Two weeks and one day….

Hannah, 9 months old

Two weeks and one day until Hannah should be turning 4.

Two weeks and one day until one of the biggest projects of my life.

Two weeks and one day … yet the anxiety has been building up for weeks.   All my anxiety is focused on this day lately it seems.

I feel like I’m on this constant roller coaster between grief, stress, and anxiety.

How am I going to handle that day?  My baby girl’s birthday.  Is it still considered a birthday?  She will forever be three years old in my heart.  Three.   Can’t really say it is her 4th birthday – or can I?   She should BE here … WITH ME!

The anxiety about this event.  It has turned from this little event where we hope someone will notice to this huge community event with support from so many people we couldn’t even conceive of just a few months ago.  Radio stations, local TV media, popular kids entertainment companies, celebrities, local companies and people with huge hearts.

And the thing is, thanks to my amazing team and board of directors for our foundation, it is actually coming together!  There is no way I could have done this by myself.

So then the anxiety about the event begins — will everything work as planned that night?  Probably not, but hopefully it will be little.   Will people show up?  We have so many people spreading the word about the event ~ but people need to come join us that night for it to be a success.   Then the stupid things I stress about like not having enough cold water for our volunteers…I know, not a big deal, but yes, that is a stress too.

Then the thing that makes me the most anxious … how will I handle that night?  All those people coming to celebrate Hannah, to learn her story, to talk about her and the foundation, saying her name … on her birthday … the day I gave birth to her just four years earlier.  Part of me wants to run and hide from it all, but then the other part knows that I need to be there for Hannah, to celebrate Hannah, to show my pride that *I* was Hannah’s mom.

Yes, for way too short of a time, I got to be with my daughter, Hannah.  Physically, emotionally… ugh…

Fifteen days from today.  It is going to be a very, very emotional day for me.  I already know this, and I’m trying to accept it.  I just wish I knew what emotions were going to come out.  Will I be strong enough to make it through the entire event with a smile?  Will I be able to do my “thank you for coming” little speech?  Will I get overwhelmed with it all and want to hide?  Will I make it through the event just fine and then crash into a heaping pile of mess the next day?

I’m VERY excited about our event.  Not for me, but what it will mean to getting our foundation off the ground and actually start being able to help local families.   This is our shot — our chance to raise enough money and awareness to make a REAL difference in our community.   I need to be ready to tackle it all that night – whatever comes my way.

I’m ready to share the the world how special children like Hannah deserve to be fought for, to be comforted, to be recognized and given every shot for a positive quality of life, no matter their prognosis.

Two weeks and one day …



  1. Marsha Biller says:

    Carrie—I know you will do well. And so what if you do break down a little? You are allowed you know. You will be representing the emotions of EVERY MOM that has raised or lost a child to a terrible terminal disease. I , for one, applaud you. I wish so much that I could be there. It is just way too far for me to travel. I have supported you, your family and Hannah ever since I met you online. I have TONS of pictures of Hannah that I downloaded and prayed to, hoping that there would be a cure for this precious little girl. I wish you much luck with your foundation and whenever I can, I will try to support you with money, or just to get the word out. I hung the card (that came with my foundation shirt) on the bulletin board in my chiropractors waiting room. Even if just one person sees it and knows someone with a child who could use your help–it would make me smile. You are the most beautiful person I have ever met. You have a heart of gold and the strength of a million humans. Much love and light to you Carrie

  2. Carrie….although I had hoped to be there from Massachusetts to cheer you on, I am bummed to say that I will be cheering from here on the Little Miss Hannah Foundation’s big day. You got this, I know you do. I see how far you’ve come, from Hannah’s birth and through igt all….YOU GOT THIS. This is your calling and you are doing an amazing job despite your grief and anxiety. It amazing how far you have brought the foundation in such a short time. Cry if you need to, have someone read the speech for you….you’ve done the hard work already.