Our Keepsake Journal is Here! 🎉

I let my 15-year-old daughter get a tattoo, and no, I don’t care what anybody has to say about it.

Documenting important events in the form of a tattoo is nothing new, in fact, some cultures still view it as an actual rite of passage. Warriors did it to commemorate their battles and to honor those who have fallen.

I think the problem nowadays is anybody can walk into a tattoo parlor anywhere and get whatever fancies them at the time, which is great until the meaning behind it loses its meaning. I’m pretty sure most teenagers, and some adults, who are tattooing what’s cool to them now won’t love it forever and will eventually look at it with regret, so when my teenager asked me for one, trust me, I thought about it. And thought about it. And thought about it.

RELATED: Why I Let My Teens Drink Coffee

What was her reason? What did she want? Was she trying to impress her friends? Was she just following some trend?

We talked about it, and she told me she wanted to get a very small, very appropriate tattoo to honor her dad who passed away from cancer when she was 13. Even with that reasoning, I still struggled with it.

We talked about the tattoo her older sister, Savanna, got a couple of years ago. “I IV IX” placed delicately on the top of her foot. For those of you who aren’t up on your Roman numerals, that’s 1-4-9, which was my husband’s police badge number.

I couldn’t think of a more beautiful tribute. In fact, it still takes my breath away.

I started thinking about the meaning, and it was so much deeper than just numbers. You see, after his valiant fight with his disease, his badge number has become synonymous with strength, courage, and hope. That’s what it means to me, and clearly what it means to my kids.

The night Chad passed, I told Kaitlyn she didn’t have to go back into the room to watch him die. I told her I would stay in the hall with her. I explained what was happening, that he couldn’t breathe, that there was a gurgling in his throat and it sounded like he needed to clear it but couldn’t. I told her he would not wake up. I told her that he was going to stop breathing. And she didn’t have to watch that.

RELATED: Watching A Parent Battle Cancer Is Hell On Earth Torture

She said nothing as she blew past me and straight to his bedside to hold his hand. She told the nurse she was going to throw up. Her body shook. Tears fell from her eyes. Her dad gasped.

She sat straight up, wiped her face, swallowed hard, squeezed his hand, and told him he could go. She told him it was OK.

She stayed with him while he died and didn’t leave him for an hour after. She held his hand while he took his last breath, much in the same way he held hers when she took her first.

At that moment, I knew she was her father’s daughter. She was a beautiful example of the fighter he was.

After that night, she took a break from some things but returned to competitive gymnastics after a month and won the state championship for her age and level that year. She moved houses, made new friends, had plenty of girl drama, changed schools, and all the while got involved with pancreatic cancer awareness and research.

In the midst of all the change in her own life, she managed to continue to honor her dad.

And in my mind, that makes her a true warrior.

The things she has endured and the way she has survived is the true mark of all the things Chad wasstrong, courageous, and full of hope.

So, when Kaitlyn and her sister decided to get a tattoo to respect the battle and to honor their hero that fell, there was no way I was standing in the way of that. Not for one second.

RELATED: For As Long As We Love, We Grieve

As for me, the day before he died, I asked for a copy of his EKG. I have his real heartbeat tattooed on my foot so every time I look down, I know he’s with me. It’s part of him that is still alive.

One of my favorite things was laying on his chest listening to his heartbeat, and now I can still see it anytime I want. And my kids can look at theirs and be reminded they can survive anything.

So yes, I let my 15-year-old get a tattoo and no, I don’t care what anybody has to say about it because they have shown me, you, and anybody else who will listen what surviving looks like. They get to show that off however they want to. They’ve earned it.

Previously published on Love What Matters

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Diana Register

Diana Register is an international best selling author with titles that include, "Grief Life", "My Kid Is An Asshole and So Is My Dog", "The Pawn", "Saving Grace", "The Rainbow Assassin" and "Electric Man" - a book based on real-life events from her life after losing her husband to cancer.  When she's not writing books or spending time with the people she loves, she enjoys long walks to the martini bar, sleeping, avoiding laundry and chocolate chip cookies.

A Funeral, a Baby, and Whispers of Love

In: Grief, Loss
Newborn baby next to a purple onesie about a grandma in heaven

I woke up and saw a missed call from the hospital. I called her room, no answer. I  called the front desk and was immediately transferred to the doctor on rotation. My mother had crashed and was in the ICU. He asked if I wanted CPR if she coded. I needed to make a decision and come into the hospital as soon as possible. It was the wee hours of the morning, and I made it to the hospital fairly quickly. I grabbed my mother’s hand—it was ice cold. The nurses were talking to me, but I had tuned out,...

Keep Reading

The Last Text I Sent Said “I Love You”

In: Friendship, Grief, Living
Soldier in dress uniform, color photo

I’ve been saying “I love you” a lot recently. Not because I have been swept off my feet. Rather, out of a deep appreciation for the people in my life. My children, their significant others, and friends near and far. I have been blessed to keep many faithful friendships, despite the transitions we all experience throughout our lives.  Those from childhood, reunited high school classmates, children of my parent’s friends (who became like family), and those I met at college, through work and shared activities. While physical distance has challenged many of these relationships, cell phones, and Facebook have made...

Keep Reading

I Obsessed over Her Heartbeat Because She’s My Rainbow Baby

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Mother and teen daughter with ice cream cones, color photo

I delivered a stillborn sleeping baby boy five years before my rainbow baby. I carried this sweet baby boy for seven whole months with no indication that he wouldn’t live. Listening to his heartbeat at each prenatal visit until one day there was no heartbeat to hear. It crushed me. ”I’m sorry but your baby is dead,” are words I’ll never be able to unhear. And because of these words, I had no words. For what felt like weeks, I spoke only in tears as they streamed down my cheeks. But I know it couldn’t have been that long. Because...

Keep Reading

We’re Walking the Road of Twin Loss Together

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Mother and son walk along beach holding hands

He climbed into our bed last week, holding the teddy bear that came home in his twin brother’s hospital grief box almost 10 years earlier. “Mom, I really miss my brother. And do you see that picture of me over there with you, me and his picture in your belly? It makes me really, really sad when I look at it.” A week later, he was having a bad day and said, “I wish I could trade places with my brother.” No, he’s not disturbed or mentally ill. He’s a happy-go-lucky little boy who is grieving the brother who grew...

Keep Reading

Until I See You in Heaven, I’ll Cherish Precious Memories of You

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Toddler girl with bald head, color photo

Your memory floats through my mind so often that I’m often seeing two moments at once. I see the one that happened in the past, and I see the one I now live each day. These two often compete in my mind for importance. I can see you in the play of all young children. Listening to their fun, I hear your laughter clearly though others around me do not. A smile might cross my face at the funny thing you said once upon a time that is just a memory now prompted by someone else’s young child. The world...

Keep Reading

The Day My Mother Died I Thought My Faith Did Too

In: Faith, Grief, Loss
Holding older woman's hand

She left this world with an endless faith while mine became broken and shattered. She taught me to believe in God’s love and his faithfulness. But in losing her, I couldn’t feel it so I believed it to be nonexistent. I felt alone in ways like I’d never known before. I felt helpless and hopeless. I felt like He had abandoned my mother and betrayed me by taking her too soon. He didn’t feel near the brokenhearted. He felt invisible and unreal. The day my mother died I felt alone and faithless while still clinging to her belief of heaven....

Keep Reading

To the Healthcare Workers Who Held My Broken Heart

In: Grief, Loss
Baby hat with hospital certificate announcing stillbirth, color photo

We all have hard days at work. Those days that push our physical, mental, and emotional limits out of bounds and don’t play fair. 18 years ago, I walked into an OB/GYN emergency room feeling like something was off, just weeks away from greeting our first child. As I reflect on that day, which seems like a lifetime ago and also just yesterday, I find myself holding space for the way my journey catalyzed a series of impossibly hard days at work for some of the people who have some of the most important jobs in the world. RELATED: To...

Keep Reading

Can I Still Trust Jesus after Losing My Child?

In: Faith, Grief, Loss
Sad woman with hands on face

Everyone knows there is a time to be born and a time to die. We expect both of those unavoidable events in our lives, but we don’t expect them to come just 1342 days apart. For my baby daughter, cancer decided that the number of her days would be so many fewer than the hopeful expectation my heart held as her mama. I had dreams that began the moment the two pink lines faintly appeared on the early morning pregnancy test. I had hopes that grew with every sneak peek provided during my many routine ultrasounds. I had formed a...

Keep Reading

I Loved You to the End

In: Grief, Living
Dog on outdoor chair, color photo

As your time on this earth came close to the end, I pondered if I had given you the best life. I pondered if more treatment would be beneficial or harmful. I pondered if you knew how much you were loved and cherished As the day to say goodbye grew closer, I thought about all the good times we had. I remembered how much you loved to travel. I remembered how many times you were there for me in my times of darkness. You would just lay right next to me on the days I could not get out of...

Keep Reading

I Hate What the Drugs Have Done but I Love You

In: Grief, Living
Black and white image of woman sitting on floor looking away with arms covering her face

Sister, we haven’t talked in a while. We both know the reason why. Yet again, you had a choice between your family and drugs, and you chose the latter. I want you to know I still don’t hate you. What I do hate is the drugs you always seem to go back to once things get too hard for you. RELATED: Love the Addict So Hard it Hurts Speaking of hard, I won’t sugarcoat the fact that being around you when you’re actively using is so hard. Your anger, your manipulation, and your deceit are too much for me (or anyone around you) to...

Keep Reading