My Superhero

I wrote this on October 2nd, 2025 — the same day I wrote about moving day. Life in our old place had become nearly impossible. The stairs, the daily struggles, the weight of ALS and pregnancy pressing on us in ways we never could have imagined. Our family and friends refused to let us face it alone, and thanks to them, we finally made it into our new home. I finally slept in a bed again. But this post isn’t about the move. It’s about Grace. She gave me permission to share her words, and I want the world to see what she was carrying while she was taking care of me. Six months later, with Lizzy here and our life rearranged completely, I still go back to what Grace said to our friends during those weeks. I still don’t have better words for it. So I’ll let her say it again.

Originally written on October 2, 2025

Grace is truly magnificent. She’s beautiful. She’s loving. She’s kind. She’s tough. She doesn’t take any shit. She’s going through more than what most people are capable of going through and yet she shows up for me every single day. She’s my hero.

Grace said it better than I ever could. So with her permission — here it is, exactly as she wrote it, exactly as she felt it.

Grace: “Being completely honest—I’ve been having breakdowns. Fear, irritation, exhaustion… and did I mention FEAR? Trying to get everything done at 33 weeks pregnant has been overwhelming. This isn’t the move we wanted, and it’s definitely not the kind of sickness we ever imagined dealing with—especially during pregnancy. Watching everything we’ve built get packed away (mostly his stuff 😝) feels so heavy. And watching him suffer… it hurts every single second. I can’t fix it, and that pain runs deeper than words.

Swept out am so thankful for our village. You keep showing up, loving us, and putting up with me. I know I’m not always easy to deal with (add pregnancy + ALS to that mix and… oh boy!). Thank you for still being here. Please, keep showing up. Keep texting. KEEP PRAYING. We need it more than ever.

Right now, we’re trying to get Cecil’s wheels delivered. The Les Turner team is helping us interview staff to shorten the list, which is honestly the biggest help we could use right now. Next on the list: a car that can actually fit his electric wheelchair. Somewhere in the middle of all this, we’re hoping to get the baby’s room ready too.

One bit of good news: the hospital called and is making an exception—they’re allowing Cecil and me to tour the maternity ward so we can plan for his comfort during delivery. That gives me a little peace of mind.”

Like I said.

She’s a superhero.

My superhero.