I am wrecked. My son's body is broken. Our family is separated once again... yet I offer this:
Here is my broken hallelujah.
God desires us to press deeper into him. As we cry out to him, he looks down in as much pain as I feel. Every emotion I can feel as a parent, it gives me me a deeper understanding about God's love and also the pain he feels when we are in pain.
We live in a broken and a sinful world.
Through all of these trials created by the newest member of our family, I have never asked why me. Instead I have asked God, "why not me?!"
It has been an emotional and physical battle since even before our premature son was born. Yet my faith is deepen. It is strengthened by this trial. I pray that our faith has increased the faith of others as well, knowing that God works all together for His good and glory...no matter the outcome.
It does not make this trial any easier or reduce the amount of pain or fear we are currently enduring. It doesn't mean that we don't cry or worry and fuss over our son (while worrying and fussing over our other two children). It doesn't mean we have figured it out. It feels like we are (and have been) in a state of survival. But, having said all of that, it does give light and hope for our eternal life with no brokenness.
Many people say that becoming a parent increases your understanding of who God is… I believe this whole heartedly. Nothing about this season of life is easy, but it is incredible to see time and time again God's promise proving to be real, true, and consistent! So we press into him deeper and deeper relying on his strength not our own. Our own strength fails us. Our emotions sometimes rage. Sometimes we are complete and utter wrecks! But we know that God is always near. He walks behind us, and front of us, beside us, and in us. The Holy Spirit envelops our very being by revealing God's love to us moment by moment. In our pain we give praise.
So in our pain, hurt, anguish (and every other emotion imaginable), we offer this:
Our broken hallelujah!
Sunday, May 21, 2017
Saturday, May 20, 2017
Growing a boy: Back at the hospital
Monday (May 15) our now full-term son (born 7-weeks early) began to have trouble eating. At first we didn't think too much of it but as a precaution we took him in to see a pediatrician on Tuesday. His reflux was the culprit, the pediatrician thought, so we added an antacid to our son's diet: twice a day -- morning and night. The first day it seemed to be working but a few days of the meds on board and it seemed like he was doing worse.
Last night was the worst of all! He stopped breathing twice...so much so that the Owlet foot alarm blared to warn us of his condition, oxygen dipping below 80. Racing into his nursery to stimulate him--rubbing and patting his back-- he finally took a breath. In addition, he was in so much pain he literally had to be held all night. My husband and I took turns throughout the night consoling him. Laying him down for 30 seconds or less would send him into a fit of rage. Poor thing. We couldn't figure out why he was in so much pain, why he wasn't eating and why he had stopped breathing. At about 5am we were getting desperate...again troubleshooting why our son would appear to the sucking on the bottle but not consuming any milk. We decided to try the preemie bottle nipple (he hadn't used this in over 3 weeks). Success! He "downed" 2 ounces...still a fraction of what we was eating before all of this occurred but more than he had eaten since the day before.
Of course we were concerned. The husband decided to take him to the hospital first thing this morning to get evaluated. I later joined him once our nanny arrived at 11am. After a quick evaluation, he was admitted for a 24-hour observation. To our relief, Ollie had gained weight since Tuesday instead of losing (upwards of 9 pounds now!)...great considering he hadn't had very much at all to eat from 7p Friday night until 7a Saturday morning. Yet there were still many questions:
Shortly after arriving to the hospital, Ollie and I went with the nurse to the x-ray room in the ER. I sat on the stretcher holding Ollie, who was attached to an oxygen & heart monitor. My sweet son slept the whole ride. When we arrived, he was stripped down to a diaper and placed in this mid-evil torture looking device which would keep him still for the tummy and lung x-rays. It was horrifying to see my son----- sitting upright, strapped into this device, arms stretched overhead, head held by a leather band that was strapped to the plastic "body" holding device thing-----screaming as the x-ray techs worked as fast as they could to get the films so they could remove him. Wow.
The x-rays were good and showed that his lung looked good and a tummy full of......GAS! Yup! Gas! In addition to the reflux he has severe gas which he cannot pass...poor guy! Thankfully, Ollie calmed down quickly in my arms and within less than a minute he was fast asleep as we rode back up to his hospital room.
About an hour later the doctor came and shared with us that his x-rays looked normal aside from the gas. His esophagus is most likely stinging due the high amount of reflux. She changed his reflux meds and increased the dose as well as added IV fluids to ensure he was hydrated. She also suggested that I should cut out dairy from my diet...surprisingly something I started 3 days ago!
So once again, our family is separated. My husband is at the hospital with our youngest and I am home with this bigs. We are still unsure of the outcome...they say he should grow out of the reflux (maybe around 3-5 months old?); his esophagus should heal quick-ish which would allow him to eat more (plus adding some rice-cereal to thicken the milk and better coat his throat); the elimination of dairy in my diet should (hopefully) reduce the reflux Ollie is experiencing. It is a waiting game coupled with trial and error. We are patiently enduring, trying to embrace every moment of this crazy thing called parenthood.
Last night was the worst of all! He stopped breathing twice...so much so that the Owlet foot alarm blared to warn us of his condition, oxygen dipping below 80. Racing into his nursery to stimulate him--rubbing and patting his back-- he finally took a breath. In addition, he was in so much pain he literally had to be held all night. My husband and I took turns throughout the night consoling him. Laying him down for 30 seconds or less would send him into a fit of rage. Poor thing. We couldn't figure out why he was in so much pain, why he wasn't eating and why he had stopped breathing. At about 5am we were getting desperate...again troubleshooting why our son would appear to the sucking on the bottle but not consuming any milk. We decided to try the preemie bottle nipple (he hadn't used this in over 3 weeks). Success! He "downed" 2 ounces...still a fraction of what we was eating before all of this occurred but more than he had eaten since the day before.
Of course we were concerned. The husband decided to take him to the hospital first thing this morning to get evaluated. I later joined him once our nanny arrived at 11am. After a quick evaluation, he was admitted for a 24-hour observation. To our relief, Ollie had gained weight since Tuesday instead of losing (upwards of 9 pounds now!)...great considering he hadn't had very much at all to eat from 7p Friday night until 7a Saturday morning. Yet there were still many questions:
- Did he have virus?
- Was he being affected due to his partial lung removal?
- Is it something I am consuming and passing to him via breastmilk?
- Does he have such severe reflux that his esophagus has been compromised?
Shortly after arriving to the hospital, Ollie and I went with the nurse to the x-ray room in the ER. I sat on the stretcher holding Ollie, who was attached to an oxygen & heart monitor. My sweet son slept the whole ride. When we arrived, he was stripped down to a diaper and placed in this mid-evil torture looking device which would keep him still for the tummy and lung x-rays. It was horrifying to see my son----- sitting upright, strapped into this device, arms stretched overhead, head held by a leather band that was strapped to the plastic "body" holding device thing-----screaming as the x-ray techs worked as fast as they could to get the films so they could remove him. Wow.
The x-rays were good and showed that his lung looked good and a tummy full of......GAS! Yup! Gas! In addition to the reflux he has severe gas which he cannot pass...poor guy! Thankfully, Ollie calmed down quickly in my arms and within less than a minute he was fast asleep as we rode back up to his hospital room.
About an hour later the doctor came and shared with us that his x-rays looked normal aside from the gas. His esophagus is most likely stinging due the high amount of reflux. She changed his reflux meds and increased the dose as well as added IV fluids to ensure he was hydrated. She also suggested that I should cut out dairy from my diet...surprisingly something I started 3 days ago!
So once again, our family is separated. My husband is at the hospital with our youngest and I am home with this bigs. We are still unsure of the outcome...they say he should grow out of the reflux (maybe around 3-5 months old?); his esophagus should heal quick-ish which would allow him to eat more (plus adding some rice-cereal to thicken the milk and better coat his throat); the elimination of dairy in my diet should (hopefully) reduce the reflux Ollie is experiencing. It is a waiting game coupled with trial and error. We are patiently enduring, trying to embrace every moment of this crazy thing called parenthood.
Monday, May 15, 2017
Isolation: We need fellowship
The journey over the last 7 weeks has been incredible.
Isolation due to the fact that I could move with my huge pregnant belly, a medical conditions caused by my pregnancy, did not allow me to tote myself or my other two kids around for weeks before our third child was born. Isolated.
The week before our third was born, I found myself so uncomfortable and also in the hospital. It was nearly impossible to think about entertaining (I could hardly hold a conversation with myself). Isolated.
The 28-days after our third was born were spent traveling to and from Seattle Children's Hospital and Tacoma General. Although we did have a few visitors, we largely remained stressed, exhausted and isolated.
Two weeks into being home with our little guy, we still feel isolated. Our preemie son needs a lot of attention yet we are excited to have play dates and get back into a new-normal of life with our friends.
It is hard going through everything we have gone through...the unexpected, not knowing if our son would live or die. We are so grateful for the meals, text messages and practical ways we have been served (like picking up bananas at the store, mowing our lawn, helping us get our house back in order after our flooded basement). This certainly made this ordeal a million times better.
We sure have not gotten down the "having 3 under three thing" as of yet and getting out of the house is like preparing for a mission to Mars.... SO please, we welcome healthy visitors to our home! We are in need of play dates, adult conversation, play times for our "bigs." Fellowship is key to keeping our sanity. So, if you feel so inclined, send us a text or ring us on the phone and lets plan a play-date! :)
Isolation due to the fact that I could move with my huge pregnant belly, a medical conditions caused by my pregnancy, did not allow me to tote myself or my other two kids around for weeks before our third child was born. Isolated.
The week before our third was born, I found myself so uncomfortable and also in the hospital. It was nearly impossible to think about entertaining (I could hardly hold a conversation with myself). Isolated.
The 28-days after our third was born were spent traveling to and from Seattle Children's Hospital and Tacoma General. Although we did have a few visitors, we largely remained stressed, exhausted and isolated.
Two weeks into being home with our little guy, we still feel isolated. Our preemie son needs a lot of attention yet we are excited to have play dates and get back into a new-normal of life with our friends.
It is hard going through everything we have gone through...the unexpected, not knowing if our son would live or die. We are so grateful for the meals, text messages and practical ways we have been served (like picking up bananas at the store, mowing our lawn, helping us get our house back in order after our flooded basement). This certainly made this ordeal a million times better.
We sure have not gotten down the "having 3 under three thing" as of yet and getting out of the house is like preparing for a mission to Mars.... SO please, we welcome healthy visitors to our home! We are in need of play dates, adult conversation, play times for our "bigs." Fellowship is key to keeping our sanity. So, if you feel so inclined, send us a text or ring us on the phone and lets plan a play-date! :)
Friday, May 12, 2017
Maybe I Stopped Caring
...or maybe I am just too overwhelmed to notice.
Nothing in this year has gone as we had planned. We found out we were pregnant, lost a loved one, our basement flooded (TWICE!), discovered medical complications with my pregnancy which lead to a very stressful delivery followed by 28 days in the NICU. We are facing some other difficult, emotional circumstances on top of this as well. Life is not easy.
I find myself numb some days, going through the motions while trying to manage three very reliant children (of course all needing everything from me at the same time). Moments of rest are few and far between. When I do get rest, I worry that my youngest, only 5 weeks old, will stop breathing...which he does on occasion. We are on high alert all of the time. This, of course, does not help with my "healing" c-section site.
We feel exhausted and isolated, trying to do what we can to reach out but understanding that everyone has their own woes to deal with. It is tough.
I am thankful these three children have made me a mother. They challenge my patience and reliance on God more than any other person has. When I grow weary, I know that God gives the extra strength. When I go through the motions (or fall asleep while bottle feeding our son), God is there to protect, guide, lead, be my beacon of strength.
I find that the simplest daily activities can cause me to be overwhelmed...the dish, laundry, bathing our children. Still facing physically limitation, this does not help. Our sweet youngest refuses to nurse. This causes me to spend at least 2-4 hours a day sitting at my breast pump, doing an enormous amount of "pump" dishes on top of the time is actually takes to bottle feed him (at least 30 min - 1 hour per feeding). Add in diaper changes on top of the needs to two others at 2 1/2 and 16 months, it can get pretty rough.
So all this to say...I continue to try to adopt the saying "it is what it is." My life circumstances may not change any time soon so I need to change my outlook on my circumstances. I may not get a solid night sleep any time soon but I need to take advantage of those sweet moments of rest (what I am doing writing this right now?!?). My son may never breastfed. My other two kids will fight with each other. The dishes will pile up as will the laundry... Embrace it. This is life. This is reality...three precious darlings that I love so much and a husband who is fighting the fight with me.
Even though it might feel like I have stopped caring, the real truth is: I care too much.
Nothing in this year has gone as we had planned. We found out we were pregnant, lost a loved one, our basement flooded (TWICE!), discovered medical complications with my pregnancy which lead to a very stressful delivery followed by 28 days in the NICU. We are facing some other difficult, emotional circumstances on top of this as well. Life is not easy.
I find myself numb some days, going through the motions while trying to manage three very reliant children (of course all needing everything from me at the same time). Moments of rest are few and far between. When I do get rest, I worry that my youngest, only 5 weeks old, will stop breathing...which he does on occasion. We are on high alert all of the time. This, of course, does not help with my "healing" c-section site.
We feel exhausted and isolated, trying to do what we can to reach out but understanding that everyone has their own woes to deal with. It is tough.
I am thankful these three children have made me a mother. They challenge my patience and reliance on God more than any other person has. When I grow weary, I know that God gives the extra strength. When I go through the motions (or fall asleep while bottle feeding our son), God is there to protect, guide, lead, be my beacon of strength.
I find that the simplest daily activities can cause me to be overwhelmed...the dish, laundry, bathing our children. Still facing physically limitation, this does not help. Our sweet youngest refuses to nurse. This causes me to spend at least 2-4 hours a day sitting at my breast pump, doing an enormous amount of "pump" dishes on top of the time is actually takes to bottle feed him (at least 30 min - 1 hour per feeding). Add in diaper changes on top of the needs to two others at 2 1/2 and 16 months, it can get pretty rough.
So all this to say...I continue to try to adopt the saying "it is what it is." My life circumstances may not change any time soon so I need to change my outlook on my circumstances. I may not get a solid night sleep any time soon but I need to take advantage of those sweet moments of rest (what I am doing writing this right now?!?). My son may never breastfed. My other two kids will fight with each other. The dishes will pile up as will the laundry... Embrace it. This is life. This is reality...three precious darlings that I love so much and a husband who is fighting the fight with me.
Even though it might feel like I have stopped caring, the real truth is: I care too much.
Thursday, May 11, 2017
Aging Gracefully: What has your body done
Not a day goes by that I don't think about my body. How it is changing. How I want it to change. Limitations from the things I used to do. And the comparisons to what the world thinks I should look like or what I should be able to do.
The wrinkles on my face deepen. The wire-like gray in my hair appears more and more each day causing me to either pluck it (eeekkk! I know!!) or use a lot of hair gel to calm it. My stretched out stomach skin and marks gives history of birthing three precious children. I am sure the traumatic end to my last pregnancy and spending 28 days in the NICU with my youngest didn't help. Now having a household full of three children under 2-years and three-quarters old doesn't help either. YIKES!
With my last pregnancy, at 33 weeks pregnant, my stomach was beyond stretched out...literally as tight like a water balloon about ready to burst. It was so large it was shiny and hurt at a single touch. Five weeks postpartum, and having just turned 35, my mind is shifting on how I (should) view my self image
In a world that is focused around self image, I realize that instead of fighting my body I need to embrace it!
My body has allowed me to do some pretty incredible things in this life! As a child I was able to dance ballet, run outside freely, climb on the jungle gym during recess, ride a bike among other things. As the years passed, my body has enabled me to travel to some incredible places and experience some amazing things like riding a camel in the Sahara desert, walking up all of the stairs of the Eiffel Tower, and carry a backpack to some pretty remote places through Europe. It has allowed me to teach at a community college and has allowed me to help shape the mind of university students. Now it allows me to chase after and care for three of God's most precious possession.
In the past three years, my body has enabled me to carry three children. Every stretch mark & varicose vein tells a story of great love and sacrifice for each child. The gray hair that seems to grow more rapidly these days is a sign that I am still alive and able to enjoy the children that God has blessed me with (and hopefully a sign of aging with wisdom)… Even on the days, when I struggle with my body aging and feel so overwhelmed that I feel like pulling out all of my hair including the grays, I am grateful.
It is so easy to dismiss the miracle the body truly is. The way it heals itself, the way it moves, and allows me to critically process through the world around me. I wish I could say that I don't struggle with body image, but I do. In this new year & new season, I want to focus more on who I am and not what I look like… Or think I should look like. That is not to say that exercise and a well balanced diet will be thrown out the window, but rather my life focus will be on enjoying those that God has blessed me with including my family as well as enjoying the body he has given me...each "imperfection" and all.
The wrinkles on my face deepen. The wire-like gray in my hair appears more and more each day causing me to either pluck it (eeekkk! I know!!) or use a lot of hair gel to calm it. My stretched out stomach skin and marks gives history of birthing three precious children. I am sure the traumatic end to my last pregnancy and spending 28 days in the NICU with my youngest didn't help. Now having a household full of three children under 2-years and three-quarters old doesn't help either. YIKES!
With my last pregnancy, at 33 weeks pregnant, my stomach was beyond stretched out...literally as tight like a water balloon about ready to burst. It was so large it was shiny and hurt at a single touch. Five weeks postpartum, and having just turned 35, my mind is shifting on how I (should) view my self image
In a world that is focused around self image, I realize that instead of fighting my body I need to embrace it!
My body has allowed me to do some pretty incredible things in this life! As a child I was able to dance ballet, run outside freely, climb on the jungle gym during recess, ride a bike among other things. As the years passed, my body has enabled me to travel to some incredible places and experience some amazing things like riding a camel in the Sahara desert, walking up all of the stairs of the Eiffel Tower, and carry a backpack to some pretty remote places through Europe. It has allowed me to teach at a community college and has allowed me to help shape the mind of university students. Now it allows me to chase after and care for three of God's most precious possession.
In the past three years, my body has enabled me to carry three children. Every stretch mark & varicose vein tells a story of great love and sacrifice for each child. The gray hair that seems to grow more rapidly these days is a sign that I am still alive and able to enjoy the children that God has blessed me with (and hopefully a sign of aging with wisdom)… Even on the days, when I struggle with my body aging and feel so overwhelmed that I feel like pulling out all of my hair including the grays, I am grateful.
It is so easy to dismiss the miracle the body truly is. The way it heals itself, the way it moves, and allows me to critically process through the world around me. I wish I could say that I don't struggle with body image, but I do. In this new year & new season, I want to focus more on who I am and not what I look like… Or think I should look like. That is not to say that exercise and a well balanced diet will be thrown out the window, but rather my life focus will be on enjoying those that God has blessed me with including my family as well as enjoying the body he has given me...each "imperfection" and all.
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