Friday, August 3, 2012


I stood in the lake today, waist deep, my hands caressing the surface of the water.  I watched the sun glinting diamond refractions in the ripples of the water as the sun dipped slowly towards the mountain.  I had no thoughts.  Just a peaceful, quiet, feeling.  A "just be" kind of feeling where everything is all right and for that one moment everything is perfect.

It reminded me of my time with Anaya.  Living in the present.  Loving the moment.  Not allowing the bad thoughts to take over...just to be...
so I thought I'd write her this note.

Dear Anaya,
We think of you and hold you in our hearts every day.  When I see a rainbow I think of you.  Today I saw a little girl your age wearing a rainbow sun-dress.  She was adorable.  I smiled and thought of you.  I also think of you when I see butterflies.  Your sister had a lemonade stand today and was talking to people about you... and then a big yellow butterfly came soaring by my face and landed on the flowers beside me.  I looked at it and said "Hi, sweet pea."  I don't think I've called anyone a sweet pea since the last time I saw you.  The words felt so strange on my lips.  I don't know where they came from...they just leapt out.  Maybe it really was you...part of your spirit.

Sometimes I miss you so much that just the memory of you hurts.  I know it sounds silly but I don't sit in my memories enough.  I've never even gone back and re-read my blog.  I'm too scared to feel the depth of how much I miss you, how hurt I am... how I failed in so many ways.  I didn't have regrets before...and I don't have regrets now...just things I would do differently.  Looking back leaves me feeling breathless and causes heart ache that I fear will never go away.

I just want to kiss rub my face against your perfect peachy cheeks.  Kiss your little rose bud lips.  Kiss your fingers and toes.  Kiss your eyelids.  I want to sing you songs and read you stories and take you to the beach to put your feet in the sand.

I know that you had to go, and that we kept you here beyond your time.  I know that it couldn't have been different... but my heart doesn't understand.  My heart still beats in time with yours.

I wish you were still coming to me in my dreams.  Every night I have horrible nightmares and I am glad that you aren't in them.... but i'd rather have good dreams of you...than the violence I'm experiencing.  I even saw children burning alive in my dream the other night and I tried everything to save them...but couldn't get past the flames. You really don't want to hear about it.  Sometimes I feel so tired in the morning after my bad dreams that I feel like I could sleep all day and not get out of bed.

Solara is being goofy and I like listening to her giggle.  God I wish I could laugh and giggle like that again...

Anyways, I'm sorry for rambling on little love.  I miss you.  The words I miss you don't do the feeling justice.  It's like somebody turned the "joy" switch off.  I miss your father too.  Lately I wish I could be with him every minute of every day.  I love him, I love your sister, I love the dogs... I love too much and sometimes I feel too much too intensely.  The doctor says it's part of my Post Traumatic Stress disorder...but I don't know how to fix it.  I've been this way since childhood.  Feeling too much.  Being too intense, giving all of myself, being impulsive, reckless and passionate. Fighting anxiety and loneliness.  The horrible feeling of being different that everyone else.
I'm really tired now baby girl and I think I'm going to go to bed.  I hope and pray to see you tonight - but I have my doubts.  I love you always and forever.


Sunday, July 29, 2012

A brighter hope in a dark time

I figured that it is time for a deeper update.  You may have been wondering how myself, Solara and Brent are doing.

When Anaya died at the BC Children's in Vancouver we were pretty much homeless.  The motor home that we were using to take Anaya south had died in Oregon and all of our stuff was in storage.  We were at a cross roads.  What do we do?  Where do we go?  We were uncertain and decided to stay in Vancouver, get jobs, and try to make a difference in the lives of others.

I started working at FundRazr (an online fundraising company) and on the side I helped to form Anaya's Angels Society.  A non-profit to help children and their families deal with Krabbe Leukodsytrophy.  I immersed myself in work.  I would go to work, and then come home and work more.  I had a strong sense of duty and a driving desire to help others.  I was feeling alright.  Weired that someone who just lost a baby can feel alright.

Several times I was called upon to go help other children with Krabbe.  I went to Italy in February to help Ginevra's family and Mexico in March and June to help Gabriel and Sam's families.  Each trip was fund raised and paid for by my giving friends and their friends who wanted to help.  It was amazing to be able to hold these beautiful children, and help them.  To be able to teach their parents how to comfort them and control the symptoms that are so similar to Anaya's.  The suctioning, the positioning, the oxygen....chest therapy...all the same.

I'm not certain what happened but when I returned from my last trip to help Sam in Mexico I was devastated.  He was so incredibly sick.  He was suffering badly and he needed much more than I could give him.  Suddenly I felt my grief for Anaya more than I ever had before.  I collapsed in tears, sobbing for hours alone.  My heart felt like an empty hole of agony.  The world seemed dark and lonely and terrifying.  I started having anxiety attacks.  I couldn't focus at work, my relationship with Brent seemed far away and everything in my life felt overwhelming and awful.

I started writing about my childhood trauma because I was having nightmares about it and I thought maybe it would be a good idea to write about it to try to get it out.  That was going well until my family got upset about me telling everyone about it.  I stopped writing.  The world felt even darker.  I felt even more alone.  No matter what I did I felt either numb or in pain.  Even when I try to logically tell myself that it is just grief....I feel alone and in pain that is beyond sadness.  I started having dreams about accidents where I would die - and in my dream I would be happy because I knew that I would be okay and I would be with Anaya and God.  

Each day I became worse.  My panic attacks were coming more and more often - leaving me breathless and wild-eyed, with my heart feeling like it was going to beat out of my chest and I couldn't breathe.  Brent started working nights and I was home alone often.

I don't have many close friends where we live right now.  All of the people I know are either in Nelson or Calgary.  I do "know" people in the lower mainland - but they don't call me to talk, or come over to visit and I feel awkward and imposing in their presence.  I feel so incredibly alone and the world seems pointless.  Living seemed pointless.

I got to the point where I was in a very very depressed state.  I realized that I needed help to overcome these feelings - to be strong for my family - to get to the point where I could again help others.  I decided to take a few days off work to go home to Nelson and see the "family" of friends and neighbors who loved us and helped us when Anaya was alive.  Every one of them was glad to see me.  Every one of them cared and wanted to see more of us.  I spent time with my close friends and for the first time in months I was happy and at peace.  I babysat my friends daughter (who is the same age as Anaya would be) and instead of feeling pain and sadness I felt joy and appreciated her beauty.  Another time I sat with my friend Amanda and looked over the lake and told stories of when I was pregnant and sitting on the same beach the day before I gave birth.  We laughed.  I stayed at my friend Dave's house for many nights in his guest room, and I always felt welcome and safe.  It was almost like a dream.  

I decided I wanted to move back to Nelson and started trying to think of a way to make it a reality.  I picked up Solara in Kamloops (her godfather Grant gave her a ride from Calgary) and we spent a few days in the okanagon on our way back to Vancouver.  But knowing I was heading back to Vancouver kindled my anxiety and depression and Brent and I started fighting.  I felt hopeless and lost, even in Solara's presence.  I couldn't feel fun or happiness.  I felt like a zombie, like a dead rotting corpse that somehow wasn't a corpse at all.

I was supposed to return to work when we got back, but I couldn't.  I was still feeling awful, beyond awful.  I was crying so hard that I couldn't breathe.  Worried about finances, stressed over decisions I had made in the past and unable to focus on any specific tast except to worry.

I went to see a doctor, talked to a counsellor and asked for help with my anxiety and grief.  They said they weren't surprised that I'm like this.  They said they are surprised that I was functioning at all for the past eight months.  They recommended that I take some time off work to heal, and that with the trauma from my childhood - that it may take a while.  So now I'm on medical leave.  Seeing a counsellor every few days and spending time with Solara.

Then something amazing happened.  Our old landlord in Nelson called me and asked us if we'd like to move back into the house in September.  I started crying.  I'd like that more than anything in the world.  To be home with my friends that are my family, to be would mean everything to me.  I told Solara and she was ecstatic.  She started begging me  "Please! Please! Please!  I want to be in Nelson!  Please!"

So Brent and I talked it over and decided that we are going home.  Somehow we will make it work.  Solara has started selling lemonade and rainbow bracelets to help cover the moving costs, and Brent has started looking for work in Nelson.  I feel hope on the horizon.  I will work on firmly establishing Anaya's Angels as soon as we get settled back at home.

Friday, April 13, 2012

The long light of spring

The light that sparkles over the lake from the brightly setting spring sun filters its soft fingers through the trees.  The ground already dims, leaving the grass a darker green.  Floating lazily on the wind fluffy tufts of white pass like snowflakes falling sideways in a warm cloudless sky.

The flying ones, I know not which, spiral dizzily around each other.  Exoskeletons and wings dancing to music unheard by human ears.  At times it seems to speed and slow – bodies coming close together and twisting away.  The long light of the impending sunset sets their spirits ablaze with a fury of life and they fairly glow golden.  I long to know the movements of the dance, and the knowledge behind it.  I see the beauty so clearly – the purpose, the life.

Looking beyond the swarm across the lawn I can see the glinting crystalline peaks of the small waves on the lake – sunlight scattered on its surface like a million faceted diamonds  of priceless value.  To the right a tree begins to bud out its leaves and the yellow light of sunset sets them a brilliant hue of fluorescent green.  I hear a child laugh.  It echoes through the moment and reverberates in my head.

A child playing at the park.  

I close my eyes and open them again, wishing I could reach out and wrap my arms around Anaya.  Alas, she is too massive for me to enfold with my body.  But not with my spirit or my mind.  I stretch all of my senses out.  My eyes caress the beauty, my ears carefully open to the laughter,  birds, the wind, the tinkling sound of water dripping.  Even the whir of the dancing bugs.  The fading sunlight I can feel on my skin and as I breathe in the clean air and taste my own health.  

She is here.

My heart warms with her presence as the realization flows into me.  She’s definitely here.  A love I’ve only known to be hers bursts forth wihin my heart and I allow myself to lose myself in it – gently gazing through the yard and beyond – to the trees, the lake and the setting sun.

Oh Anaya.  My little love.  How you’ve grown.

Sunday, March 25, 2012

Miss Anaya

I know that it's been a long time since I've written. Even longer since I've really written something worth reading. Something worth my salt, as it were. I could go on and give you a detailed history of the last few months, but that's not the heart of it. The details are in the moments and the moment is now.

I see her everywhere. I mean that I see her in my imagination. Like when I look at the bathtub. I experience my memories of singing to her in the bath. Holding her while she would float, her head pushing back into my hands, her feet pressed against the end of the tub. When I lay in bed and I cannot sleep I can feel the weight of her head on my chest, where she used to lay.

In the sunlit beauty of a rainbow I see the millions of colors of her beautiful soul and I know she is free. Most of the time my love for her overcomes my grief. But not always.
I was completely in love with her. The love that parents have for their babies. The love that makes you count the fingers and toes multiple times. But it was beyond that. She was more than just a baby. More than my beautiful daughter. She was an angel on earth and when I say she was my greatest teacher I mean it. Completely.

Healing Anaya began as a cause. We wanted to Heal Anaya. We wanted to cure her from her disease, prove the doctors wrong, work miracles. I prayed to every God, screamed for help from the stars, and we tried everything. It was when everything "failed" that I began to learn my lesson.

Anaya was meant to live her life just the way she was. Her purpose for this life was to influence myself, our family and those who came into contact with her. Her essence was pure innocent love. Her body became very weak. She experienced suffering. Struggling to breathe must be one of the worst things that a being can feel. Being in a body without having control - to do something as simple as breathe or swallow - oh my heart hurts from the pain of imagining it and remembering her going through it.

I know that we did the right thing in letting her go when she could no longer breathe on her own. She deserved the freedom, the ability to transform her energy into something new. To rise and expand and be with God, unencumbered by the beautiful fragile shell that was her body.

I would have done a few things differently. I do not live in regret - but I've had a lot of time to thing and there are some things I would do different if there ever was a next time.

I would ask someone to help me thank every single soul who ever helped us. I would make it a priority to let them know how much it meant - and how much it helped.

I would have had my grandparents motorhome inspected before agreeing to take it - and I would not rely on anyone's word who was not an unbiased third party.

I would have flown Brent, Solara, Anaya and Myself south for the winter to spend our final days together in the sun - but I thought this wasn't an option. I thought it was selfish to spend donations that way and impossible to take all of Anaya's equipment etc without a vehicle. We wanted to help others. We wanted to spread the word about newborn screening and about saving beautiful children like Anaya. -

We didn't get very far but I know we had a huge influence on the people we met along the way.

What else would I do differently? I would have taken more videos.

I would not have alienated two of the most important women in my life, that I loved. Anaya's nurses. Difference of opinion happens and I was too hurt and too stubborn to see the other side. But I love them. Joanne and Carol - I love you both.

Those are the only things I would have done differently and there's no point in dwelling on them because they are things that I cannot change. All I can do now is help others - because it makes me feel good. It makes me feel like I am giving back. Paying it forward. I know that my time on earth is short. I know that one day death will come for me and I am ready for it when it happens.- But it's not now!

Anaya taught me to live by putting one foot in front of the other. To go on when there is nothing in sight to go on to. She taught me what faith is, and what it means to be human. Since I've begun living moment to moment things have opened up in the most incredible way. I meet genuinely good people everywhere. I meet people - real deep souls, every day. I know now that we can create our lives to be what we want them to be if we believe that we can. If we have faith and take action and be willing to go too far- just to see how far we can go.

Sure, I didn't live my life with Anaya the way that other people think I should have. But they aren't me, and they didn't live life with Anaya. Let me tell you that I am glad that I had her. I am grateful forever for the experience of being with her just the way she was. It changed me profoundly. I will never be the same.

I see her everywhere. Everywhere. In everything. Sometimes when I am looking into Brent's eyes and I remember her and "see" her in my mind I cannot stop the tears from falling. The sobs from wrenching my heart apart. I sometimes scream in my grief, the same way that I scream in my joy. (What can I say - I'm one of those loud people)

My emotions have always been extreme, since I was a child and my parents divorced and my world came crashing down with the hatred between my two favorite people. My mother and father. But now my emotions are different. I know myself now. I am not as easily caught up in self-pity or doubt. My self esteem has improved and I'm more in love with the world and less attached to it.

Any moment could be my last. That's why I do so much with my life now. Everything is sweeter, more beautiful, more ephemeral. Life is more fun, love is much deeper and challenges are less impossible.

When it's my time I'm going to meet Anaya and I'm going to pick her sweet little self up and spin her around and listen to her giggle. Then I'm going to hear the words "I love you Mama. You did good Mama." and I will smile and say "So did you, Miss Anaya."

Thursday, March 8, 2012

I went to help Anaya's buddy Gabriel in Mexico

Last weekend I went to Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico to help a sick little boy named Gabriel. He has Krabbe Leukodystrophy. His condition is progressing and his mother asked me if I had any suggestions. It is very hard to teach someone from afar. So I decided I would go there to help. I was there for 2.5 days and It was amazing.

Gabriel's parent's are Mayte and ARmando. Pronounced (Mai-tay). They told me that my visit changed their lives for the better. Gabriel even misses me. I miss him too. Anyways, here is a compilation video of my trip - but most of the really intense training went unrecorded- because I had to type and gesture the whole time - which is not conducive to filming.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

In the Space that Belongs to you

Angel and Anaya
In the space that belongs to you I have placed your soft blankets.
I put my love there
and my tears.

In the space that belongs to you I have hung rainbows.
I place my kisses there
and sweet "I love you's"

In the space that belongs to you your puppy plays.
Her softness there
and wet kisses.

In the space that belongs to you I have seen rainbow sunsets.
I see your beauty there
and my own.

In the space that belongs to you I am safe and comforted.
I feel your love there
and I am whole.

In the space that belongs to you there are no walls.
Children play and the sun shines
seeing the joy that is your soul.

The space that belongs to you isn't a place.
It's a love and a memory- the smiles and tears on my face.

I see you everywhere Anaya, and I know that it's true.
You've always loved me, as much as I loved you.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Love and Happiness

Love. How do you explain love to someone who's never experienced it? What is love?

It is an opening. A deep understanding of the root of life, on a subconcious level. It is beauty. Beauty like that which you have never seen with your eyes nor heard with your ears. It is a connection, a knowingness. It is seeing yourself reflected in another, and knowing your own inner beauty. It is a strength. A strength that wells up in the core of your being. A mighty power of will that cannot be defeated. It is vulnerability, but not weakness. It is courage and freedom, and innocence. It is Fierceness and joy. The leap of faith that takes the Eagle off the mountaintop into the sky soaring amongst the clouds into the twilight of the sun.

It is acceptance. It is joy. It is sadness. It is what makes life worth living. It is something that can never be taken from you. It is what I feel inside.

Happiness is not a place you can be travel to. It is not something that can be bought. Or sold. It is a spiritual experience attained through living each moment with love, grace and gratitude.

Anaya, I love you. Thank you for teaching me to live my life with Love. And for teaching patience. And compassion. Because of your teaching I often walk the path of happiness, even when I miss you.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012


If you would like to read about my work in Italy with little Krabbe Baby Ginevra and her family please visit my new blog at 

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Camara: Love in Action - Italy 1 - YouTube

Today I got into the office and started by checking my Facebook.

My first message was from a couple in Italy. Their daughter, Ginevra, has Krabbe Leukodystrophy. She is such a beautiful baby girl. They said that she was having trouble breathing and they asked me if I had any advice for them. They told me that their doctors have never seen a baby with Krabbe. I had already told them what I could from I asked if they wanted me to come there and help them. They said yes. I booked a flight immediately and decided I would worry about paying for it later. I'm hoping that my friends and other caring people will pitch in. The round trip is only $1100. We've already raised $350.

So now I'm sitting at the gate waiting for my plane. I've never left the continent before and I'm really excited.

I'm even more excited to hold baby Ginevra in my arms and give her the sweetest kiss. Krabbe Babies are like nothing else. Super soft angelic beauties.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012


It's been a while since I've written I know.  I apologize.  It's just that I don't know how to convey what I am feeling without making everyone else sad.  Here goes.

There are moments of stillness in the night when I lay awake and cannot sleep.  My heightened awareness of Anaya always had me sleeping lightly.  I used to fall asleep to the sound of her soft little breaths.  Sometimes gurgley breaths.  But noise all the same.  Now the room is so still without those sounds that I have to get up, go to the bathroom, and go back to bed - just so that I don't lay there observing the silence and getting depressed.  I take my rainbow frog that is approximately the size of a toddler, and I hold it to my chest with Anaya's prayer / love blanket.  I imagine I am holding her, and the feeling of the stuffy is comforting.  I fall asleep again.

I never knew how incredibly tired I was until fairly recently when it seems like my body decided it was time to cash-in on the sleep I owed it.  I have literally slept for 18 hours straight three days this week.  We're starting to sell off the things we had for Anaya that we have no use for right now and that aren't sentimental, but valuable and can help us pay the bills.  For instance the breast milk deep freeze that we bought brand new one year ago.  Her new car seat - (Britax super supportive baby-big kid), Etc.

It feels like a little bit of my heart peels away every time something of Anaya's goes out the door. I know it's just stuff.  It's the memories associated with the stuff that I don't want to lose.

On the home front: I have never ever cared less about the appearance of my home.  I know it used to be important to me but right now I have a huge stack of receipts/bills/papers/stuff on my desk, on my dresser etc.  I cleaned the shower today and it was epic.  I didn't do the rest of the bathroom.  Just the shower.  The rest wasn't dirty enough.  I don't know if I'm lazy or crazy or what.  I just know that housework does not inspire me at all.  I haven't even finished unpacking.  I'm afraid to go through those boxes.  I never have guests.  In Nelson people would just drop by.  Here most of my friends work and then spend time with their families at night. I miss having company.  Maybe then I'd be inspired to finish unpacking and keep my home it a straighter state of affairs.  Don't get me wrong.  My home isn't disgusting or anything.  It's just that I'm a Virgo and I'm usually quite anal retentive about keeping things neat and tidy.  It's really out of character for me to have not cleaned the whole bathroom at once...

The thing I find most inspirational right now is my work.  I really love working for FundRazr.  The people are great.  I'm not just saying that.  My boss is a really decent human being, who wants to change the world for the better.  I find joy in helping others.  In the past 2 weeks I feel as though I have made a significant impact on people's lives.  I feel great knowing that I helped these people in their time of need.  I will continue to do so.  (But keep in mind I'm human and I rest on weekends and at night most of the time)

The last few days I've been really sick and tired.  I decided that maybe a cleanse would help break me from my lethargy and exhaustion.  I'm now on day 3 of the Master Cleanse.  Yesterday I had a horrible headache.  I'm feeling much better now and in the morning when I head into the office I hope I will still feel alright.  I know that if I continue on with the cleanse for at least a few more days it will have an amazing impact on my health, and my spirits.

Brent has been working on his illustrations.  Solara is having trouble with math, but is loving having her friends to play with at home. And Angel is an attention fiend who always wants to be cuddled up to something.  I'm not sure why her breath is so bad but it's as nasty as mine is (cleanse breath).  I think it might have something to do with her food containing fish.  She has fishy breath.  Ugh.  My friend Penny told my that Golden Retrievers just smell bad - but that can't be right!  She is unwittingly drawn to sparkles and when the crystal that hangs in the window spins rainbows around the room in the sun, she FREAKS out and starts running back and forth barking.  When I type on my computer she sits and watches the reflection on the wall, occasionally attacking it.

I'm heading to bed now.  I know this update wasn't spectacular - it's just the surface.  

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

All is not Lost

As I was coming out of Waterfront Station there was a single car in the parking lot.  Across the front it said "All is Not Lost".  It was for a data recovery service.  It was also a message from Anaya.

Mostly I fear to tell you about my moments of despair.  I think because those moments scare me.  I don't want to be trapped in despair and depression and I work hard to keep myself out of it.  Sadness is different.  Sadness is alright and when I feel sad, I feel sad.  I let it out.  I cry.  The other day I screamed and bawled into my pillow with sadness for more than an hour.  It needed to come out.  Then there are moments of despair that can creep in when I am really tired and stressed.  Moments when I wonder what the point of being alive is.  Moments where I can't feel love and don't feel loved.  I think everyone has a wide range of emotions, myself more so.  I am rather extreme sometimes.  Either I'm really good or really sad.  I try to find a balance and lately have been having more "Ok" times.  I find the more I help others the better I feel.

Today I was on the train and I was sitting by the door.  A young man (so cute-looked like Clark from Smallville) got on the train with crutches.  I offered him my seat and sat down beside him.  He smiled at me.  I asked him what happened.  He got out his dictionary and explained to me in a very french dialect, using broken English, that he had sprained his ankle.  I encouraged his efforts to speak English and then switched to Spanish - where we had a bit more common ground.

Just then the police boarded the train and asked to see every one's tickets.  I turned to Benjamin (blue eyed french boy) and he looked puzzled.  I pulled out my ticket and showed him and said he needed to get his out. He searched through his wallet and found it. The cop came over, looked at Benjamin's ticket and said "You didn't scratch your Zone.  I'm going to give you a $170 ticket."  Well I could tell that Benjamin did not understand what was being said, and I was certain that he didn't know about scratching zones.  I spoke to the officer.
"I don't think he understands you.  He doesn't speak English well.  Do you speak French?"
"No, but my partner does." He waved his female partner over.  She spoke gently and kindly to Benjamin and scratched off his zone and explained it to him.  They got off the train.

Benjamin said "What was the man meaning?"  I told him he was going to get a $170 ticket.  His eyes opened wide and he said "Really?".  I smiled and nodded.  He thanked me.  We chatted a bit about how he is here to learn English.  Then it was his stop and he hopped away on his crutches.  He dissapeered into the crowd and I smiled as the train moved on.

Then I got off the train and there in the parking lot was my sign.

"All is not lost"

Here's to another day of helping people, another day of being the rainbow in the lives of people willing to look up and see me.  The way I look and see her.  Everywhere.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

The Rock in the Storm

I have discovered something about myself. It's an incredible strength. I find it is now a natural part of me.  It is an ability to deal with trauma.  My own, and others.  An ability to stay calm, not panic, and take action.  When my grandfather was dying in September - I helped the paramedics by providing suction and maintaining the airway.  When Anaya was having respiratory arrest - I was giving critical information to the trauma team, suctioning her throat, venting her G tube, helping the nurse find the correct spot to take her blood pressure.  I held her head in position so that they could insert the breathing tube down her throat into her lungs.  I gave oral summaries to the trauma team, the pediatric ambulance crew and our ICU nurses.  I held the flashlight for the paramedic in the plane as we flew through the rain in the night.  I did it all again when we arrived at the BC Childrens.

Then I was the one who took the mask off.  I maintained her comfort, ordered the morphine and removed all the tubes and wires.  Then I gave her every ounce of love and energy that I could.  It flowed out of me like a river and supported her soul in it's crossing.  It was not a time of grieving it was a time of support.  She needed my strength, and I had it.  It was inside me.  It was a rock in the storm.  Unmovable, stable.  Yet my hard had not hardened, my soul had not withered.  I was not the only one there, yet I was so focused that they seemed to fade from my reality.  The love swirled around the room like a rainbow tempest and then she was gone.

The body I held in my arms was not Anaya.  It was only the body that she had inhabited.  I loved her body too.  I kissed her sweet cheeks, her fingers, her toes. I stroked her hair.  Then I set her down gently on the bed and left the room and never went back in.

What a precious blessing to have learned this strength in my lifetime.  What an incredible gift I can share with others.  I noticed I can still do it.  I can still manage trauma like a rock in a storm - with a wide open heart and a clear soul.

The day before yesterday I got a message asking for help.

"House Fire, children and husband dead - mother alone and in shock -Fundraising starting to help her."

I began researching and I found newspaper articles with dead links that informed people to head to a non-existant Facebook Page. I immediately took action, connecting with the administrators who had begun assembling a group of support.  I started a Facebook Page that would match the media attention, migrated the existing users and started an online FundRazr to make it easier for people accross the country to donate while there was still immediate interest.

I combined my skills with dealing with trauma and fundraising with social media  - all the while my heart burned with the fire of her loss.

 I can see it all so clearly in my mind as if I was her.  Running down the street towards the flames and smoke screaming for my children.  Being held back from throwing myself into the burning wreckage to try to save them.  The heat from the blaze is scorching, the air thick with smoke. Struggling to breathe I continue screaming and weeping with terror and grief.

Then the fire is out.  The smoke clears.  And they are all gone and I am alone, surrounded by people, but completely alone.  I have nothing. No clothes, no toothbrush, even my favorite pillow is gone.  My partner, my heart, my babies. My babies. Blinking, I feel the world caving in on me and I breathe staggered breaths. My chest aches as though there is a black hole in my heart and it feels like it will kill me.

That is how I imagine it.  Deep and traumatic and raw.  I can feel it.  I know that one of the human body's survival mechanisms is shock.  I know that right now she will be in shock.  She may be unable to focus, feel anything, or even grieve.  The whole world is alien and everything is messed up and confusing.  I know that it will be that way for a while.

That is why she needed my help.  Why she needs OUR help.  We, who are in a state of strength, have the ability to reach out and make a difference in someone's time of need.

I am Camara.  I am strong and I can help make a difference in people's lives - with a wide open heart and a soul filled with rainbows.  You can make a difference too.  Share this link and give this woman a moment of your own strength.  If you know someone who needs my help - send them to me.  I have the strength.