Parenting Through Seasons of Change
John playing golf.
School is starting again. Although I don’t have anyone in school around me now, I remember well what it was like to fall back into the routine.
I would try to get my boys ready a few weeks early—moving dinner up, getting them into the habit of baths, and easing bedtimes back before that first day. The truth? It rarely worked. We usually stumbled through those first weeks before the rhythm returned. That’s when the troll on my shoulder loved to show up with sharp words, whispering that I was unworthy and failing as a parent.
But there were small mercies. Once school began, I gained back a little time. Not having to worry about lunch for anyone else gave me back an hour or more each day, which sometimes felt like a gift.
When the boys were young, none of them had health issues. Up until John was twelve, we had a fairly normal list of worries. Then everything changed.
The Day Everything Changed
That January, Mike got sick. I remember walking into school, asking them to pull John out of class. We told him I was taking his dad to Hays—90 miles away—to the regional hospital. We didn’t know when we’d be back, or how to help him manage the after-school hours.
His life shifted that day, like a fence line suddenly moved, leaving him unsure where he belonged.
The years that followed were filled with miles and waiting rooms—Hays, Denver, The Mayo Clinic in Rochester, KU Med in Kansas City, MD Anderson in Houston. Over 57,000 miles of hope, fear, and rusting patience.
Mike died the June before John’s senior year, leaving another jagged crack in the foundation of normal.
Holding Life Together
Mike watching John at a golf tournament.
We tried to keep John’s world steady. Sports, activities, encouragement. Mike especially loved watching him golf, tracking down stray balls that had rolled out of bounds. Years later, John told me he worried, every time we left for appointments, that he’d never see his dad again. Eventually, it became so common that he adjusted, assuming we’d be gone “a while” and then return.
And then came the seizures. Tests that showed nothing. Doctors who said the tests were “stubbornly normal.” I started to wonder if they were the result of years of little traumas—stacked one on top of another—compounded by never feeling fully safe.
College brought more strain. The pandemic shut down his second semester, he struggled with finals, and it all took a toll. His nervous system had been carrying too much, for too long.
If you are a parent of a child with seizures, you know how life can turn upside down without warning. Caregiving is hard. It takes more than it gives, sometimes leaving only the rusted remains of your own energy.
That’s why I created Brave Connections—a retreat where you can step away, even briefly, and reset. If your child is school-aged and you finally have a little space to breathe again, take some of it for yourself.
Click the button below to find out more, and let’s chat to see if it’s a good fit for you.
Onward!
