Most of you who landed here have likely spent time at my daughter, Sarah's site also. (If not, I'm the mom so I'm likely not very objective, but she's worth reading.) If so, you already know about Addison, early birth, heart issues and the DNA scare.

The entire time we were in Dallas, from the birth, through the issues that seemed to come up by the day or by the hour, I felt like I was holding on. I felt like I was holding my finger in a dam - ready to break, spill over and wash me away. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. My mother put it so well - she said we can either "brace for calamity" or let Him embrace us. I did some of both.

When my husband and I left Dallas we didn't have an answer on Addie's DNA. Sarah and Chris had been told it could take up to two weeks to get results. Two weeks?! Waiting is hard, sometimes harder than knowing. I'm not very good at waiting, but who is?

Monday we flew home to Pittsburgh. We went through Chicago, where we had a layover. When we booked the flights we were given a choice of a 23 minute (are ya crazy?) layover or the 2 hour one. I chose 2 hours. We sat in the middle of the concourse, packed with people - reading, sleeping, eating, kids running around, cell phones, laptops - people. My husband and I chatted awhile, had a snack, read awhile. I got out my calendar, looking ahead to see what the week held. I realized I didnt have a pencil for my calendar so I headed down the concourse in search of one.

I found one inside the second bookstore and walked to the counter to pay. My cell phone rang. It was Sarah. We talk about 99 times a day, (or we did before she had #3. I suspect our phone time just went down the tubes.) So I didn't expect anything big, just chitchat. She said - "do you want a late mother's day gift? We got the DNA results."

I held my breath. I told her "I can't breathe." In that moment I knew their lives/our lives might change forever. Time stopped. Terrified to hear the answer, I turned around and walked away from the counter for a bit of privacy. You don't expect to hear 'lives might change forever' news in airport bookstores. She said, "It's all good. The doctors told us to grow her and enjoy her." I fell apart. Those tears that you can't talk through. Those tears that don't make noise. Those tears that make your face look awful in seconds.

After a moment I whispered something, I don't remember what. We hung up. I turned around and walked back to the counter, paid for my pencil. I couldn't talk to the clerk. He took my money and never said a word. I suspect he's seen that happen many times.

I walked back down the concourse, and through broken words gave Sarah's dad the news. He just wrapped me in his arms and held me. When I came up for air I looked a complete mess. Those people all around us had no idea. I was celebrating in Chicago. It'll always be 'my kind of town.'

Labels: Dusty Stuff