucoma at the age of
nine. While others look at her differently because of the outward stain,
her view of life is different from what most people realize. The slight
loss of vision she experiences at such a young age makes her keenly aware of
the importance of seeing what’s really important – the inside of a person.
The causes of this birth
defect are unknown. However, it is certain that the mother did not do
anything
 |
| This look didn't help with the stares of others any. ;-) |
As soon as I was able, I went
to church to show off our wonderful daughter. A well-meaning older man of
the church whispered to his wife, “Did you see her face?” As an older
gentleman, his whispers are much louder than he realized, and I heard the
remark.
Several weeks after this, I
went to the mall with my family. My sister, Felicia, was holding
Crystal.While we were in a toy store, a man came up to my sister and
said, “How did you burn your baby?” She did not correct the fact that she
was the baby’s aunt, but rather explained that it was a birthmark – she wasn’t
burned. This was the most offensive and brutal comment that I remember
hearing. How could someone go up to a complete stranger and ask such a
personal and horrifying question? Why did he focus on her imperfection
rather than the gift we received from God – our baby!
During this same visit to the
mall, my other sister, Joanna, was holding her. A lady seemed to have
come from nowhere, came within a foot of Joanna’s face and said, “What’s wrong
with your baby?” Joanna was surprised at this woman’s boldness. She
stepped away from the woman and promptly told her that nothing was wrong with
her baby, she just had a birthmark. She wanted to ask the woman what was
wrong with her, but restrained from being as rude as the woman had been.
 |
| Amanda and Crystal - The two sisters together. |
As can be expected, our
family has always tried to protect Crystal from these cruel and thoughtless
questions and comments. Even her sister, Amanda, has tried to protect her
from the stares and comments. Amanda is seven years older than
Crystal. I never realized that she was so worried about how people
perceived Crystal until the day when our family went to a hardware store.
We were standing in the checkout line, and Amanda noticed the clerk staring at
Crystal. Without the clerk saying anything, Amanda blurted out, “It’s a
birthmark – only a birthmark!” When I asked her why she did that, she
said that she gets tired of people staring at her sister because she looks a
little different.
As
mentioned earlier, there are many different types of laser treatments that have
been successful in lightening the stain. During the first seven or eight
years of her life, Crystal had approximately 14 laser treatment surgeries - we
lost count. While the surgeries lightened the birthmark some, it did not
remove it. When the surgery is done, the skin is discolored even more and
darkened immediately. The job of the laser is to go below the skin and
cause the blood vessels to be cauterized. This process causes the area to
be swollen and appear bruised. The additional discoloration will last
about two weeks, and when that is gone, the birthmark should be lighter.
 |
| If you think my child looks tough, you should see her father. |
As one
can imagine, we were even more protective of our young daughter after she had
the laser treatments. When she was just a baby, she had surgery in San
Francisco. On our way home after the surgery, my husband and I decided to
stop for dinner. As we entered the restaurant, my husband said, “If
someone says anything about her, can I hit them?” Even though I chuckled
at his comment and told him “no”, I secretly wished we could do just that
whenever anyone made rude comments about her.
As
Crystal got older, the surgeries became less effective. When she was 11,
we decided to let Crystal decide if she wanted to continue the
treatments. She decided she did not want to go through them
anymore. Just recently, she decided to start the treatments again. Over the past ten years, technology has improved the laser machine and after
her first treatment, her birthmark is already lighter. Even though she is
a young adult, I still feel the need to try to shield her from the stares of
strangers after her treatments. I even find myself “staring them down” or
even trying to block their view if I see that someone is staring at her. I realize that’s a bit silly and maybe even funny, but I suppose it’s because I
don’t want her to be hurt.
* * *
When the
world looks at Crystal, they see a young lady with a mark that cannot be
hidden. Even though our society is supposed to be more learning about
those with physical differences and disabilities, the stares continue.
 |
| Crystal and some of her friends at school. |
Most of the time, it’s adults that are the most inconsiderate. Usually, children will look at her for a minute and continue on their original mission. Occasionally, one will ask her a question about her face. She will tell them it is a birthmark, and their curiosity is satisfied. When she was in grade school, the children in her class asked many questions. When she explained that it was a birthmark, the children either showed or told everyone about their own birthmark. Life continues for them as if nothing is different.
Those
that look different – whether caused by an accident or at birth – are often
perceived as not mentally bright. The thought is if someone doesn’t fit
the typical mold, they must not be as smart as others. This simply is not
true.
I always
teased my children about having eyes in the back of my head. They often
tried to find them, but I told them that they were only used when they were
needed. When Crystal was about five or six, I was in the kitchen
preparing dinner. She came into the kitchen behind me and wanted me to
look at something she had in her hands. I told her that if I turned
around right then, I’d cut my fingers. She said, “See, Mommy, I knew you
didn’t have eyes in the back of your head.” While her response was
comical, it also showed her ability to analyze things at a young age.
* * *
 |
| Her dramatic side started at a young age. |
This
forgetfulness doesn’t happen because the birthmark is too light to see, but
rather because they know Crystal personally and are focused on her
personality. At times she can be shy, but most of the time, she is an
outgoing young lady. She can be very dramatic and grew up loving to be
the center of attention! Even as her mother, there are many times, that I
can’t remember what side her birthmark is on. When I would call to
schedule a doctor’s appointment for her, I have to look at her picture to
remember where it is located.
I
criticize others for their lack of acceptance of my daughter as she is, but I
also have had to reprimand myself. There were times I needed to
reevaluate my reasons for scheduling her laser treatments. Is it because
I want what is best for her, or am I pursuing it so I will no longer have to
explain her appearance to others?
 |
| Her strength and positive self-esteem can often be shown through her style of humor. |
* * *
Most
people judge others by what they look at rather than who they are. There
are many other types of prejudices in this area rather than the port wine stain
like my daughter has.
Let’s
look at those that are too heavy. If someone is too heavy, we typically
think that they are lazy and sit around all day doing nothing. While this
may be the case, it is not always true. Many of these people have tried
one thing after another to lose the extra weight, but nothing has helped
them. While they may never be happy about the extra weight, they learn to
accept themselves the way they are and be happy, successful people.
On the
other end of the spectrum, we think that those that are too thin must be sick
or have an eating disorder. After all, how else can they stay that
skinny? Just as those that try to lose weight without success, many thin
people try to gain weight without success. Their experiences in
purchasing clothes can be as frustrating to them as to the overweight
person. It’s no fun for a businesswoman to have to look for business
attire in the junior section of the clothing store. Those clothes are
made for teens – not successful women.
In
addition to weight perceptions, we look at those that have acne. When we
see someone that has severe acne, our minds tend to think that they don’t take
care of themselves the way they should. We forget about all of the
medicines or overactive glands that can cause this condition.
* * *
Unfortunately,
there are many other “stains” in life that cause us to judge others by their
looks. By limiting ourselves to those that appear to be “stain” free, we
miss many blessings.
At one
time in our church, we had two young ladies that are mentally challenged.
One is a Down’s Syndrome child, and the other one has other mental disabilities.
When I was younger, I would steer away from these girls because they are
“different”. I even remember a time before Crystal was born when I saw
someone at a store that had a birthmark and was thankful that Amanda did not
have their abnormality. I remember feeling sorry for that woman and
wondering what caused her condition. No, I didn’t go up to her and ask
her these questions, but I still looked at her as someone with a “stain”.
 |
| This is a photo of Crystal and I together on Easter, 2013. |
We
all have “stains” in our lives that are not attractive. How do we use
those? Do we try to hide them from others and try to forget we have them,
or do we learn from them and try to help others? That is the question we
must each ask ourselves. Be sure to answer it honestly.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Going Home
*This is a lengthy and slightly scattered entry...While it's long in words, it only briefly covers my thoughts, emotions, and only a fraction of the story.*
"You need to come home."
It's a phrase I remember all too well. I was in Japan a few weeks ago (helping with disaster relief work) when this was said to me. It was a phrase so unexpected - just as unexpected as the situation taking place at home.
Within 24 hours of landing in Japan I received a text from my mom telling me to call her as soon as possible. Knowing that phone calls and texts to and from Japan aren't the cheapest from the USA (even with a special plan), I knew something was wrong. Honestly, considering my dad's health this year, I figured it had to do with him. I assumed he was back in the hospital for a third time.
Once I got a hold of my mom back home in California I found out my theory was all wrong. Dad was okay. She was okay. This time around my sister and my niece were the ones who were in the hospital.
At this point my sister, Amanda, was about 22 weeks pregnant with my niece. Just a couple of weeks earlier we found out who my niece was. She was Ashley Elizabeth. Ashley would be my sister and brother-in-law's first daughter. Their first child. She would be my first niece, my parent’s first grandchild, and my grandparent’s first great-grandchild.
Now at 22 weeks within the womb, my sister found them sitting in the hospital being told the odds weren't good. The amniotic fluid was leaking. One more week is all they needed to increase the odds to better ones. Bed rest was a necessity and we would all know more in a few days.
In my mind I honestly thought, "Everything is going to be okay. God is in control. He'll take care of them. I'll make it home in about a week. Things will be okay and if she has to come early - I'll be home for Ashley's grand entrance into the world."
Stories and stories of God's care and miracles kept coming to my mind, encouraging me. I was worried, but praying about it I put it all in God's hands. Being in Japan I couldn't do anything about the situation other then pray and have my team members pray. Even if I had been home I still couldn't really of done anything more then what I was already doing.
A few days went by. During those few days a lot was accomplished. The team I was on in Japan took a night ferry from one island to another to get to the disaster-affected area. We got to where we were staying during our time volunteering. We met new friends with shovels in hand. We worked and we sweat. We laughed at silly moments (probably increased by jet lag). We cried for the Japanese and the destruction, horror, lose, and pain they have had to face in their lives and for the stories and memories they have to bear. (And again, there will be blogs about the whole trip and with the stories of the Japanese survivors.)
One day after several hours of bagging up rubble from where a house once stood we got back to the gym that was our temporary home. I hadn't looked at my phone all day. When I did I saw a missed call from my aunt and text messages saying to call her "ASAP". This is when I knew there must have been a drastic turn in events back home.
Calling her back she informed me that my sister had suddenly gotten an infection. An infection that sent her fever well above 100 degrees. The doctors made the call to induce labor. My niece’s arrival would more then likely occur within the next 24 hours. The odds weren't good at all. She had less then 1% chance to live. They still had her heart beat, but we wouldn't know anything until she was born.
In that moment as I sat in the gym on my sleeping mat, phone pressed against my ear, tears started to roll down my cheek. Other then the basics of the situation, all I remember my aunt heart-brokenly saying, "I am so sorry Crystal...I am so sorry." All I could really ask in reply was, "When will they know if she’ll make it? When will they know?" More then likely, we wouldn’t know for a few hours or until she was even born.
A few hours later the team was headed to the onsen on the bus, I got the call. My sister was still in labor but Ashley didn't make it. My sister would be giving birth to her beautiful daughter as a stillborn.
This was all so unexpected. The pain of losing my niece has caught me off guard. I had no idea it could hurt so much to lose a child that I never got to know. My heart was breaking, knowing I would never even get to hold her. Everything that could happen seemed to be happening to our family in the recent months. I was thousands of miles away as my family was being hit by one of the strongest storms we've had to go through together. Confusion hit me as I thought, "I thought God wanted me to come to Japan, but why would he want me here when my family needs me there? Why is all this happening - especially now?"
During the days in Japan I truly felt mostly okay. The work kept us busy. The laughter and silly moments kept me laughing. Our team kept me encouraged and prayed for my family often.
Nights were the worst for me. That’s when life slowed down. It’s when I was alone in my own little world and thought process. It’s when there was silence…Silence where my mind could wander back home, back to where I knew the pain and shock of the situation was devastating my family.
After working in Japan I ended up going home about two days early. I was leaving on a Monday and the visitation for Ashley was Tuesday. The service would be Wednesday.
Those few days were a blur. Leaving Japan I felt heartbroken. Every time I leave the wonderful country of Japan I feel as though I leave a little bit of my heart behind. Once on my plane I spent over 24 hours flying, arriving home in California before I ever left the country of Japan. (Yay for time differences!)
Tuesday came as my sister knocking on my door awaked me. Together we talked and we cried. She told me that I would, after all, still have a chance to hold Ashley if I wanted the chance. My sister and brother-in-law also asked me if I was willing to put a soft stuffed animal rattle I had bought Ashley in the coffin with her. “We would be honored if you chose to put it in with her, but we understand if you don’t.”
I knew I had to give her the toy and I was honored that they asked. When pulling down the bag of baby stuff mom and I had been collecting, to retrieve the item, I thought to myself, “This isn’t right. This isn’t supposed to be pulled down until her baby shower. This is suppose to be used in a time of celebration.”
Walking into the visitation room tears instantly trickled down all of our cheeks as the little pink coffin came into our vision. Instantly I couldn’t help but think, “No coffin should ever be that small.”
During the first 30 minutes or so of being in the room I couldn’t get myself to go past the back row of the chapel. As my family walked to the front crying and hugging one another, I sat in the first chair I saw - frozen. As a couple of family members tried to get me to go closer, I couldn’t move. I had no words to say. Eventually even my tears froze as I sat there taking it all in, not knowing what to think, do, say, or how to react.
There were many thoughts going through my mind that day. Reality was finally really hitting. Being in Japan and hearing what was happening, it hurt and I felt broken. But being home…Seeing the pain…Seeing the coffin…It really made it sink in as real even more then just hearing what was occurring. What I knew as broken before felt more like little cracks in comparison to what I was now feeling. (Kind of like Japan. It’s one thing to hear about the disaster and work that needs to be done. Pictures help to understand, videos really helped, but being there in person…hearing the stories…seeing their pain in their eyes…seeing the destruction and rubble…it’s a whole different ball park in comparison to just reading the papers and online news.)
As I watched my family from afar it felt unreal as a loving father took his precious 14-ounce daughter wrapped in pink out of the coffin they were to bury her in the next day. It felt unreal as her mother, my sister, gave her one last kiss on her little forehead and as great-grandparents held her for the first and last time (as they, like me, were out of town when all this took place).
Up until this point I didn’t know if I would hold her or not. In fact, I still hadn’t even gone up to look at her yet. This wasn’t due to a lack of desire – believe me. The desire was all there. The strength is what I feared I lacked.
When I realized it they were getting ready to put her back into the coffin for the last time, I jumped up realizing this was my last chance. This was my last chance to see her…to hold her…This was my last chance to create my first and last memory with her as she was out of the womb.
As they handed her to me she felt so light. Tears started to pour out of my eyes and down my face. I remember family surrounding us. I remember my mom saying, “Look at her little hand…” as she uncovered it from the blanket she was wrapped in so snuggly. She had five little fingers and a cute little nose. She was beautiful.
When putting her into the coffin for the last time she was given a little tiny Bible by her little hands. We also placed in a stuffed animal rattle that I had purchased in excitement for a future baby shower. Also with her I put in a little bib I had just purchased a couple of weeks before that said, “My heart belongs to my aunt.”
The next day we drove to the cemetery. As we got out of are cars, we saw other family members and friends standing under a tarp all dressed in black. We were guided to our seats where the service would take place. We heard a preacher speak and two beautiful songs, including, “Jesus Loves Me”. Before I knew it the service was over and it was time to lower Ashley into the ground. As my tears once more flowed down my cheek, my cousin Brett held me while shedding his own tears.
The last month has been an emotional roller coaster for all of us. We’ve all experienced some kind of anger, happiness, bitterness, sadness, and times of laughter. Many thoughts have run through all of our heads about all the situations surrounding our family. A month after all this has occurred I still feel the urge to run to Babies ‘R Us or Carter’s to buy a cute little pink frilly baby dress for my niece. Instead, I remember we all had to purchase black funeral ones for ourselves in mourning and sadness.
Everyday is different in our house. Some days are easier, some are harder. We all always think about Ashley. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think about her. I think about the memories that should have been made. I think about the ones that one-day will be made when we meet face to face and can hold a conversation. I think of her in her new body soaring on the wings of angels and being held by our Heavenly Father.
I’ve been battling the question, “Am I still considered an aunt??” It’s taken a while for me to figure out if I still am considered one until recently. When people ask me if I am an aunt, or if I have any nieces or nephews, my answer will always be “Yes!” without question. Ashley is as much part of our family and lives as anyone else with our shared DNA. My love for her started from the moment we knew she was in existence – before we ever even knew she was an “Ashley”. While she may not be with us physically anymore, she is always in our thoughts and hearts as our love for her always lives inside us.
Hey Ashley - I love you. And I am NOT afraid to say it!
The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal
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