Carried by Love: The Summer That Changed Everything

A Family's Journey Through Fear, Faith, Healing, and Hope

There are moments in life that change you.

Moments that divide your story into a before and an after.

Moments that bring you to your knees, shake everything you thought you knew, and somehow teach you what matters most.

For our family, that moment came this summer.

And as I sit here writing my first blog since June, I'm finding it difficult to put into words just how much life has changed.

I had every intention of sharing my usual July reflections, followed by August, September, and October.

But life had other plans.

Instead of writing about mindfulness, gratitude, and self-care, I found myself living through some of the greatest lessons in all three.

This November feels different.

It's a month of gratitude, a month of reflection, and the month I turn 60—a birthday I came frighteningly close to never celebrating.

And perhaps that's why I feel so deeply called to share our story.

Not because I have all the answers.

Not because everything has been easy since.

But because somewhere in the middle of fear, uncertainty, and unimaginable challenges, our family discovered what it truly means to be carried by love.

The Day Everything Changed

On June 21, Father's Day, our world turned upside down.

Our youngest, E. Kai, suddenly couldn't walk.

What began as a terrifying trip to the emergency room became something far more serious than we could have imagined.

We were told our child was critically ill.

E. Kai was airlifted to Stanford, and Ricky and I began the four-hour drive from our home on the Mendocino Coast.

There are no words to adequately describe what it feels like to know your child is fighting for their life while you're still hours away.

The fear. The helplessness. The prayers.

The desperate need to get there, to hold them, to somehow make everything okay.

Eventually, we learned that E. Kai had aplastic anemia, a rare and serious condition in which the bone marrow doesn't produce enough blood cells.

There were blood transfusions, platelet transfusions, tests, conversations about donors, and plans for treatment.

There was so much information to absorb, so much uncertainty to navigate, and so much hope to hold on to, as we began intensive treatments that would hopefully cure our child.

As a mother, all I wanted was for my child to be okay.

I would have done anything to take their place.

But life was about to take another unexpected turn.

When the Caregiver Became the Patient

Just nine days later, on June 30, I found myself facing my own fight for life.

A rapidly spreading infection in my right leg became a medical emergency.

Ricky and I were on our way to Stanford for our daily visit with E. Kai when my own medical emergency unfolded.

Ricky rushed me to the emergency room at Stanford. We were already headed there to be with our child, and it turned out to be exactly where I needed to be.

I underwent emergency surgery and was admitted to intensive care.

What followed was a frightening and exhausting journey through multiple surgeries, powerful antibiotics, and the uncertainty of what each new day would bring.

And all the while, I was navigating not only my own fight for life, but also the reality that my 20-year-old child was fighting for theirs.

Two unimaginable journeys unfolding at the same time.

It was beyond anything I ever thought I was capable of facing.

There were days when the emotions came in waves. Fear, helplessness, gratitude, heartbreak, hope, and exhaustion, sometimes all at once.

It was overwhelming. Humbling. Eye-opening.

And it changed me forever.

Over the course of those weeks, I underwent 12 surgeries, including a five-hour reconstructive surgery on July 19.

There were moments when my life hung in the balance.

And yet, even in the midst of so much uncertainty, there were extraordinary reasons to be grateful.

The infection had not spread into my muscle, bone, or bloodstream.

The medical teams continued fighting for me.

And somehow, against so much uncertainty, I was still here.

For years, I had encouraged others to slow down, breathe, practice gratitude, and make self-care a priority.

But suddenly, these weren't simply practices I shared with others.

They became the very things helping me find my way through the unimaginable.

Not because they made the fear disappear.

But because they helped me find moments of peace within it.

One breath.

One moment.

One day at a time.

The Love That Carried Us

When I look back on those weeks, I remember the fear.

But I also remember the love.

Oh, how I remember the love.

My husband, Ricky, became my rock through circumstances neither of us could have imagined.

Our daughter Gia, our family, our friends, and so many beautiful souls surrounded us with prayers, encouragement, kindness, and unwavering support.

My mother, my sister, my bonus mom Mercedes, my best friends, and loved ones near and far reminded us again and again that we weren't walking through this alone.

And the doctors, nurses, and medical professionals who cared for us became part of a story we will carry in our hearts forever.

Sometimes love arrived as a phone call.

Sometimes as a reassuring smile.

Sometimes as a hand to hold, a message, a prayer, or someone simply showing up.

I learned that strength doesn't always mean being the one who holds everything together.

Sometimes strength means allowing yourself to be held.

And sometimes the greatest blessing isn't having the strength to weather the storm.

It's having people who refuse to let you weather it alone.

That is where Carried by Love was born.

A New Chapter, A Different Perspective

I know I will never be quite the same woman I was before this summer.

And I'm beginning to understand that I don't have to be.

I can honor the woman I was, appreciate everything she carried me through, and gently embrace the woman I'm becoming.

Someone who hugs a little longer.

Who notices the sunlight through the window.

Who appreciates an ordinary Tuesday.

Who understands that laughter, rest, connection, and moments of peace are gifts worth celebrating.

Someone who no longer wants to rush through life waiting for the next milestone.

Because life itself is the milestone.

On November 23, I will celebrate my 60th birthday.

Sixty years of learning, loving, growing, falling, rising, and becoming.

This birthday will mean more to me than I ever could have imagined.

And as I enter this new decade, I want to carry forward the lessons this journey has placed so deeply in my heart.

Not every day will be easy.

Not every question will have an answer.

But every day offers another opportunity to love, to notice, to breathe, and to begin again.

And that is a gift I no longer take for granted.

The Beginning of Carried by Love

As I close this reflection, I want to share something that has been growing in my heart.

I'm beginning to write a book.

Carried by Love: A Family's Journey Through Fear, Faith, Healing, and Hope.

It will be our family's story, but my hope is that it becomes something more.

A companion for anyone sitting in a hospital waiting room.

For the mother who is afraid.

For the caregiver who is exhausted.

For the person learning to trust their body again.

For anyone navigating grief, uncertainty, recovery, or a chapter they never saw coming.

I want these pages to hold not only our experiences, but also gentle places to pause, breathe, reflect, and find hope.

Because if this journey has taught me anything, it's that our stories have the power to remind someone else that they're not alone.

And perhaps sharing ours will help another person find a little light in the middle of their own storm.

💜 Hope to Hold On To

"We don't always get to choose the storms that change our lives. But sometimes, in the midst of everything we never imagined we'd face, we discover a love deeper than our fear, a strength gentler than we expected, and a gratitude that forever changes the way we see the world."

Coming Next: Part 2 — A November of Gratitude, Grace & the Gift of Another Day

In my next blog, I'll be sharing some of the gentle practices that have helped me reconnect with gratitude, mindfulness, self-compassion, and hope.

My November intentions, affirmations, glimmers, reflections, and little rituals for embracing the beautiful gift of another day.

Because while we may not always get to choose what life brings us, we can learn to meet ourselves—and each other—with a little more love along the way.

Thank you for being here, for allowing me to share this chapter, and for being part of a community rooted in love, kindness, and connection.

With Love & Light,

T 🤍

Recovering Perfectionist @4logansrun

Self-care Advocate 💕 Self-love Warrior

Empowering Inspiring & Supporting Women