Kickin’ It with Kate ❤️

If you know me, you probably know that asking for help isn’t exactly my favorite thing to do.

I’m much more comfortable being the person who shows up.

The person who brings the meal.

Who does ALL the things.
Who checks in.
Who helps with the kids.
Who volunteers.
Who listens.
Who finds a way to make something work.
Who says, “We’ve got this,” even when things are hard.

Our family has always tried to be that family for other people. We’ve opened our home, our time, our energy, our resources and our hearts to the people around us. We believe that when someone needs help, you show up. You don’t keep score. You just do what you can.

So writing this is humbling.

After years of surgeries, infections, complications, pain and more attempts to save my leg than I ever imagined I could go through, I have reached a point where saving my leg and getting my life back are no longer the same thing.

On October 28th, I will have an above-knee amputation.

That sentence is so strange to write.

This isn’t the ending I ever wanted. It’s scary. It’s heartbreaking. And there are certainly moments when I wish I could wake up and find out none of this happened.

But underneath all of that, there is something I haven’t felt in a very long time:

Hope.

For the first time in years, I’m not trying to figure out how to make a broken leg survive.

I’m trying to figure out how to make me thrive.

I want to hike with my kids.

I want to run around at their activities instead of figuring out where I can sit and elevate my leg.

I want to go camping and keep up with everyone.

I want to spend time with out hiking and training my adventure kitty. 

I want to be a mom who is present for life instead of a mom constantly managing pain, appointments, infections, limitations and the next surgery.

And I want to get back to being the person who shows up for everybody else.

The surgery itself is covered by our insurance, but the surgery is only the beginning.

There will be months of recovery, rehabilitation, mobility equipment, transportation, medical expenses that aren’t covered, time away from work, prosthetic-related costs and a long road toward learning how to walk and live differently.

That’s where we’re asking for help.

Our goal is $25,000.

This money will help give our family some breathing room while I recover and work toward becoming independently mobile again. It will help cover the expenses that come with this enormous transition and, most importantly, give me the time and resources I need to focus on healing instead of constantly worrying about how we’re going to make everything work financially.

I’m not asking anyone to fix this for me.

I’m asking for a little help getting through the hardest part so that I can get back to doing what I love—and eventually get back to being the person who helps everyone else.

If you are able to donate, thank you. Truly.

If you can’t donate, please don’t feel bad. Sharing this fundraiser may be just as valuable. Send it to a friend. Share it on Facebook. Text it to someone who knows our family. Help us get this story in front of people we could never reach on our own.

And if you know me personally, you know how much it means to me to be able to say this:

I’ve spent a lot of years showing up for other people. This time, we’re letting our people show up for us.

Every donation, every share, every message, every prayer, every “you’ve got this” is one more reminder that we aren’t doing this alone.

October 28th isn’t the end of my story.

It’s the beginning of the next chapter.

And I’m ready to kick it. ❤️

Thank you for helping me get back to the life I’ve been fighting so hard for.

— Kate, Kevin and the rest of the duck family 🦆 🦆 🦆