Some days are just harder than others.

Some days are just harder than others.

Today has been one of those days, and honestly, I'm not even sure I can put it into words.

Liam is at Vanderbilt today with Steven, and I'm here at home—or at least close to home—doing everything the other four kids need. Everyone is okay. Liam is okay. Today he needs a whole blood transfusion, which means he'll be there even longer. I know he's well cared for. I know he's with his dad, who loves him just as much as I do.

But that's just not how God made a mother's heart.

I want to be there.

I want to be beside Liam, holding his hand through another transfusion. At the exact same time, I want to be here for Ronin, Blakely, Elias, and Miles. I want to show up for Miles during his senior year, help the younger three with everything they need, and somehow still be everything Liam needs too.

People ask me how I'm doing, and the truth is I don't really know.

I get up around 4:00 every morning. I go to bed around 10:00 every night. I pour everything I have into my family every single day, yet somehow it still feels like it's never enough. Not because anyone is making me feel that way—but because I do.

The guilt comes from me.

When I'm at the hospital, my heart is at home with my other four children.

When I'm home, my heart is in a hospital room with Liam.

There isn't a place I can be where I don't feel torn.

I looked up a statistic today that said about 0.38% of mothers will experience a child having cancer. Another statistic says only about 5% of women have five children. I don't know how those numbers fit together, but they reminded me why this journey can feel so incredibly lonely.

It's a strange feeling to be surrounded by people who love you so well, yet still feel alone.

We have an incredible community. We have family. We have friends. We have a church family that has carried us. We have people praying, encouraging us, giving, serving, and loving us in ways I'll never be able to fully express.

I'm deeply grateful for every single one of them.

But there's also a loneliness that comes with walking a road very few people have ever walked. People can sympathize, and I'm thankful they do. But very few can truly empathize because they simply haven't lived it.

I also know people have opinions. That's human nature. Some think I should always be at the hospital. Others think I need to be home more. Some probably wonder how we make the decisions we do.

The truth is...there isn't a right answer.

There isn't a simple solution.

Every decision costs something.

If I'm with Liam, part of me feels like I'm missing what my other children need.

If I'm home, part of me aches because I want to be with him.

No matter where I am, a piece of my heart is somewhere else.

So if you've ever wondered why this journey is exhausting, that's why. It's not just the appointments, the treatments, the driving, the medications, or the schedules. It's the constant pull between five children who all deserve their mom, while knowing I can only physically be in one place at a time.

We're simply doing the best we can with an impossible situation.

I'm trusting the Lord to fill in all the gaps where I can't be.

And on days like today, when my heart feels especially heavy, I'm reminding myself that God never asked me to be everywhere. He only asked me to be faithful where He has me in this moment.

If you think of us today, please pray for Liam as he receives his blood transfusion. Pray for Steven as he stays by his side. Pray for our other four kids as they continue navigating this season. And if you think of me, pray that when my heart feels divided, the Lord will continue to give me the strength, wisdom, and peace to keep taking the next step.

Some days are just harder than others.

Today is one of those days.