The Alternative

Several weeks ago my friend Megan in my online anophthalmia group responded to another parent whom was concerned about things that people will say to or about their child in public. The mom wanted to know how the rest of us ‘handled’ questions or comments. Things like ‘what’s wrong with her’, ‘Why is she sick’, some type of sympathy comment, or the worst ‘I am so sorry’. Megan has learned how to handle those questions with grace. Without making the person asking the questions feel uncomfortable, Megan can answer the questions. She has tact.

More often than not, I find myself explaining things, trying to make the other person feel comfortable. Never mind the fact they just made our family and my children feel like a sideshow.

Here’s the thing - What do you say?

I have juggled this particular issue for a while. I know it is hard. I remember being on the flip side. Depending on the day, our place in time and most often the amount of sleep, my response to ‘those’ questions vary. Sometimes it is easy to turn the other cheek, blow it off, be polite; other times, well….lets just say my facial expression probably speak volumes. No matter the advice I have received about comments, my reaction is always the same. It is easy to bare a solution especially if you have never had the experience - never will have the experience - or only experience the moment on very vast occasions. I call this (sorry if it sounds offensive) the cheap seats. The result of inconsiderate comments results in two things. One, our hearts break. Two, my sons are usually watching, LISTENING and potentially given an opportunity to see Ivey different than what she is - their happy normal baby sister.

Then last week my friend Martha sent me an AWESOME clipping about things said to parents of special needs children. It tackled all of the above and then some. A parent of special needs children wrote the article. It helps to explain a little of what is going on in the lives of the family, our family. Basically, it gives tips on how to strike up a conversation.

Trust me - I have seen the look on ALL of my friends’ faces at some point - the look of ’what can I possibly say to you?’ My friends all got over that months ago. Not long ago I had a friend, I will leave her name out, said she worried when she held Ivey. Of course I asked ‘why? ‘, she is fine. She said “I am always worried about my breath. I don’t want Ivey to recognize me as the lady with smelly breath”. See. They are over it. But there is a world out there that still doesn’t know. The article Martha sent was written to help others get past the awkward and uneasy feeling that most people get when trying to talk to someone with a special needs child. I would love to email it to any one who might be interested.

Despite my own personal feelings and Matt’s personal feelings, Ivey has one awesome life. As her parents, Matt and I worry for her a lot; we bare the brunt of issues. We are handed the other ‘stuff’ that makes her life different. Ivey has no idea that we juggle her financial responsibilities, medical responsibilities, medications, home health, therapies, doctor appointments, a rigorous daily schedule, and countless other tedious responsibilities. She doesn't know things about her are different. But if you take a close look, there is something quirky about all of us.

Ivey wakes up in the morning to a nurse who is so sweet to her. Her brothers and parents come in to her room to kiss her good morning. The rest of her day revolves around feedings, naps, baths and playing. She does have medications, trach care and a few extra things to tend to during the day-but it is her life. Take those out and the rest sounds kind of normal, huh?

If everyone who met Ivey would put their own personal experiences aside, look past her gadgets and sit down with Ivey, talk to her, play with her, interact with Ivey exactly like any other one year old; they would find one very happy baby. More than once I have been asked if she is always so content. Happy. Yes. She pretty much goes with the flow. No, it has not always been that way, but it is NOW. She has a smile that is contagious. Ivey has stamina. Believe in me, she has a whole lot of willpower and a little bit of sass.

Unfortunately, Ivey has something else. Let’s just say it is her sixth sense. If she feels that you are uncomfortable or uneasy, she will not respond so openly. SHE KNOWS.

It probably sounds like I got a little side tracked, not really, just on my soapbox.

Ivey has nothing wrong with her.

She does breathe through a trach which is different from most people, but not all.

She has a feeding tube, so do others.

She is blind; however, she is not the only little blind girl with anophthalmia out there. There are more.

Ivey is not sick. She is as healthy as a horse. Her gadgets do not qualify her as ‘sick’.

Ivey is ALIVE. She is full to the brim of LIFE. Ivey beat the odds. There is no room or time for sympathy or pity around here. If you want to send me or Matt into the deep end just say two words ‘Poor Thing’. That little girl has out done all of us when it comes to overcoming the impossible….PRAISE her!

Last but definitely not least, there is nothing in our lives that we are sorry about. N.o.t.h.i.n.g.

I say all of this because I think 99.9% of all other families who have a child who is considered a special needs child, no matter the multitude, feel the same way.

There is always an ALTERNATIVE question or comment to the one that initially pops into your head. Think before you speak. When all else fails - pay a compliment. It works like a charm. The ice is broken.

Last Tuesday we took all three (Knox, Walker, and Ivey) to the Georgia Aquarium. A lady glanced at Ivey a few times then she asked ‘How old is she?’ That lead to me saying, “She is one and our little peanut”. It went from there, neither of us was uncomfortable. Sure for a moment there was a since of awkwardness, but she was thinking outside of the box. She was considerate.

I love questions that leave room for me to be informative about Ivey. The more knowledge out about her diagnosis, the more people understand, the less there is to be anxious about, the more love in Ivey’s life. Many times if Knox is in the vicinity he will answer questions without me saying a word. (Be ready for the four year old version.)

I guess I run into this so often and honestly have been trying to figure out how I should handle the situations. Not only how I will handle them when they occur, but how I process them in my own head and heart. They hurt. I set the tempo no matter how a question is asked, which question is asked or in what tone it is asked. Isn’t there a quote that states life is 10% what happens to you and 90% your attitude, your reaction? I pray (really really hard) to have kindness for those who do not have compassion. Struggling with that one right now. I have little compassion and limited patience for people who are not getting it. It is hard to believe that people can’t see another person with feelings and emotions sitting right before them, whether it be the parent, child or the siblings. Throughout this process with Ivey we have tried to keep in mind that people react in different ways and in their own time, sometimes because of a lack of knowledge about Ivey’s diagnosis, etc, but when it comes to spoken words and sometimes the unspoken, regardless of knowledge, there can always be thought. When all else fails - just smile.

Her Baptism

One year ago today Ivey was baptized. As with all baptisms, it was a sacred day for her - for us. Her baptism like many events that unfolded in the first few days of Ivey's life, is like a flash of light. One year ago today, Ivey was just shy of being one month old.

I remember more from that one day than I do from all of the rest of the days of her first month. It is funny what the mind chooses to remember - what it chooses to forget. May 22nd was a wonderful day.

I picked out a sweet dress given to Ivey at a shower before she was born. The nurses in the NICU had her all bathed, bow and all for the big day. It was to be Ivey's first day out of the NICU. Arrangements were made for her to be transported to the hospital's chapel. Not the way I would have planned it, but God didn't give that choice.

Ivey was given several gifts that day. Sacred gifts. One was a cross molded to fit into my hand, eventually it will fit Ivey's hand. That cross has traveled to many doctors appointments and stayed many long nights in hospitals. A clinging cross that says Faith on it. It sits above her bed now. The other, a pearl bracelet. I imagine Ivey is much like those pearls.

Ivey was baptized under circumstances that are hard to admit. She was baptized in haste, uncertain of her future, uncertain of her time here on this Earth. Konda, Troyce and Traci surrounded Ivey. Her nurses. Her lifeline. Father Ard presided. We were all happy to take part in the day, yet the unspoken reason we were all in that chapel in a hospital loomed.

Father Ard also lead the sermon during Ivey's presentation to the church. His presence alone was sacred to us. Over the past year he has been somewhat of a mentor, a preacher, a punching bag and some one to tell good news. He understands Ivey.

With his permission, I am posting the sermon from Ivey's presentation at Saint Peter's.

Father Roger Ard:

I especially want to welcome three groups of people: you who are here for Ivey's presentation; you who are here because it is Visitors' Sunday; and you who are visiting today without any knowledge of the other two groups.

I am glad you are here and I need to tell you: you may see something today you have never seen before. I guess I also need to tell you that lifelong members of St. Peter's may see something today they never have seen before.

We do not often present someone who has been previously baptized. In ordinary circumstances, this would be Ivey's baptism. But Ivey is a very special little girl and when in the hospital after birth her health quite fragile state, we baptized her there in the chapel with clergy, family and nurses.

The Prayer Book directs that baptisms be done as quickly as possible in Ivey's circumstances. The Prayer Book directs that should the child's condition becomes more stable, at a convenient time she be presented to the church, her larger family in God.

In twenty-six years as a priest of the church I have attended only one other presentation like this, of my own daughter in 1985. This is a rare event. We all are blessed to be here.

After I finish speaking, the service will continue as it does at baptisms -except Ivey already has been baptized in the Name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Ivey already has been anointed - sealed and marked as Christ's own forever.

So we will not do those things a second time. Baptism is a once in a lifetime sacrament and we do not repeat it. But we will do something else: the asperges.

Funny word that means that we will sprinkle Ivey, family, clergy, congregations with holy water as a reminder that we are baptized, and are grateful to be in the household of God, Christ's own forever.

What is holy water? Holy just means set aside for a special, sacred purpose. It is not magic. It will work like it does in From Dusk Until Dawn when the Preacher fills super soakers with holy water and consigns vampires to oblivion. Nope. Won't work.

What it will do is serve as a reminder to us that, in St Paul's words, we once were buried with Christ in baptism and raised to walk in newness of life; that if we are baptized into a death like his, we will rise to share in a life like his.

Holy water. Water set apart in prayer - to be for us a call to consciousness of who we are, of whose we are.

Some Episcopal Churches do this after every baptism. Many Roman Catholic churches do the asperges every Sunday. Many Episcopal Churches have the font at the door, always containing water set aside, so people as they enter or leave dip a finger into the water and make the sign of the cross upon themselves.

Martin Luther, arguably the most Protestant of Protestants, recommended making the sign of the cross at least twice a day: once upon waking, again before sleeping - as a reminder to ourselves that we are baptized; as a reminder to ourselves to be thankful.

Most of you have not ever seen this before. At St. Peter's we do it every year at the Easter Vigil - this is the first time we have done it on a Sunday morning. Perhaps we will do it more often. Who knows?If it seems a little odd, that's okay. The kids will always get it. For the rest of us? As they say - go with the flow!

In today's gospel Jesus says, I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.

In some ways, Matt and Gwen and Walker and Knox are living in the image of Jesus. They are walking a path they'd rather have had differently. They are laying down their lives for Ivey.

Oh, not completely. But they are laying down the routine of their lives, some of the normalcy of their lives, some of the hopes and dreams of their lives, just about all of their assumptions about their lives.

They have been brought into very deep water. They will be feeling that when water pours into the font.

Deep water.

As Ivey was taking shape, the language of the genetic code got skewed a bit - some words, as it were, got lost from the instructions - and Ivey was made differently than the rest of us.

Still, in God's mysterious grace, beauty came into the world, and even with all the changed realities of their lives, for her family and for her, Joy happens.

My daughter had special needs for a different reason, very different conditions. Brain injuries in a car crash before she was born. She was born 23 years ago, died 19 years ago. Parents are shocked at the pictures that come to us, in our heads.

I woke up one night a couple of years ago, realizing she'd have been graduating from college. I realize today she'd be in a first job, perhaps planning a wedding this summer or next. I don't ask for these images, these thoughts. They come. For a moment, you weep.

Holy water.

Never underestimate the impact of a life. Nineteen years after Mary Ann's death my brother a priest where once I was priest, sent me a Lenten devotional his church member wrote.

Wylie noted the noisy atmosphere and happy children sounds at St. Anne's - pandemonium would not be too much an exaggeration.And then this:Ponder anew the Saint Anne's 10:30
Sunday-Morning-Service some time back. . Saint Anne's was given the opportunity to love and to cherish the new born Mary Ann Ard. Mary Ann . delivered . shortly before [her mother] was taken off . life support systems. Mary Ann, herself, struggled to survive and struggled throughout her own short lifetime to utter sounds.We at Saint Anne's strained to hear her give voice to any sound; to give voice to any sound at all. We also strained to listen for any sound; any sound coming back from the universe; any sound coming back from the universe and
beyond. Any sound at all.

People sometimes apologize for the little noise their children make in church. Others ask me if children in church bother me. The answer is no. They have no idea. No idea.


On the 25th, Ivey and her family celebrated her first birthday. Today we still are celebrating her birth, her baptism, our own baptism - our place in God's family.

During Lent, Gwen spoke one day to a group of youth meditating on the Stations of the Cross. It is not possible for any of us to walk the stations and not think of Mary, watching her Son on the way to the cross.

Certainly there's no way to be Gwen and not feel to the core the vocation of Mary. I know a lot of you keep up with Ivey on her website. In these last days, Gwen wrote this:


This past week I relived every moment of one year ago. It started with what I was doing the days before she was born, what I did the night before she was born, the start of labor, the trip to the hospital, the delivery room and her birth. Then at five thirty in the morning, it all stopped. There were no more memories to relive. At that moment all I had was right then - that moment - no past and no future - there was only pure happiness and relief. A burden instantly lifted. The hard year ended.


God's moment, that was. There have been lots of them. This moment.

This moment always is God's moment. Be mindful. Remember. Be thankful.

We live in a realm of grace. This is the meaning of our baptism. We do not always see it. But sometimes we do.

A child, against all odds, smiling.

A Melting Pot and a Nonplus Question

I went to the melting pot again today. Wal-Mart. It may truly be the one place in the United States that no matter your socio-economic tier, gender, age, religion or race all seem to visit, most weekly. I am always amazed at how much junk we all carry out of that place. I mean junk, for it always ends up in the garabage sooner or later. No matter my agenda for shopping, I leave with at least three things not needed or really wanted. This brings me to my point.

A couple of weeks ago I was standing in line waiting to check out. The lady in front of me was of middle age, and like I said we all have our vices we leave with when shopping at Wal-Mart; she bought cigarettes. I was of course buying several things with a lot of caffeine in them (for me, not the children). I looked behind me; someone else had a buggy full of non necessary stuff thrown in with her groceries. Then the cashier asked the lady in front of me if she would like to donate ONE dollar. The lady shook her head no -

Seriously?

You have all seen them. The little paper hot air balloons that you sign your name on once you agree to donate a dollar. I donated that dollar even before there was an Ivey. I did the other day too. Why? Because it is the right and good thing to do. If I can muster up enough spare change for something chocolate in the line waiting to check out, by George, I can donate one dollar.

That balloon represents The Children’s Miracle Network of Atlanta. That paper balloon represents Ivey. That paper balloon support Scottish Rite. Ivey lived there for over one month. I think I can handle one dollar. The Children’s Miracle Network is non profit. One dollar helps to provide medical facilities and healthcare for sick and injured children.

I also received this in an email from Father Peter today. It has nothing to do with the above; however, I thought it was pretty interesting. Read on...

Did God create evil?

A University professor at a well-known institution of higher learning challenged his students with this question.

"Did God create everything that exists?"

A student bravely replied, "Yes he did!""God created everything?"

The professor asked."Yes sir, he certainly did," the student replied.

The professor answered, "If God created everything; then God created evil. And, since evil exists, and according to the principal that our works define who we are, then we can assume God is evil.

"The student became quiet and did not answer the professor's hypothetical definition. The professor, quite pleased with himself, boasted to the students that he had proven once more that the Christian faith was a myth.

Another student raised his hand and said, "May I ask you a question, professor?"

"Of course", replied the professor.

The student stood up and asked, "Professor does cold exist?"

"What kind of question is this? Of course it exists. Have you never been cold?

"The other students snickered at the young man's question.

The young man replied, "In fact sir, cold does not exist. According to the laws of physics, what we consider cold is in reality the absence of heat. Every body or object is susceptible to study when it has or transmits energy, and heat is what makes a body or matter have or transmit energy. Absolute zero (-460F) is the total absence of heat; and all matter becomes inert and incapable of reaction at that temperature. Cold does not exist. We have created this word to describe how we feel if we have no heat.

"The student continued, "Professor, does darkness exist?"

"The professor responded, "Of course it does.

"The student replied, "Once again you are wrong sir, darkness does not exist either. Darkness is in reality the absence of light. Light we can study, but not darkness. In fact, we can use Newton's prism to break white light into many colors and study the various wavelengths of each color. You cannot measure darkness. A simple ray of light can break into a world of darkness and illuminate it. How can you know how dark a certain space is? You measure the amount of light present. Isn't this correct? Darkness is a term used by man to describe what happens when there is no light present."

Finally the young man asked the professor, "Sir, does evil exist?"

Now uncertain, the professor responded, "Of course, as I have already said. We see it everyday. It is in the daily examples of man's inhumanity to man. It is in the multitude of crime and violence everywhere in the world. These manifestations are nothing else but evil.

To this the student replied, "Evil does not exist, sir, or at least it does not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God. It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created to describe the absence of God. God did not create evil. Evil is the result of what happens when man does not have God's love present in his heart. It's like the cold that comes when there is no heat, or the darkness that comes when there is no light."

The professor sat down.

The young man's name -- Albert Einstein

This is your ever happiest Mother's Day ever.

That's what Knox said this morning. He is right. It is.

The other day a friend quoted something she had read that said something to the effect of..
raising children (toddlers) is like being pecked to death by chickens.
I think we could all attest to that one at times. Atleast I can.

As much as I have loved being a mother, this year alone I have found out exactly what it means to be a mother. There are no limits. It is not always fun. At times my heart swells, others times it breaks. Nevertheless, it always mends. I will walk through fire for my children. I have done just that at certain moments of this year. Not just for Ivey, but also for my two sons.

Last night Matt and I went to a wedding. I sat and wondered what their future held for them. I could not help but smile when I thought of today. What would the person from my wedding have said to the idea of entering into this life that we are now living? Most often, sooner than later, the wife becomes a mom.

I did not get 'it' growing up. Thus, I tested every imaginable boundary with my mom. There are days I guess I still test her. My mom has that same love for me and my sister, yet she loves us both the way we needed to be loved. She will walk through hell for us when she has to. There have been days that she and I have touched the flames of hell together in this past year. Neither of us would trade those day for anything. She laughs. She smiles. Sometimes I get a glimpse of how proud she is to be my mom. I hope she sees how proud I am of her. My mom is a tower of strength.

There are three women who also play important roles in the lives of my children. They are not family by blood, but family by choice. Two Sundays ago they stood together and vowed to love and lead my three children through their lives. Unlike times before, this time they knew the job at hand would have uncertainties, triumphs and at times would be just plain ole' hard work. I consider them brave souls. Each has her own great and unique qualities and personality. Knox and Walker each have one Godmother. Ivey has three.

I have done the hardest deed a mother can do. I admit my weaknesses. To be a good mother to my three children, I will not be able to do it alone; I need help. So Knox has a Godmother, Miranda, she is also Ivey's. Walker has a Godmother, Tasha, she is also Ivey's. Then Ivey has a Godmother that is hers alone, Traci. A circle is complete. Sometimes a mother's love extends well beyond her own heart. It is also in the hearts of her friends.


gwen

Can't Fix What's Not Broken!

(A milestone-crossing midline with her left hand. What does this mean?

The two lobes of her brain communicate.)

"Can you fix it?"

"Yeah sure, but I don't think it's really broken.”

Last weekend I went to Wal-Mart for the finishing touches for Ivey's party. As I was buggying down the frozen food isle, I passed a mom of two, one child had Down's. The little girl was extremely friendly and chattered toward me as long as I was in view. I did my best to speak to her, even though the mom wheeled past me at no less than the speed of light. I resisted the urge to chase the mom down and tell her its okay - I don't mind and secretly I pray that Ivey has those same homecoming queen ambitions about her someday.

On Thursday I ran to Pier One to pick up a cover for a director's chair. Knox accompanied me. As we entered the store five men were sitting in chairs, all of which were handicapped (mentally). I smiled and spoke to them; Knox paid them no attention (nothing unusual in this child's eyes). As Knox and I were circling a stand of candles, I watched the next customer enter the store, curious. The lady walked in looked at the men and her eyes dropped directly to the floor. She was not embarrassed, just uncomfortable. Why is that?

So for the past week, for some reason Ivey turning one really made me hone in on this, I have been debating what Ivey wants out of her future. Here's the kicker - She can't tell me and I can't read her mind.

How should we go about preparing Ivey for her future? How aggressive should we be? Which path should we take? How often should we push? Where should we begin?

I devised a plan.

Step one:
I took Knox and Walker to the library on Friday. No matter what Matt and I do for Ivey or what plan we devise, Knox and Walker will teach her far better than we ever will. We found one book about horses in braille (of course we have no idea how to read it, but it has HORSES!) and cards with the alphabet in braille. The boys were excited. They have no idea that they will develope a talent that most people do not possess. They will teach Ivey. There are specialists out there, but her brothers have a special touch that does not require years of study - they love her and she knows that they are 'different'.

Step two:
Ivey’s therapies are becoming more aggressive. Ivey has speech therapy once a week. For a year now I have kept physical therapy very limited. I also kept Georgia Pines at bay. It was all too much for Ivey. Her viability and growth trumped. Now Ivey is ready. In the past year, I have also asked around and observed other families with special needs. All families are individualized and do what they deem is necessary for their children. Some families are extremely aggressive...got to fix the broken. Other families could care less one way or the other. There are families that I aspire to model...their children are not broken; there is nothing to be repaired. The children need assistance in accomplishing tasks and learning in a different manner than you or I. The families have found the key to their children’s success - moderation. No matter what task Ivey does or does not accomplish or in what time frame, she will be just fine.

So here is where I stand for now. I think if Ivey could tell me what she wanted out of her future it would be very simple. She would want a lot of love and no boundaries. She needs therapy to help bring out her best, but not to make her something that she is not. In the meantime, I will have to speak for her and make some tough decisions on her behalf. A 'plan is in the works. It is complicated and always subject to change. I am sure that there might be a better way, therapies and activities that would be beneficial for her, but for now we are doing this

Ivey's way and our family's unique way.

Ivey also needs time for LIFE...piano lessons....playing...laughing...family....all of the rest will fall into place in due time....not our time.....but her time.

Ivey hard at work.

Ivey is turning her head toward the sound of the rattle.
Balancing for her brother.
The look of sheer determination.
We are working on her torticollis. She has a tendency to look to her right and down. It is hard for her to turn her head to the left. Not impossible, just harder and....it depends on her mood.
Practice. Practice. Practice. Working on arm strength and opening her hands.

It may look like Ivey has her hand up, but look again. This is a signal for her. Her own sign. I was touching her. Now she wants to know where I went. This is her sign to 'touch me' or 'come back'. Most of the time she does this with both hands up. She seems to do it frequently when her brothers are around. I wonder why? Maybe, just maybe, she knows things come flying out of nowhere when they are around! (Self defense.)

Ivey's Village

Have you ever planned a day - to the inth - for it to pass too quickly? Kind of like a wedding reception, you plan plan plan, then in a blink it’s over. Well, I think this past Sunday ranks into that category. This explains why I do not have pictures. I will have to wait for my mom and Lowery to email the ones that they took. My pictures are in my head.

This past Sunday was a duel celebration. We celebrated Ivey’s baptism and dedication. Then we celebrated her birthday - yes again. It was one perfect day, right down to the weather.

I will attempt to keep a very long story short. Thus, I must leave out the good details. Ivey was baptized on May 22, 2006, not even a month after her birth. On rare occasions it is necessary to rush some things. Ivey’s baptism was one of those things. We just didn’t know if there would be time to do it later. Ivey was baptized in the chapel of the hospital. During her baptism she was surrounded by her parents, three nurses and three church clergy. That day was Ivey’s first trip out of the NICU. As sacred as her baptism was, there is sadness in the eyes of everyone in the pictures of that day.

Sunday Ivey was dedicated. This time there was to be no sadness. That doesn’t go without saying; it was a very emotional service. It was a very personal service and many tears were shed. This time the tears were shed out of relief and happiness. The words that were spoken during the service were perfect. Roger thank you. This time Ivey was surrounded by a community who loves and supports her, family, friends and her Godparents. She was surrounded.

I said it for a long time and meant it. We were going to c.e.l.e.b.r.a.t.e Ivey’s birthday. And, we DID. By the end of the day, around two hundred people celebrated Ivey’s first birthday. We wanted to show our gratitude and thanks to everyone possible who helped us over the past year. We did our best to show our appreciation. Thank you everyone.

I was especially grateful to have two very special people attend. The one who brought her into this world was there and the one who kept her in this world. Watching their faces as they held Ivey was the best birthday present this momma could have received. They know and understand the miracle at hand - it was priceless.

(Tissue paper butterflies flittered in the trees)

The day was filled with a LOT of birthday cake, pink, butterflies, and sunshine. A fairy tale.

(Ivy topped the tables)

The day went by too quickly. But we enjoyed every moment of it. I only wish that I could convey how wonderful it was to see so many of our friends and family smile all because of our sweet girl. There have been so many moments that smiles were sparse, to see sheer joy on so many faces was so incredibly rewarding. We all made it through the tough year together.

Ivey was surrounded by her village!

Thank You!