FIGHTING THE HEART WAR WITH LOVE.

I remember...6 years ago

24 August 2018


I awoke with a heavy heart this morning... 6 years ago we buried you...I remember so much of that day. I remember waking up again in shock thinking I can’t believe this is really happening. I remember my neighbor coming over sitting on the couch with me crying so hard he couldn’t talk. I remember putting on the same black dress I had worn to my grandmothers funeral years before. I remember walking into the cold funeral home with photos of him everywhere - and still feeling like this must all be some big mistake - some awful nightmare. I remember taking Xanax and hoping that would numb me just a little. I remember holding onto his lovey as each person approached me - begging this little plush animal to bring me strength from Hayden. I remember seeing so many people come through that line - people from all over the country that I never expected to see. People who drove long distances just to hug me and say ‘I’m so sorry...’ people who came to pay their respects to our family and to a baby boy whom they never met - but who touched them deeply.

I remember my aunt walking up to me. She’d traveled from Canada - and she too had a baby die 20+ years ago from HLHS. I remember sobbing loudly and finally releasing all the pain inside - she too knew that pain. I remember the whole football team coming through - and I remember feeling bad for them - how awkward that must have been for them and how foreign.

I remember being at the cemetery with our family and close friends. I remember standing there and not being able to move once the service was over. I remember my best friend coming over to me and putting her arm in mine and physically walking me down to my car - Rob’s best friend did the same for him.

I remember being at the wake - or whatever you call that place afterwards - and taking another Xanax. Needing some more numbness. I remember trying to make that part of the day a celebration of life - hanging his clothes on a clothesline, his photos all over, favorite toys, baby book... I remember going in and out of confusion - like a fog - all my favorite people from all walks of life were in one room - and I loved that - but hated so badly why.

I remember the hours and days that followed - wondering how I was going to make it through this. How I was going to go to sleep each night and wake up each day without him. I remember wondering when this pain in my chest would ever lessen. When I would ever live a life full of happiness and joy again. I assumed I never would - and was trying to figure out how to accept that. 

All of these memories flooded back this morning before I even opened my eyes - and I could feel tears streaming down. And then I opened my eyes - and my eyes saw the most perfect sight - my rainbow, my sidekick lying next to me. A few seconds later he opened his eyes and said 'Mommy its just me and you!' And we cuddled for a minute. Soon after he asked me to come with him. He pulled me into our cove where we had just gotten a new couch since moving Greyson into the boys room and he snuggled with me on the couch - telling me he loved me so much, giving me hugs and reminding me how beautiful my life is. Reminding me that I live a life full of joy and happiness and that the acceptance I have in my heart isn't about living without it - but living a life full of it. In that moment I felt tears again - and not just for missing Hayden, but also for deep deep gratitude to God for blessing me with this child - this life I live. Full of love - full of joy - full of memories of a boy we lost, but will never forget. 


Acceptance

16 August 2018



There are said to be five stages of grief – denial, bargaining, anger, depression and acceptance.

Over the past six years I have found myself in and out of the first four stages – often times overlapping a few at once. The first two – denial and bargaining – played a huge role in the first year or so after loosing Hayden; but after time, the shock of not waking up next to him faded. And with that progression, bargaining to get him back also declined.

However, anger and depression have found their way back to the surface intermittently over the past few years. At times I could see them coming from a mile away and almost prepare myself, other days it would come out of nowhere, like an unexpected punch to the gut and when it came it would (and still does) hurt like hell.

Acceptance though, that always seemed to be the stage that I thought I would NEVER reach. How would I ever be able to say that I accept his death? Accept that a doctor made an irreversible error that ultimately took his brain – and life – from us??

It wasn’t until recently while in deep conversation with a fellow bereaved mama that I realized that accepting his death didn’t mean I was saying that what happened to him was OK, or that I was moving on – but rather I have accepted that this is where God wants my life to be right now. And while I do still wish that it weren’t, that he were still here, that I never had to learn what it meant to accept Hayden’s death, I DO accept my life for what it is, and not only do I accept my life – I truly LOVE IT!!

I can say without hesitation that I truly have a beautiful life. It’s not perfect, and it has pain, but whose doesn’t? I have a husband who works so hard for this family – he works to keep us fed, keep us healthy, and keep me home to raise our family. He would do anything in the world to make me happy, and his love for me is larger than life. And yes Hayden died, but I have THREE living boys who make my heart burst – and make my head ache, if I’m being truly honest – but I wouldn’t change it for anything. I get to spend each day with these beautiful gifts – and I realize that’s exactly what they are. Thanks to Hayden and the lessons he taught me while he was here, I fully engulf myself in them – and they make me laugh and love harder (and maybe drink a little more wine) than I ever knew possible. Beyond my sweet little family, I am surrounded with a plethora of stellar people – both from my past and my present. Again, I know that all of them are gifts – and I truly take none of my blessings for granted.

I am approaching my six-year mark since the last time I held him in my arms. I’d be kidding myself if I didn’t acknowledge that it will most likely be just as painful as every other year reliving that awful day – but there is such a feeling of peace that comes with my pain this year. The peace of knowing that although great tragedy has touched my life, so have great blessings.

I feel confident at this point in my journey that I have overcome the stages marked Denial and Bargaining. I know that I will no doubt still have days where I will experience Anger and Depression, especially around his birthday and the sadness of not having him here to celebrate, as well as his day of passing which creates the deepest feelings of anger and depression of all. The reality is my child died. A part of me died. That’s real. But knowing those feelings will pass and knowing acceptance in my heart has not only begun, but is burning stronger every day leaves me with peace – even amidst my pain – and gives me hope that with each passing day the peace and acceptance will become stronger and I will continue to live a life full of gratitude right alongside my grief.


Healing of the Heart - summer 2018

22 July 2018


When Sabrina and I hosted the first ever ‘Healing of the Heart’ retreat in the fall of 2015, I never in one million years would have thought it would do what it has for the now 100 bereaved heart angel mamas that have attended over the past four retreats.


We went into this blindly, desperate to feel a connection with others whose hearts were shattered – but who knew this wasn’t the way the rest of our lives should be. Life would have to go on, and we’d need to find our tribe of people to make it through, and not just survive – but LIVE.

 
Learn all over how to love hard, laugh out loud, and find purpose in our grief.   


I can tell you that other than Hayden’s life, this journey I am on with campaigning for a retreat house of our own has been the biggest roller coaster of my existence. Never have I felt so many ups and downs – two steps forward and five steps back - huge highs, and even bigger lows – and the thought of quitting crosses my mind  SEVERAL times a week. I’ve heard NO more times with this than I have with everything else in my life - combined.


But God. He Keeps whispering YES. He keeps giving me the strength to continue. The strength to put myself out there for what could possibly be another BIG FAT NO – but one that could be THE ONE – the YES we need to make it all come to life.


The 2018 summer Healing of the Heart retreat He sent 25 women to touch my soul – to encourage my heart – to keep me fighting for this crazy outlandish dream of having a house where we can support broken hearts year round – and build them up, helping them on their healing journey.


As I sit in a coffee shop, tears already streaming, I am remembering the days I spent with these BRAVE women who once again poured their hearts out – shared and bared it all – about the most precious parts of their life. Once again the stories they shared ripped at my heart – made me feel my loss and the pain of those first few unbearable years all over again. The shock – the physical pain – the absence in their hearts. It was all so real – and so raw. But they all came from all over the country because they wanted to begin to HEAL. They wanted to find a way to live their best life – again.


Four years in and I STILL cannot find a way to truly explain or describe this retreat. Whenever I come home, my friends and family always lovingly ask – ‘So, how was the retreat?’ And I often pause…hmmm…How do I put it into words. And this year before I got to respond with ‘Oh it was great’, one of my bests spoke first and simply asked… ‘Mission Accomplished?’


Yes. YES !!!! Yes it was. Beyond. We once again provided these beautiful women with a safe sacred space to speak freely – to cry – laugh – dance – scream … and ultimately begin to heal. These women were like magnets – their connections so strong within just 4 days together. Simply because they understand each others’ hearts. A sisterhood was once again formed and so yes, MISSION definitely ACCOMPLISHED!!


I always start and end each of our retreats thanking these courageous women for trusting in us – for taking the leap to attend a retreat where they most likely know no one – but know how badly their heart needs it. Hayden and his legacy has paved the way and the confidence, but these women – these 100 women who are all a part of the ‘club’ that no one wants to belong to, but because these are their cards, are all so thankful to have one another – they are truly the inspiration and driving force behind this house. This fall we will welcome yet another 25 bereaved heart mamas – and we are still just scratching the surface in heart loss, let alone all other losses. I live for the day we have a home of our own where we can provide this space to women, men, siblings, families – of all losses and from all parts of the world – because every bereaved parent ought to have a ‘mission accomplished’ weekend – and every broken heart deserves to learn how to live their best life – again.




meet timothy

13 June 2018


Our 6th annual Pennsylvania Golf Outing is about 6 weeks away - Friday July 27th!
We are honoring heart warrior Timothy Wooldridge and family from Bellevue, Pennsylvania.
Please visit our website to register!
Or email rebecca.perrotto@haydensheart.org to sponsor or support this event!

Meet Timothy....
Timothy Wooldridge was diagnosed prenatally with a severe congenital heart defect called Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. It was an incredibly scary time for our family. I was put on bed rest at 30 weeks because of my risks for pre-term labor and his heart defect made it more important than ever for him to be born full term. At 37 weeks Timmy was born and was immediately transferred to the CICU at Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh. It would be three days before I could be reunited with him and then he had his first open heart surgery, the Norwood procedure, at only four days old.

The first three months of his life were spent between the step down cardiac unit and the CICU and he had a tracheostomy and g-tube and nissen surgery in that time. At three months old Timmy had his second open heart surgery, the Glenn procedure. The hope was that his heart function would improve after this surgery and that he would be able to come home for the first time. This was not the case, however, and he became sicker and sicker. Our family had prepared for the prospect of spending three to four months in the hospital, but after being maxed out on three different heart medications, being put on a fourth IV heart medication, and maxed out on diuretics we knew that a heart transplant was his only way home.

This time in our lives was incredibly difficult. Timothy is the youngest of three and his older siblings had to go through many days and nights without one or both of their parents. For a time there was no end in sight, which is why the day we received the call that a heart was being offered was the most surreal day of my life. Receiving the gift of life was only the start of the next chapter in our family. There were still repairs to our home and supplies we needed to purchase to make it safe for Timmy to come home for the very first time when he was nine months old. Keeping Timmy healthy and out of the hospital as much as we can is a daunting task and requires constant vigilance and keeping supplies that insurance does not cover in stock at home and keeping up with the repairs that come with living in an old house.


how many kids do you have?

11 May 2018



The most common small talk question I am asked as a mother is...
‘How many children do you have?’

Easy enough to answer, right? Not in my world...

This question often haunts the bereaved mother in more ways than one can imagine.

I remember the first time someone asked me that after Hayden died. I was photographing a family for their Christmas card and in walking from one spot to the next, the mother asked me how many kids I have. I stumbled – and in a blip, my thoughts ping-ponged – I instinctively wanted to answer ‘two’ – but figured the next question would be ‘how old are they’ and my mind quickly went to the reaction the mother would give when I told her I had two, and that one of them had died just a few months ago. I knew if I said that, the entire mood of the session would change and I would spend the next 30 minutes telling her it was ok, or watching her fight back tears, or have it go in a completely different direction with her saying inappropriate gestures in attempts to make me feel better - ’Well at least you have other children’, or ‘he’s in a better place’ etc. But either way, I knew the happy easy feeling of the afternoon would take a drastic turn if I were honest. And so I said ‘I have one child’. She then asked how old, and I sheepishly answered ‘he’s 3’.

I finished the session and got in my car and ugly cried the entire way home. The guilt and pain I felt in my heart for not acknowledging Hayden to that woman was awful – and I promised myself and him at that very moment that I would never answer that way again. I would answer with two – and if the conversation led to more, I would take it in stride. That I wouldn’t worry or feel guilty about how it might make the other person feel, that my feelings needed to be a priority right now and I knew for sure that I never wanted to feel this guilt again.

Since that day, I can’t begin to count how many times someone has and still does ask me that question. Especially when I was pregnant with my two rainbows – everyone wanted to know if this was my first. And when answering with my third or fourth, again I knew the next question would lead to telling this complete stranger the taboo that is – my second son died. And then the silence, sometimes tears, and sometimes me comforting them. It’s a strange thing really. It creates an instant pity party – one that I don’t want to have, but one that is necessary – most people feel immediate heartache and pain for my loss and feel the need to express it – which I must say I completely appreciate the empathy, as the alternative is much worse. But, there are times that I just want to wear a sign that says ‘My son died. Yes, it’s unfathomable. Please don’t say anything stupid to try and make me feel better’.

It is quite possibly the most difficult question bereaved mothers are asked – and not because we aren’t sure how many children we have – we are very well aware. It’s because of what unknown questions will follow – and what reaction the person asking will give us. I’ve so often thought about lying – when the follow up question comes of ‘how old are they?’ I’ve thought how nice it would be to live in fantasy with this stranger – to tell them I have a 9 year old, 6 year old, 4 and 2 year old. And just leave it at that. No mention of anyone dying. No sadness. But each time I build myself up to do that, I pull back. So much of me feels like that’s a disservice to him, too.

Fast forward 6 years - this past weekend I was again asked how many children I have. I answered a confident 4 – which often leads to mouths dropping or ‘how do you do it’ responses. I often find it necessary to tell them that I only have 3 living – to insinuate that my life isn’t as chaotic as it must sound when I say 4. But then there it leaves us again with talking about my son that died. And again there is often awkward silence, as most people cannot fathom or imagine what that must be like. But now that I am a veteran at answering this question and handling the array of responses, the difficulty has lessened, and honestly- it gives me a reason to talk about him – to say his name – and to tell a piece of his story – if even the worst part of it.

As Mother’s Day approaches, I gather that I will once again find myself floating between deep sadness and incredible joy all day long. I carried four babies. I birthed four babies. One of them died and that is a cruel reality. But I have FOUR children and that is a blessing worth acknowledging and celebrating every single day. Hayden was only gifted to us for a short time, but he lives on in us and with us every single day. He will always be my son, and I his very proud mother.



meet Rylan

19 April 2018

Meet Rylan...

Our Heart Strong Heart Warrior!


Rylan's journey began on December 2, 2016 when he was born at a perfect 6lbs 13oz. Shortly as he was born the nurse knew that something wasn't right. After a few hours they said that something was wrong with his heart and he was going to be going to Boston Children's Hospital. A few hours after being in Boston they told my husband and I that Rylan had Total Anomalous Venous Return, (TAPRV) aortic stenosis and an ASD which is a whole in the heart between the upper two chambers. At 6 days old Rylan had his first open heart which took 7 hours but it was a complete success! After a long 3.5 week in the hospital Rylan was discharged on Christmas Eve. His big brother said that's all he wanted for Christmas that year!

Rylan had been home for 3 days, but at his first follow up his stats were low and he had fast breathing. Back to Boston we went. After testing we learned that Rylan has been aspirating his food. So, a feeding tube was placed. Everything looked good with his heart, but his lungs needed to heal from the aspiration so the days kept passing by in the hospital. Then, again his stats dropped and his blood pressures were all over the place. After having a heart catheterization we learned that his aorta was very very narrow and he needed another second open heart in the days to follow. With all the narrow he had they wanted to test him for a genetic condition called, Williams Syndrome. His second open heart took place the follow week and took 12 hrs and again, was a complete success! Two weeks later we learned that he did in fact have Williams syndrome. After 2 months in the hospital and a g tube surgery we finally went home on march 3rd!

We were sent home following 13 doctors, OT, PT and a visiting nurse. We had two hernias repaires and three heart cauterizations since being home. He also had been growing like a week now weighing in at 19lbs! He receives in home PT and OT and has been crushing his goals!! He's such a fast crawler that mommy can't keep up! He still can't take liquids by mouth, but we just figured out why he aspirates; he had a level 2 laryngeal cleft. He can eat table food tho and has been loving trying to figure that out! Mac n cheese is his favorite! Smiling took him a long time and now that's all he does! His heart is still giving us a hard time and his body is rejecting the stents that we're placed. Boston is trying something new, which is a medication called sirolimous to see if this will make his body accept the stents. It's a waiting game to see if it's working, but they told us this is then down to last options to help Rylan...

You'd never know by looking at him that his heart is as sick as it is. He's a strong little boy!

Join us FRIDAY JUNE 8TH as we honor this sweet boy and his family!!
CLICK HERE to register to golf OR email ady.dorsett@haydensheart.org to sponsor this event! 

DIAGNOSIS DAY

14 February 2018


Diagnosis day. The day I became a heart mom.

Ask any heart mom and they will tell you that this day is etched into their brains just as vividly as the day their heart warrior was born. Whether it was at their 20 week ultrasound, 36 week growth scan, the day their baby was born, or five days after they were home from the hospital, it doesn't matter at what point in their journey it happened. If there is one thing I know for sure, it is that the day they heard the words ‘there is something wrong with your babies heart’ forever changed the trajectory of the rest of their lives.

My D-Day spreads across two days – starting with November 10, 2011. It was a Thursday and the day before that we had our 20-week ultra sound. We were told they were having a hard time seeing the spine so I was told to come back the next day to get a better look.

My husband had off for Teachers Convention and we were just spending an ordinary day together with our 2 1/2-year-old and some close friends at the American Museum of Natural history before I had to go in for my second appointment. That evening I went back alone for what I thought was a second look at my babies’ spine.

There are colossal moments in every persons lives that are simply engraved internally and every detail remains- even years and years after. For me, that day is November 10th, 2011. Like I mentioned, I went alone – after all, it was supposed to be a quick look at his spine.

After a long wait, I was followed in the room by a man who introduced himself as Dr. Principe. At that moment, I knew that leaving Rob at home was a terrible mistake and that measurements of my baby's spine was not why I was called back. I immediately questioned him about his presence in the room to which he replied with the generic 'doctors always come in for check-ups' and to which I challenged saying that I have never had a doctor in the room with me through all my ultrasounds- this baby, or my first. He didn't respond to that- he just asked me to lie down and they started looking at the picture on the screen of our baby boy. The terms and facial expressions they were using were all so foreign to me and even though I knew something was wrong- I was scared to death to ask. After what felt like forever and with tears now streaming down both sides of my face, I finally worked up the courage to ask what was wrong with my baby.

That evening, a doctors' 30-second diagnosis completely changed our lives.

He told me my baby's left heart was too small. He helped me sit up so I could begin to process. I was obviously upset, but my initial thought was that there was definitely more than enough time left in utero for it to still grow. I could tell based on his facial expressions and comments that he didn’t think that would be the case. And then my thoughts went the complete opposite direction and I asked him if my baby would live. He said that was unknown, but what he did know was that our baby would undergo open heart surgery within days after being born in attempts to save his life. This news made me nearly pass out. I remember grabbing the arm of this man I had just met less than 5 minutes ago and not caring that I didn't know him- I just needed someone to balance me, and he was the only one there. In hysterics, I tried to make sense of it- tried to compose myself and be strong. I tried to ask all the questions I could think of and tried to figure out what was happening to us. But nothing I asked and nothing they said could have prepared me for what the next few months would have in store for us.

I walked out of that hospital in a total fog. I called Rob, my parents, my sister and best friend. I didn’t know what to say to anyone, really- but I also didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts. By the time I got home, Rob had already worked his way through to the end of the Internet and the only thing he could find about a small left heart was, of course, Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. I remember thinking and saying well that’s the worst possible case so it won’t be that. Can’t be that. I had no idea at that moment how much that term would ultimately affect my life. A condition I had never heard of before would come to take over every part of my previously innocent world.

The next day at 8am Rob and I walked into a pediatric cardiologists office waiting to have an echo on our unborn baby. After a torturous hour-long ultrasound where no one spoke, we were then led into a room where a doctor met us and told us our baby had a very severe case of Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. One of the worst he had ever seen. I remember sitting there having given Rob the paper and pen to take notes on what the doctor was saying. He was explaining everything so fast- it felt so foggy. I remember looking over at Rob to make sure he was getting it all down and he just sat there with the pen in his hand and a blank look on his face. I grabbed the paper and pen and started writing as much as I could.

Tears were streaming down my face as I wrote our options:

1. Terminate.

2. Place the baby on a heart transplant list.

3. Comfort care.

4. A three - stage surgical process to repair the heart.

Even as I type this now- almost 6.5 years later – I remember exactly how I felt at that moment. What do half of these options even mean?? Which of these options is the one where the heart defect goes away? Which is the one that says this is all just a HUGE mistake? I kept waiting for that moment. Like he would say oops! Wrong baby! Your baby – of course- has a perfect heart! Now go on and live the rest of your life in naïve bliss!

He aggressively brought me back to reality by drawing a picture of Hayden's heart and compared it to a 'normal' heart. He said the odds were against us and kept repeating option #1- 'terminate'- as if that were our best option. I knew for me it was never an option- I had been carrying this baby for 21 weeks and already loved him with all of my heart. But why were they not giving us any hope? And why, if this is so fatal, have I never heard of it before? My mind was in a foggy spin. What was happening??

We were there for a total of 3 hours and when we left, I still felt clueless. Soon after, my OB called to tell me that we needed to decide in a few hours if we were going to terminate because if so, it had to be done on Monday based on his availability and the NJ laws.

Talk about the hardest conversation. I thought Rob and I made a pretty good team with parenting Jackson before this. But if there is a defining moment that ‘team Dorsett’ truly was born, it was at that moment. When you have to sit across the table from the man you promised to spend the rest of your life with- for better or worse- and then have to talk about the ultimate outcome of your unborn baby – well, there’s nothing more significant than that.

The entire time we were talking, I just kept thinking that just the afternoon before we were perfectly happy and normal- roaring at dinosaur bones, laughing, playing- excited about our pregnancy. Less than 24 hours later we were no longer normal. We were no longer laughing and we were no longer happy. Our world would never be the same as that day. Rob and I still look at pictures from that carefree day and tear up at the thought of how 'easy' and uncomplicated our lives were then. How blissfully innocent and beautifully naïve we were.

Ultimately if you know Hayden’s story, you know we chose option #4- the three stage heart reconstruction. Our next decision was Children’s Hospital Of Philadelphia, where we chose Dr. Spray to be the man to fix our babes heart. And, you also know if you’ve followed Hayden, that the decision that deemed Rob and I as a team on November 11th was just the first of many difficult decisions in parenting our HLHS’er- but that the definitive decision through our partnership was made just over 9 months later when we ‘chose’ with again no option worth choosing, to pull the plug on our babies life and kiss his beautifully perfect face just one last time.

November 11- Diagnosis Day - the first day in Hayden's journey that is burned in my memory and in my heart forever. The day Rob and I learned what it really meant to be a team in the world of parenting. The day we chose to fight with all we had for the best care we could find – and give him all the love we had. All the love. Every day.

Diagnosis Day – the day I became a Heart Mom.



hayden's heart + Fin First = hayden's dream

01 February 2018

IT'S HEART AWARENESS MONTH!!

For the next 28 days people all over the world will join us in celebrating HEART AWARENESS MONTH!!
This month of awareness is so incredibly important to the 'heart community' for numerous reasons. 
At Hayden's Heart, we are passionate about spreading awareness specifically for the Congenital Heart Defect community. 

Here are some deafening facts:

  • Congenital heart defects are America’s and every country’s #1 birth defect. Nearly one of every 100 babies is born with a CHD.
  • Congenital heart defects are the #1 cause of birth defect related deaths.
  • Congenital heart defects are the leading cause of all infant deaths in the United States.
  • Each year approximately 40,000 babies are born in the United States with a congenital heart defect. Thousands of them will not reach their first birthday and thousands more will die before they reach adulthood.
  • Each year over 1,000,000 babies are born worldwide with a congenital heart defect. 100,000 of them will not live to see their first birthday and thousands more will die before they reach adulthood.


Sharing these facts with others is just one way we can help spread awareness for Congenital Heart Defects. 

When I was diagnosed with Hayden's condition at 20 weeks gestation, I had never even heard of CHD's- let alone known anyone who had been affected by it. I am proud of how much awareness we have raised in the past 6 years for this condition and thank all of you for standing alongside us in spreading awareness for Hayden and all of his buddies + families that have been affected by Congenital Heart Defects. 

If you would like to help us in our awareness this month, please share this email with your contacts, and help support our fundraiser posted below- proceeds to benefit Hayden's House of Healing

'Hayden's Dream' - thank you to Fin First + New Jersey Regional Director Jena Winter for your talent, vision and dedication! 

January 2018 Quarterly Newsletter

28 January 2018


Happy New Year!! ( a little late!!)


Below is a link to our first quarter newsletter for 2018!


We have so much in store for this year and are humbled by your continued support in our mission to fight the heart war with love. 



DEDICATED TO HAYDEN JETER DORSETT
3.12.12 - 8.16.12

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