Sometimes the quietest hours hold the loudest thoughts.

This space, Salty Blonde Living, has always been about sharing the beautiful and the broken—the in-between moments that shape who we are. What I’m about to share is the beginning of a story I’ve carried for a long time.

Over the next few posts, I’ll be sharing pieces form my social media during my son’s medical journey—photos, captions, and words written straight from a mother’s heart in the middle of despair. The grammar won’t be perfect, the punctuation won’t be right, but none of that mattered then. We were fighting for our lives.

I woke up the other morning at 2 a.m. and sat thinking about Salty Blonde Living. Somehow, it became really real.

My stats say I’m up 100% and I’m pretty sure one even said up 1700%—whatever that means. Math has never been my strong point, but it does mean someone is watching, reading, pondering… and maybe feeling seen and heard.

Then it hit me: this is real.

Do I share what my family has been through?

Do I start from day one?

Do I relive the trauma all over again?

Do I share everything I love— and in doing so, will people love it back?

Will they love me back?

Well here goes.

I figure that if I have stories to tell, then I should tell them. Today we’re going all the way back to July 2021.

This will be the part where I share what happened to my son. It will take many posts and much time as you get to know me on here. I’ve been waiting for the world to see this miracle of life, purpose, sorrow, and perspective. I’m scared but I’m ready.

It’s hard to go back… especially on a morning like this, as I sit cozily in bed at my father-in-law’s beach house, sipping coffee and looking outside the big bedroom window at the cool morning water, knowing in just a bit, the sun will warm everything up.

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July 26, 2021

Well, it’s been a wild few days. I am asking for all the prayers please for our son, Cannon. All we know is that he is very anemic and weak. I know we are in the best of hands with his specialists and doctors but are still trying to find out what is causing this sudden loss in blood that just seemed to come out of nowhere. So here we are just him and I, in the hospital tired, sad, and confused. If y’all would please lift Cannon up in prayer it would mean so much to us. I know God is working even when we don’t see it.

July 27, 2021

I cannot express my love enough to every single one of you who has commented, prayed, sent love, messaged, texted, and added us to their church prayer list, and called yesterday and today.

We still don’t have answers but God is our strength and Cannon is a walking angel on earth. Even though his walk is weak right now his spirit is trying to remain strong.

Locked in a hospital room, watching the clock tick by, really puts life into perspective. The small things really do not matter.

The doctor said his blood does look healthy so we are hanging on to that and continuing to keep our heads up high!

I promise to get back to every single one of you and I will hold close to my heart forever all the kind words sent to us today.

I wanted to post a picture of Cannon so when you do pray you have a mental image of him. Please keep the prayers coming. We feel them.

July 27, 2021

I know I haven’t really given an update but it’s been a little hard to pinpoint. So far all the “scary” things, as the doctors say, have been ruled out.

Cannon is hanging in there but a little sad this afternoon and evening. He is ready to go home.

Last night his hemoglobin rose a little which was great news and tonight at 10pm they take another round of blood. If by morning, it has increased more, than we should be able to go home with a plan from the doctors and specialists over the next few weeks for more outpatient testing.

This is the view from our room. Watching people walk around the city and live their life below while we are up here is a strange feeling.

When we walk out tomorrow (I am already speaking it!) there will still be many who are going on their third week or maybe even months here and I cannot even fathom what that must feel like.

So tonight all of you praying for us, and it has to be 1,000 of you prayer warriors (which has completely blown me away and made me cry tears of joy) please also pray for the others on this floor. Hearing babies cry all night and knowing kids and teens are here just makes your heart break. These families are tired.

We love you and appreciate all the prayers and kind words. Again, please keep the prayers coming. I am forever thankful and grateful.

Tonight is a big night.

We cling to faith.

Luke 6:48 (KJV) He is like a man which built an house and digged deep, and laid the foundation on a rock: and when the flood arose, the stream beat vehemently upon the house, and could not shake it: for it was founded upon a rock.

July 28, 2021

It’s a rainy day in Charleston but feels sunny in this hospital room because we are going home today!!!! His hemoglobin went up again last night so we can leave and should be discharged soon.

We don’t have as many answers as we would like but will be following up with GI doctors in just a few weeks and will continue to monitor his progress. Not out of the woods yet but a praise report that we get to go home. We are giving him iron supplements everyday and they will be monitoring how is body absorbs and metabolizes the iron.

I know I keep saying this but I am SO grateful for you all. I promise to respond back to every single person over the next few days. I am going to let Cannon read all the comments, prayers, and kind words left on all these posts and I know it will touch his heart as it has touched mine.

When I was feeling worried, which was frequent, I can’t tell you how many times I would cling to the comments you all left. It felt like a raft when drowning. I couldn’t believe my eyes that so many were praying. I won’t ever forget it.

Thank you to ll those who prayed for patients and families left on this hospital floor. Last night was the most quiet night that we have had here and I can’t help but think it’s all those prayers. No crying children… it was just really silent and oddly little peaceful but I know so many others have a long road ahead of them.

These things change you and I can’t see myself complaining about anything anymore. Spend time with your loved ones. Hug. Laugh. Love. Be thankful.

Please continue to pray when you think about us because we have an uphill battle to climb but I feel confident in the future God has planned for him.

If you have been lucky enough to meet Cannon then you would know he is the most gentle soul. Always loving and always kind. Again, we thank you from the bottom of our hearts and have been overwhelmed with the love you have showed us. It means so much to us. Thank You.

July 31, 2021

Take me back.

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Back to present day…

First let me say—the last picture I shared, skiing together in 2020, was a mother’s intuition that life was about to forever change. Those memories, where monumental fear didn’t exist, were about to become distant, so distant in fact that even if you tried, you couldn’t fully remember life before.

In the months prior, small signs began to appear. Cannon had complained about shoulder pain, which we initially thought was from baseball or growing pains, but my gut whispered that it could be something deeper. His energy slowly started to fade, his appetite waned, and as a 13-year-old, something just didn’t sit right. We could never have imagined the desert of desperation we were about to find ourselves in.

There’s so much more to this story and to be honest it’s left my heart racing. Reliving these memories and moments isn’t easy. In sharing these first few posts of Cannon’s journey I’ve realized there was almost a preparing in my heart of what was to come. That the things I feared most were the very things that were about to happen.

But even with all of that, I’m so grateful for where we are today. It’s still a journey… an everyday practice of choosing faith over fear.

If any of these words found you today, I hope you’ll follow along as I keep sharing more of my heart, my home, and the beauty that helps me heal.

With Love,
Erica
Salty Blonde Living