Meghan Speaks Out!

Maybe tonight I would have to call Meghan the “Guest Blogger.”

What you read below is her speech.  She was asked to prepare something to read for her school for “Rare Disease Day” on Thursday.  She is an excellent public speaker, and fights only a few “butterflies” before she speaks.  She always makes me so proud.  I wish I could be there!

Rare_Disease_Day_Logo_2011-1024x968 2

The text of the speech was written by her.  I typed it, and then she went back in and changed it again.  I added the pictures… just for here – because I like to!

She will review the speech with her principal tomorrow, but I don’t expect many changes.

When did my baby grow up?

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Some of you, who know me, know me as Meghan Ortega.  Or, maybe you know me as Meghan from 4th grade, or Meghan from Mrs. Worsdale’s and Mrs. LaMonaca’s class.

books

You might, if you know me a little better, know me as Meghan who loves to read, and swim. You might know me as Meghan who loves dogs.

competition_pools

Maybe you know that I have 2 dogs that I love, and a mom who is a teacher and a dad who is an electrician.

 

Lucky, Meghan and Allie - My three girls
Lucky, Meghan and Allie – My three girls

But, until today, very few of you knew that I am Meghan Ortega and I suffer with a Rare Disease called Cowden’s Syndrome.

lori and meghan

Until September of 2011 I didn’t know I had this Rare Disease.  What I did know was that something was wrong and my body was far from that of a “normal” kid.

For as long as I can remember, every week of my life has included AT LEAST one doctor’s appointment, and lots of times even more.

tired-of-waiting

You’ve all been to the doctor and you know it’s not fun.  It involves waiting and waiting…and even more waiting.  It also involves poking and prodding. For me, it often means being sent to more and more and more doctors…

 

My mom says when I was a baby I wasn’t really comfortable, and I cried all the time.  I almost never slept, and wouldn’t drink my bottle.

When we talk about it now, we think my body knew I couldn’t handle dairy products, and dairy is in milk.

Mom also tells me that I started seeing lots of doctors when I was just a few weeks old.  Soon there were doctors to check almost every part of my body.

I have had 9 surgeries.  I remember having my gall bladder out before I turned 4.  I also had a lipoma (a soft tissue tumor that people with Cowden’s Syndrome get.)

I had knee surgery 4 times for an AVM in my right knee.  An AVM is a vascular malformation.  It is also common in Cowden’s Syndrome.  It feels very strange because it pulses like your heart beat. Every time I had that surgery the doctor thought I wouldn’t need another one.  But they have already done 4, and they are not sure if the AVM will ever go away, so I will probably need more.

Rare_Disease_Day_Logo_Hope_

Because I am in pain so much, I get physical therapy in and out of school.  My outside physical therapist, Dr. Jill told Mom that she should take me to see a geneticist. I didn’t really understand what that was, but we went because that is just what I do.

Dr.Pappas at NYU was really nice.  He examined me and he talked to me and mom.  When he was done he drew some blood.  He said he was pretty sure of what I had, but we had to wait for the test results.

NYU

In September of 2011, just as I was starting 3rd grade, we went back to his office and he told us that I have Cowden’s Syndrome.  It means that my PTEN gene is broken.  Your body is made up of all sorts of genes, but these are G-E-N-E-S, not J-E-A-N-S like the ones you wear.  PTEN is the gene that keeps your body from growing tumors.  Because mine is broken I get more growths, like the AVM, the lipoma, and the nodules on my thyroid that I have to have checked every 6 months.

As soon as I was diagnosed, the doctor talked to my mom and said she probably had Cowden’s too.  He took her blood and a few weeks later she tested positive.

making strides 1

Because of the Cowden’s my mom had lots of tests done, and it explained a lot of things about the 17 surgeries she has had.  On March 5th it will be a year since she had surgery for breast cancer.  She is just fine.  She says that knowing she had Cowden’s helped her find it early.  She says to everyone that my diagnosis saved her life.

School

When I am here at school I smile a lot.  I don’t like to dwell on anything bad.  We spend enough time with doctors so I try to enjoy my time with kids.

You would probably never know by looking at me, that I am in pain a lot.  I take medicine every day that helps my joints hurt less than they used to, but still most days I have pain.  It is hard for me to climb up the stairs, and play at recess, but I do it.

 

We first heard about “World Rare Disease Day” last year, but at the time we were a little too stunned to do anything about it.

Exhausted

This year I told my mom I wanted to do something to make people more aware of Cowden’s Syndrome and all rare diseases.  I was not ready yet to do a fund raiser – I just wanted to get the word out that Rare Diseases like ours exist.  There are over 7,000 of them!

I shared my idea with Mrs. Manfredi and she said I could give out the ribbons and information you received today.  I was really excited.

“Hope it’s in our genes” is the motto of the Global Genes Project.  They try to raise awareness and find cures for all rare diseases.

denim ribbons

Today I think it’s important for you to know you can’t ever really judge someone by how they look on the outside.  You never know what’s going on inside of them.

 

Be kind.

Be aware.

Rare Diseases are everywhere.

Thank you

** By Meghan – Age 9!

 

This one’s for you Mom – HAPPY SWEET 16!

celebrateThis one’s for you Mom.

My Mom doesn’t have Cowden’s Syndrome.  The tests confirmed that.

What she does have is strength, stamina, and courage unrivaled by most.  She is a tough cookie.  An inspiration with her determination.  Not once throughout her life have I ever known her to give up.

Mom is a survivor.

Long before she was a breast cancer survivor, she was a survivor of life.

She survived a divorce, two jobs, and raising 2 kids alone – with the help of my grandparents.

She survived sleepless nights, and worry.

She battled for her kids- fought doctors, insurance companies and the like. And, she even battled  with us on occasion… If you can imagine that!

Long before she was a breast cancer survivor, she was my Mom.  And she taught some valuable lessons I still use today.

(My sister posted the other day that “Some days I open my mouth and my mother comes out!”)

These are her words coming out of me these days….

I-plan-God-laughs

god-is-good-logo

But God is good - all the time!
But God is good – all the time!

thankfulAnd….

I really think I am OK with this concept, but we all need a reminder sometimes!
I really think I am OK with this concept, but we all need a reminder sometimes!

When my Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer I was 23.  I was scared.  She might have been scared, but she attacked it with her “matter of fact” attitude that I think is what has gotten her so far.

She went for her first mastectomy on February 24th of 1997.  She was just 48.  The second mastectomy followed in April when cancer was found in the other breast.  6 months of chemo followed.  5 years of Tamoxifen followed that.

And she just kept right on going.  Even though some days she felt like this…

several days at once

Truth be told, maybe we all did.  But I did what I could to help out with her, around the house, and with my little sister.  I was really just amazed by her drive.  But I think I still am.

Last year when I was scheduled for my mastectomy, the surgeon asked me who had been with my mother during hers.  I told her my dad and I had.  She said, “Well call mom and tell her its time to return the favor.”

I called her on the ride home and although I can’t imagine it was an easy call to take.  She never flinched.  She took the week off that I had the surgery (a HUGE compliment from someone who sparsely misses a day of work.)  My recovery went so smoothly.  And I had some of the best conversations of my life with Mom that week.

When my pathology returned DCIS, she was the first one I called.  Neither of us were surprised.  And, yet her reassuring words, that she knew I had “done the right thing,” gave me such peace.

Before Mom was diagnosed she dreaded turning 50.  After all she had been through she embraced 50 with grace and charm, and a few years ago gave 60 a great big hug.

Mom's 64th birthday - and 4 generations of tough ladies!
Mom’s 64th birthday – and 4 generations of tough ladies!

This is a picture from her 64th birthday a few weeks ago.

My mom may not be like everyone else’s.  She can be a tough lady.  She hasn’t had an easy life.  But she has a heart of gold.  And I love her for who she is.

As I grow I realize everyone does the best they can with what they have where they are.

I am thankful – so thankful – for these last 16 years with my Mom.  I am grateful she got to know my daughter.  I look forward to having her around for a long time.

A mother bonds with all her children, and she is close with my sisters – differently than how we are close.  That’s what makes each relationship special.

We share some things that can’t be put into words…

Just past the finish line.  Aren't we "Pretty in Pink?"   :-)
Just past the finish line. Aren’t we “Pretty in Pink?” 🙂

She will always be my friend.  I hope she knows just how much she is loved.

Happy Start to your 16th year - CANCER FREE!
Happy Start to your 16th year – CANCER FREE!

This is the story… RARE DISEASE DAY!

http://www.silive.com/northshore/index.ssf/2013/02/staten_island_9-year-old_and_h.html

 

Hopefully this link takes you to the full article.

Thanks everyone… and I mean all of you.

Lots of people were mentioned in here.  In reality our support network is much larger and includes people we will never meet.

Love you all!

Lori

Newsworthy

Rare_Disease_Day_Logo_Hope_In a nutshell that’s what it comes down to.  Having HOPE.  All the time.  Even when it seems too hard.

My daughter Meghan gives me HOPE, and when she wanted to get prepared for “Rare Disease Day” on February 28th by creating lots and lots of denim ribbons… well, it was impossible to resist.

It started out for her school.  Then it morphed into my school too.  Plus about 500 more.

“To raise awareness Mommy.”

Meghan has had an affinity for the Global Genes Project since soon after our diagnosis.

Rare_Disease_Day_Logo_2011-1024x968 2As a matter of fact that is the very denim ribbon image she had our friend use when he crafted her “one of a kind” necklace.  (Well, now that Mom has one I guess there are two…)  That very same necklace she hopes will transform the world’s image of rare diseases and give them a uniting symbol.

A denim cause ribbon, crafted after the Global Genes Project's slogan, "Hope it's in our Genes!"
A denim cause ribbon, crafted after the Global Genes Project’s slogan, “Hope it’s in our Genes!”

I called our local paper.  The reporter met with us for 2 hours Friday of last week.  The article printed today.

The link isn’t up yet – not the full one.  Just the link for the photo.

So, for now… this is all I have.

We were on the front page of the "North Shore" section.
We were on the front page of the “North Shore” section.

And here is the article.It will probably read a lot better on an iphone… or with a magnifying glass. 🙂

article 3

I will be sure to post the real link when I have it.

But it is here and we are excited.  Raising awareness in our hometown.

My girl already wants to add a few schools for next year… Can’t stop this kid, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Priceless!

Waking up before the rest of my family on a vacation day – 2 cups of caffeine.

Filling the car with gas- $50.

Traveling through the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel $13 roundtrip.

Parking for 4 hours – $25.

Two doctor Copays $20 each.

Trip across the Verazanno Bridge… about $6 with my EZpass.

But, the news from the dermatologist that I can stretch the visits a whole year, combined with the news from the breast surgeon that “everything looks great and I will see you in 6 months!”

ABSOLUTELY PRICELESS!

priceless

So we cross small hurdles gleefully.

We had 7 appointments carefully scheduled for this week to avoid time off from work/school.  Three doctors apparently realized last week they have kids at home and cancelled.  So this concise week of appointments will stretch a bit, but I have begun scheduling the 11 doctors and 4 scans I can remember that are due in June/July.

I will do everything in my power to consolidate them.

Cowden’s Syndrome WILL NOT run our lives.

We are actively preparing for RARE DISEASE DAY…. (FEBRUARY 28th – Get your denim ready!)

denim ribbonsUntil Friday when we see the vascular surgeon about that pesky AVM…

 

Riding a bicycle

life is like a bicycleI was looking for something to describe my mood today, and there it was.  Simply stated by a brilliant man, and there on the “Perpetual Optimism” Facebook page.

We keep going because we have to.

We keep going because if we DON’T, then we will fall.

We keep going because it is the only way to keep our balance.

I am tired.  Tired of running, and sorting, and organizing and doing – all the time.  Tired of working full time, being a full time Mom, and being a full time researcher, full time medical billing secretary, and a full time organizer… of all things.

I am not perfect at any of those jobs, and that frustrates me more.  I want to do them all perfectly, but there is precious little time to pause for fear I might lose my balance.

I am grateful.  For my husband and my daughter.  I was never very good at riding a bike.  Now that I do it full- time, they are my training wheels – always ready to hold me up… just in case.

Listening while distracted

You know the rules and the laws on driving while distracted.  Hands free cell phone devices, watch the road.. etc. etc.

distracted_driving

But, what about listening while distracted?

The sermon in church focused on this last week, and honestly, 8 days later it is still on my mind.  A personal challenge to me is to stop listening while distracted.

This is not an easy task.   There are precious few people brave enough to venture inside my mind.  It is quite a mess.  Once you sort through all the noise, its hard to find focus.

The list of thoughts on any given day could include, but are not limited to…

What appointment to we have today?  How many?  What will the wait time be?  When is the next one?

Will we get bad news, or just a 6 month return ticket?

How is Meghan feeling, what is her pain like?

Why does she hurt so badly, and how come no one can figure it out?

Will she feel well enough to participate in her after school activity?

How do we balance school with life?  How do we get all the homework and projects done amidst her chronic health issues?

What about her IEP?

Do we keep the para next year?  Do I need an advocate to help me?  Have any of these people got any CLUE about Cowden’s?

What about the bills?  I know we CAN pay them, but there are quite a few.  How many phone calls do I need to make to be sure that they are all done right?  When will I make the phone calls?

How much will the heat cost this cycle?

Will we need a new roof this year?Can't stop thinking cartoon

Did I update the EZPass account fo the new car after the accident?

What groceries do we need and WHEN do I have to go?

How are Grandma and Pop?  Really?

Will the article for Rare Disease Day represent us?  What about the ribbons?  Will they be distributed properly?  Will the kids – and adults benefit from it?  What if Meghan has to speak at her school?  Will she know what to say?

Why is there so much homeowork all the time?

How am I going to finish this math series with her while studying for Social Studies?

Does any of that TRULY matter for 6th grade, or will they just realize I have a pretty smart kid?

When is the FUN supposed to start?

…. AND I COULD GO ON AND ON AND ON AND ON…

cartoon-kids-music

So, with that many thoughts running through my head (and sometimes more,) how can I ever be an active listener to ANYONE?

Meghan and I are best buddies.  She is a great kid.  But we do butt heads sometimes. 

I have to wonder if its because inside that 75 pound 4 foot 10 body, she also is listening while distracted.

Tonight we will stop. 

We will focus.

We will look at each other.

We will listen carefully.

Maybe we will actually hear each other if we eliminate some distractions.

Her father is very good at clearing his mind – eliminating distractions.  Meghan and I – not so much. 

But how can I hear what anyone is saying if I don’t LISTEN?

I see it all the time in this technology age.  Parents on cell phones, ignoring their kids.  Kids pleading for attention, and to be heard.

I am no better if I let the distractions of my mind get in the way of my conversations with my family.

When I ask God to listen, He does.  When I listen carefully, He speaks.  This I know.

Life is way too short to miss out on what is right in front of me.

I am working on clearing my head and avoiding “Listening while distracted.”

Anxiety- an after effect, or a symptom?

An interesting “conversation” in one of my online groups this week, regarding increased levels of anxiety and depression conected to PTEN mutations.

This is really how I view the race against Cowden's Syndrome
This is really how I view the race against Cowden’s Syndrome

One of those conversations that make you wonder if it is better to be validated or to fight the idea that this perpetual anxious feeling is actually hardwired into your genes.

I looked up the articles too.  I love to read for myself.  The experiments are done on mice.  I suppose there aren’t enough of us to get a controlled group for a good study, (although there is a drug called rapamycin being studied on humans – but that’s for a different day.)  But, among other symptoms the mice in their mazes did show marked increase in anxiety.  Although.  I have to imagine if I was a mouse in a maze I might get nervous too…

???????????????

Now I have a lot of throughts on this.

I have always been a worrier – highly anxious about most things.  Anyone who knows me knows that to be true.

But, conversely – throughout large portions of my life there has definitely been something to worry about.

CartoonV9991 ChickenOrEgg copy

So, as the chicken/egg thing goes -do I worry because anxiety is a part of Cowden’s syndrome, and even before my diagnosis I have had Cowden’s?  Or do I have acute bouts of anxiety because having Cowden’s gives me so much to be anxious about?

The best answer probably is – both.

I am a rational person by all rights.  Even in the middle of my worst anxiety I can stop and think and KNOW that my fears are irrational.  I can have the absolute belief that God will continue to care for the situation, and for my loved ones, yet still it is often like a crushing weight on my chest, making it hard t0 think, breathe or move.

worry

What I have on my side is that I was raised to keep on keeping on.  Thanks Mom, and Grandma and Pop especially… when the going got tough, we were taught to keep going.  So while I comfort myself with verses about tomorrow having enough worries of its own, and while I am faced with horrendous tragedies of things that cannot be controlled, I am able to press on.

So I can function, and the anxiety does not cripple me.  And, I know the “nature vs. nurture” reasons to explan it. 

But I do know that my daughter suffers too.  Not just with a PTEN mutation, and Cowden’s Syndrome, but also with anxiety.  She is a worrier, “just like her mother” they say.  Yep.  Maybe she is like me because of genetics, or my example.  I can’t really know for sure.

So what to do?

For me, the first step is just acceptance. 

I am a worrier. 

Regardless of the cause, and allthe logical justifications I can give myself – I will remain a worrier.

Then, find an outlet.  I am still working on this one.  I am thinking I like to write – so maybe that will help some.  I would like to get a few minutes to myself now and again.  I used to love to walk.  Maybe one day there will be time for some nice long walks.

I meditate a bit on the bright side.  Be grateful for the “good” that comes with a chronic illness like Cowden’s Syndrome.  I am not referring to the pain, and the surgeries, and the cancers looming, but rather to the “warning” system built in.  Parents would do anything to protect thier children.  How blessed am I that even among the strain of ceaseless appointments and hours waiting at offices and for results, we have a warning system.  I am confident that if we are vigilant, the Cowden’s won’t “get us.”

warning

Stay organized.  Don’t let the bills, the list of phone calls, the shredding, or the sorting to pile up.  It will just keep coming.

Stay ahead of the school projects.  You never can tell where tomorrow is going to land us.

Laugh.  Often.  It is deeply good not only for the anxiety, but also for the soul.

lsughing dog

Recognize you have lots to smile about.

Acknowledge the pain of others and “Pay it Forward” when you can.  I find that  NOT dwelling on our lives here, helps make me less anxious.

Did the Cowden’s cause the anxiety?  Is it hard wired into who I am as a person?  Is Meghan destined to be forever wondering and worrying?  Or, did a life of doctor’s appointments, pain, chronic disease, and general worry, create the anxiety? 

It really doen’t matter because it is here.  It is part of me, and to la large extent – us.  I doubt it is going anywhere.  I think its just my job to control the beast the best way I can, one day at a time.

Crying is OKAY here

crying is ok

I cried today.  Yep.  That was it.  Couldn’t hold it in one second longer so I pulled the car into a lot.  Thankfully I was alone.  And I rolled up all the windows, locked the doors – and sobbed.

It only lasted about 10 minutes, but I caught a wicked headache, and a bit of stress release from that good old-fashioned hissy fit. 

I generally make a habit of not allowing them.  I am a look at the bright side of life kind of girl.  I like to remind myself about others who have it worse, and try to put myself in other people’s shoes.  It usually works.

Today the emotion got the better of me. And its OK.

tear

Work was stressful.

Supporting my dear husband while he works his tail off three nights a week at school is well worth it, but stressful for all of us.

Homework.  Constant.  Ever changing.  Tests that need to be studied for.  Worry about things not yet complete.  Yep, its only 4th grade.  The teachers are lovely.  The stress is really almost unreal.

Today we went to the Urgi center for X-rays of a foot and ankle that has been bothering Meghan since dance class Monday.  She limped for 2 days before I thought – negligent mother should have a doctor take a look.  Sprained.  Takes time.  (Besides the 2 hours out of the afternoon.)

In addition to Cowden’s Syndrome, Meghan has a few other neat things.  One of her diagnoses is “Benign Hypermobile Joint Syndrome.”  Great – if you can manage your flexibility.  If you can’t it leads to all sorts of random injuries.  We keep a really good PT around… just because.

But, if I am really really honest – I don’t think any of these things pushed me over into that screaming sobbing cry I so desperately needed.  I think it was sadness.  Sadness, mixed with raw fear.

Last night I sat with a friend and her 7th grade son at the wake for the little boy who died last week.  I couldn’t for a minute imagine that any more sadness could fit in that one room.  I had a lot of time to think while we sat.  Maybe too much.

I looked first at his family.  Mom and Dad poised, and carefully greeting each on the never-ending line.  Big Brother and Little Sister, beautiful, supportive, composed.  I told you.  They could have been any of us.  And I am sure they never in their worst nightmare imagined they would be standing there.

And I looked at the police officers, standing in honor.  Each one with red eyes as they tried so hard to remain stoic.  Undoubtedly they had kids of their own, or they knew the young man well – or both.

Children.  Everywhere.  Out of order for a wake.  Except this time it was theirs.  It was their friend.  The kid they sat in class with.  Young preteens – so many of them former students.  Faces raw with emotion.  A night they will never forget.

dogwoods

Tomorrow my friend and I, we will go to the funeral mass.  We will represent our school.  We will try to keep ourselves composed.  But, her thoughts will wander to her boys, and mine to my little girl.  I will think of the “close calls” we have endured, and the many the Cowden’s Syndrome has on the horizon for us.  I shudder at the horror… at the potential.

And yet, if I let it consume me, what life will that be for my girl;  my beautiful, generous, compassionate young lady? 
If I let the tragedy overwhelm me with the reality that at any moment, any of us could be this family, I will lose track of what I have.

If I lose track, if I stop cherishing the blessings I have, I do not give any honor to the memory of this little  boy. 

Instead, I hug tighter.  Try to strengthen the duration of my patience.  Smell the flowers.  Say I love you. Believe in angels.  Remember what really matters.

I can not comfort this family.  My words are useless.  They have to find their way. 

But, I am quite sure now why I cried, and why I had to cry, and why I continue to cry.  I can weep and mourn, with them and for them.

I can hug my little girl, and then hug her again.  I can make memories that matter.

Maybe if we all take some time to show some extra love.  Maybe then we can find a way to keep his memory alive forever.

neverending road

God, hold them in the palm of Your hand – tomorrow, and forevermore.  Amen.

There are just no words

Tonight it’s not about us.

No matter how hard I try.  No matter how much I trust.  No matter how much I pray.  There will be some things I will never understand.  Ever.

Today a generally healthy 11-year-old boy, a 6th grader from the neighborhood died.  A few days ago he stopped breathing, and today he is gone.

The details leading to the tragedy just don’t even matter, as much as the fact that it happened at all.

When I began teaching, his mom taught with us.  It wasn’t long before she would take childcare leave to build her family of three.  We were not close friends, but colleagues still the same, and close enough that I am absolutely sickened by the loss she and her family are enduring.

Years later the children would come, first through my school, then another local elementary school.  The two boys are in Junior High.  The 8th grader, the oldest, is just two years ahead of the little brother who passed.  Their sister is a 3rd grader.

The family is just like any of ours.  The mom was a teacher, dad a police officer.  They were the “regular” family.

This is the stuff nightmares are made from.

Even though we live in a “big city,” our borough is a small town.  There is so much interconnection in this area it seems everyone knows someone.

I was not “friends” with the family.  We chatted when we saw each other, but our kids didn’t play together.  We weren’t “close.”  Yet still I am heartsick.

I know families who have lost children.  I know mothers who continue to function after burying their babies, and fathers who get up and one day go back to work.  I am in awe of their strength.  I can not imagine the depths to which the loss of a child changes you.

And we seem to hear of it all the time.  There are tragedies, school shootings, traffic accidents, and the like.  There is cancer and its far-reaching effects.  There are countless rare diseases that I learn more about each day, that rob parents of their children way too soon.

Chronic illness is not fun.  It can be downright difficult to bear at times.  But tonight again I will thank God for Cowden’s Syndrome, because despite the headaches and trauma it can cause us, it is a blessing.  We have a warning system.  We have constant screenings that will likely protect us from the ominous cancers looking to attack.  We are blessed.

I do not by any means think that any type of loss is easy to bear.

The loss of my cousin shaped my existence as a person, but even I never fully recovered.  I still pray for her parents and her sister.

I was in the 6th grade when a friend from my church was hit by a car and killed on the school bus stop.  No criminal charges.  Just regular kids playing.  And then they weren’t.  I remember the whole experience vividly 30 years later.

A few weeks ago I stood by the side of a work associate whose 39-year-old daughter had died of cancer.  No words.

One of these parents told me there is a reason there is no word to describe a parent who has lost a child.  The grief can not be contained in words.

I just can not for even a moment imagine the shock and trauma when you put your healthy 11 year old child to bed, and he doesn’t get up.

sometimes the hurt

Tonight my heart is with the family.  The mom and dad, the brother and sister, as well as all the extended family and close friends whose lives are forever altered.

I will pray that God holds them all so tightly, and that He binds them close together, and showers them with His love.

There are just no words.