February 8

Today marked the first of two very difficult days this month. One hundred and four weeks ago, Abby and I left our mother/daughter dance class, rolled through the McDonalds drive thru for a bite to eat, and then headed home. When we got there, Adam and the Little Boys were sitting on the driveway waiting for us. And I knew. My heart broke into a million frantic pieces because I knew what it meant. We drove to CHO through intermittent rain showers that fell from a cloudy sky. And then we had to say our see-you-laters to the person we'd devoted our lives to saving for 18 months.

That day changed me. Forever. It took a lot of out of me. It made me believe a little less and doubt myself a lot more. And I don't look at Saturdays in the same way.

But it was what it was and is what it is.

I struggled to find an image that would adequately express what I wanted to say today, and finally settled on this.

A Lightning McQueen Band Aid.

It covers wounds and keeps them clean, allowing healing to happen underneath. And they provide a cute, innocuous covering for an otherwise unattractive wound. So though not a permanent solution, they're a part of the healing process.

And on this second anniversary Saturday, as I'll call it, I'm grateful that I have band aids in my life so I can cover my wounds when they're just too painful to look at.