An Ode to Daycare

When Noah was born, and for the first few years, I didn't let him out of my sight.  Even when I went back to teaching, I left him with a friend or her mom.  It ended up being to both our detriment and I've learned from our experiences.


With Avery, I have embraced his once-a-week trip to daycare.  And Avery, in turn, embraces it also.



Avery's daycare teachers are a blessing to us, to our whole family.  It is small, operated out of a church and Christian-centered.  I happened to have gone to high school with the director; when word got around that I was in need of child care for Avery so I could go back to "work" at the center, she offered him a place with her center.  Whew, problem solved!  I didn't have to turn my 1 year old over to strangers or a daycare-mill.  I knew he would be safe, well-loved and well cared for with my high school classmate and her teachers.

Avery loves his daycare and I believe he needs it.  He thinks it's playtime and even better, he gets a break from Mommy.  When we pull into the parking lot, he starts shouting the name of his daycare and "Yay!  I'm here!  I'm here!"  If I take too long getting him out of the car once we're parked, he tells me to hurry up.  He races up 21 steps (counting them all) as fast as his little legs will carry him, clutching his lunch box and singing.  When he arrives at the check-in table, he spreads his arms wide and proudly announces, "I'M HEEEEERE!"  When I return for him, he greets with me with a hug, a smile and tells me, "I had fun, Mommy!"

I also need this time away Avery.  It gives me the break I need and the time I need to do what God calls me to do at the center.  I need this time to regroup as a person, a Believer and as a mom.

Daycare is a bright spot in our lives.  I have peace of mind knowing I have left my child with people I trust, so I don't worry about him (as much!) while I am helping my friends at the center minister to others.  I leave Avery there knowing the care he receives is close enough to what I'd give him at home.  I know he is loved, cared for and about, and is learning not just what his teachers are giving him from the curriculum, but how to share and get along with others and that Mommy always comes back.  I know Avery is safe and gets the attention he d eserves and needs.  When Avery and I leave together in the afternoons, I have a good feeling in my heart. I am grateful for his 3 hours at daycare each week.  My son is blessed by this director and her teachers.  And so am I.


-------------------------------------------------------


The following post was written by one of Avery's daycare teachers.  I hope you will take the time to read it.  As Noah's mom, it brought tears for me and I hope it will reach you, also.  My mentor constantly reminds me that "these kids" are perfect because GOD created them.  It is us--society--who views them as imperfect.  I love this teacher's change of heart, revelation and open-mindedness.  Personally, I think anyone who is going to work with children with special needs should read this particular post.  Enjoy!


http://thoughtsthunkbyathinkymom.blogspot.com/2011/09/diamonds-in-rough.html

To God Be the Glory

This one starts out very much unlike my title, but hang in there with me, I do have a point I eventually get to!!  :)


Today's been a long, hot day.  Shawn, my conspiracy-theorist husband whom I love dearly, has jokingly told everyone we are "going off the grid."  The truth is that he refuses to turn the AC back on.  It's September now, fall has officially arrived according to the calendar, so we no longer need our AC.  I beg to differ.


If you're taking notes, that's Complaint #1.


Avery woke up 5 times last night, screaming for me each time.  I caught puke in my hands, Noah was still having difficulty with long division, we missed Avery's playgroup (due to the puke in my hands) and I was feeling a little pressured with everything I needed to accomplish today:  baking for Sweet Niece before another surgery, filling a baking order for a friend, baking for our dear librarians and for the young man who rescued us the other day when the battery died while we were out.  I wanted to make sure Noah made it to the Library of Congress exhibit in the next county and I needed to do some shopping for "work" for tomorrow.  I was also in charge of two extra boys later in the day, had baking and prep work to do for "work" tomorrow, plus dinner.  My car battery died again while I was picking one of my extra boys up from school, the house is too hot--you get the idea.  I finally patted myself on the back when everything was completed and I could sit down for a minute....  Only to realize I'd forgotten about the laundry that still needed to be doing.  My hands hurt so much I couldn't turn a screwdriver to change the batteries in one of Avery's toys and my back was in such bad shape I couldn't stand up straight.  I finally decided to take my night-night pills extra early, along with two Vicodin for my pain.  I won't even go into the temper tantrum I had at lunch time when everyone fixed their lunches and didn't ask if I wanted anything, even though every single day I make sure they have lunch, snack and dinner before I do.  Their actions hurt and left me feeling taken for granted.  Oh, and Shawn worked from home today.


Those are Complaints #2-100.


My mom sent an email today to tell me that she's been sharing my blogs, particularly my last entry, with people who either need lifting up or need a good laugh.  People like me who have accepted our lots in life and decided to be thankful for the good things instead of concentrating on the negative.  My first thought was, "Great.  Does that mean I always have to be positive and upbeat?!"  No pressure, right???  My dear readers, you of all people know that I am not an optimist by nature.  As I've told you before, my Starbucks cup is usually half empty.  I am anything but positive and upbeat.  I was thinking it was probably a good thing I hadn't planned on posting today!  Oops.


However, with that on my mind, I started thinking, "How can I turn this day around?  How can I make something positive out of how I feel today?"  


Steven Curtis Chapman has a new song out called "Do Everything" that has been giving me some real food for thought.  I often find myself smiling, singing along and tapping my fingers on the steering wheel.  I also find myself in prayer when I hear this song, "Lord, help me to serve you in everything I do, right down to changing diapers."  Funny how SCC knows exactly what is on my mind!  Here is the first verse and part of the chorus, which is what speaks to me the most:

You’re picking up toys on the living room floor

for the 15th time today

Matching up socks and sweeping up lost

Cheerios that got away

You put a baby on your hip and color on your lips

and head out the door

And while I may not know you I bet I know you

Wonder sometimes does it matter at all

Well let me remind you it all matters just as long as you

Do everything you do to the glory of the One who made you

Cause He made you to do

Every little thing that you do to bring a smile to His face

And tell the story of grace

With every move that you make

And every little thing you do

So, there you have it:  how I turned my day around and made something positive out it.  I'm doing it all for His glory.  God gave me this life, these children, my husband (even when he works from home), this body that fails me at times, my dear friends and Sweet Niece....  And the AC.  I love the looks on the faces of my extra boys when I serve them homemade chocolate chip cookies and milk after school: The look that says, "I could get used to this!" I love their mom dearly, but the only reason she has a kitchen is because it came with her house.  I love it when the librarians, who are always so good to us and so patient with my loud toddler and my inquisitive ten year old, smile when we give them a platter of goodies.  I love spoiling Sweet Niece and leaving goodies on her front porch. These are the things that give me joy.  These are part of the blessings I have been granted in this life.  I need to remember to serve with joy in my heart, with the loving heart of a servant, with gratefulness in my words, even when it's difficult to do so.  The days I don't feel up to it are the days I need to do this the most.  

And, I need to remember to laugh when I find that my husband has added his own opinion to the title of the book I'm reading for our MOPS Bible study....

  

Guest Post

A few weeks ago a friend of mine, and fellow blogger, asked me to write a guest post for her blog series about personal challenges.  She asked me to write either about being Noah's mom and everything that goes with it, or about the challenges I've face with my own health.  I chose the latter because right now I'm sure I can be inspirational when it comes to being Noah's mom.  :)

I've included the link to my post.  It's on the long side (when haven't my posts been on the long side?!), but I hope you will take the time.  Before I sent it to my friend Jodi, I had two other friends read it, telling them it was too long and asking what they thought I could cut out.  Both responded with "Don't change anything.  If someone really needs to hear what you have to say, they will read it in its entirety."  So, because I trust these two woman so much, I didn't change anything.

I hope you will also take the time to read some of Jodi's posts.  She herself has quite an inspirational story!  Not too long ago, she was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor.  She and her husband sought out several opinions until they finally found a surgeon who looked at her 4 young children and realized he felt obligated to at least try to remove her tumor.  Today, she is tumor free, but her story is not without some hiccups (to say the least).  When I need a pick-me-up, I read Jodi's posts.  Her attitude and perspective are amazing to me.  I'm sure they will be to you as well!

Thanks for reading!

http://www.lifeconstructionzone.com/2011/09/personal-challenges-chronic-illness.html

I'm Sorry, Did You Say CAMPING?

This is how I feel about camping.

This is how Shawn, Noah and Avery feel about camping.

As you can see, camping doesn't excite me a whole lot.  I like it better when S'mores are involved, but the whole "outdoor thing" doesn't do much for me.  I remember in one episode of the tv show "Monk," the title character remarked, "Nature!  Dirty!"  YES!  EXACTLY!  Nature is dirty.  And there are snakes, spiders and other assorted creatures out to get me.  And there aren't any hot showers.  Or potties. Or beds.  Or my newfound favorite electric appliance, the Keurig, which happens to make my chai almost as good as Starbucks does....  I can't help it, I like my creature comforts.  Minus the creature part, of course.

Well, I married an outdoorsy kind of guy.  Shawn LIVES to camp.  I kid you not.  He loves the creatures, minus the comfort part.  If he could figure out how move us all to a tent in the middle of a national forest, he'd do it.  If he could convince me to live without running water or electricity, we'd be out of our house in a heartbeat.  Most days I think he would have been much happier as a park ranger than as a trekkie, um, I mean techie.  The further away from civilization he is, the happier he is.  Noah is following in Shawn's footsteps; like me, Avery likes the S'mores part of camping, but has yet to spend the night in a tent.  Shawn is very good about cultivating a love of the outdoors in our boys.  He takes them hiking, biking, walking and camping.  Shawn works hard with Noah on his Boy Scout merits.  He's a good dad.  Unfortunately, the backyard is as far as they've been able to take the tent for quite a while.

Recently, I agreed to go camping with my boys.... Not in the backyard, either.  Without a shower.  Or a potty.  Or a bed.  Or my beloved Keurig.  Shawn says what I've agreed to isn't "real" camping, because we won't be out in the wilderness, but it's the closest thing I can volunteer myself for right now.  We are still going to be sheltered by a tent, shower-less and using port-a-potties.  Ew.  And I'm sure there will be plenty of creatures to go around.  Double ew.

"Amy, you silly, crazy woman, why did you agree to such a thing?" You ask.

Because I want to hear some good music and spend a fun weekend with my boys!  There is a weekend music festival we've been wanting to go to for several years now.  One year I was too sick, another year I was too pregnant, the next year Avery was too little.  It was always something.  And the festival was always held smack-dab in the middle of summer's most extreme heat, which proved to be too much for many people.  This year, it's been moved to the end of September so it will be cooler; they've also moved it to a campground, so camping is available.  *groan*  I mean, YAY!  Seriously, I am excited about it.  I can't wait to see Avery's expression when he gets to hear his favorite song live and Noah's face when he gets to see one of his favorite Christian singers live.  For the kids, it's an excuse to get away with eating foods I don't normally let them have and a chance to run a little wild.  It will be a chance to cook out with each other, count stars, do some praise and worship as a family and spend some quality time together.   I'm looking forward to a fun family weekend without computers and my husband's company calling him every couple hours to fix something.  Of course, I'm romanticizing things just a little.  We are the Furrs, after all, so there will be plenty of general mayhem, mishaps and Asperger/ADHD moments to go around, plenty of toddler tantrums, Shawn complaining about too many people, me trying to keep the peace and eventually losing control of myself, I mean, the entire situation.  That should take up the first hour of our arrival, so then we can get on with the fun!

So, if you happen to know what I'm talking about and plan to be there, be sure to look for us!  I'll be the one complaining about the port-a-potties and lack of showers, with the cranky husband, over-exhausted screaming toddler and overexcited ten year old... 

"Not Yet"

Patience is not my virtue.  Never has been, I'm not sure it ever will be.  Quite often I find myself stomping my foot and pouting like a petulant child over God's direction for my life, especially when he says "No" or "Not yet." I'm quite certain He shakes His head, and with a mournful smile, He says, "Oh my dear child, you have so much to learn."

"B-b-b-b-b-but Goooooooo-od," I whine, "This is what I want to do and I want to do it now!"

This seems to be happening a lot lately.  I do believe God is doing His very best to teach me patience.

I have put my life on hold to raise my children.  That's fine, this is my choice; it's what Shawn and I believe to be best for Noah and Avery.  I have no desire to do anything that would mean taking away from my children full time.  Still, there are times I find myself wondering if this is really all there is to it. What's wrong with hiring a sitter for an hour or two so I can take one class here and there?   What's wrong with wanting a little more for myself and my education?  I start wallowing and feeling sorry for myself, realizing that mom and wife are pretty much my only identity.  I have very little time to do things for myself, very few opportunities to further myself as Amy.   It's not that I resent my children, my life choices or don't find motherhood rewarding; I just need something that is entirely mine, that I do just for me and not because I have to for someone else.   Sometimes I feel like I've lost sight of who I was and who I wanted to be.  Then I have to remind myself that as a mom, it's not about me.  And as a Believer and a Follower, it's not about what I want.

At the center where I volunteer, there has been a class for lay counseling certification offered numerous times.  It's something I really, really, really want to do.  Every time the email about another session comes through though, I delete it with tears and even a little bit of bitterness.  It has not been offered at times that are convenient for me because of the children's schedules.  So when the email arrived announcing the class would be offered on a Saturday, I leapt for joy while simultaneously ordering the necessary books and materials.  I was so excited!  FINALLY, this was my chance!  I waited for the first Saturday of class with giddy anticipation.  I couldn't believe it was finally going to happen!  Then I got the email that the class had been canceled due to disinterest.  I was the only one who had signed up for the Saturday option.  "Disappointed" doesn't even begin to describe how I felt as I sat in front of my computer reading the email in tears.  Once again, my life--my own Amy life--was put on hold.

I'm learning it's all about perspective, and um, patience.  God is telling me it's not my time yet.  He either has something better in store for me, or needs me to learn a few more things before I'm ready to take this class.  I'm disappointed yes, but I know the class requires a lot of soul-searching and introspection.  With everything going on in my head, maybe God is protecting me, knowing I'm just not ready for that right now.  I plan to do the grief class our center offers, which would have meant two classes for me to concentrate on, so maybe it just would've been too much all at one time.  I don't know the reason behind all of this, but I'm doing my best to take comfort that God, as always, has a good reason behind His decision.

On Death and Dying, Living and Loving

Please bear with me.  I went to another funeral today and it's left me feeling a little lost, a little sad, a little philosophical.  I started this post several days ago.  Now I suppose I'll see where today takes me with it and try to finish it.

As I've written before, there have been numerous deaths since January which have either directly or indirectly affected us.  Last week, two more people died.  These deaths were the ninth and tenth to affect my family.  I did not know either of them well, but one gentleman's wife and the other woman's mother are incredibly good friends of mine.  While neither death was unexpected, both were blows to their loved ones.  When my friends hurt, I hurt.

For both of the deceased, death was a blessing of mercy.  That sounds like a horrible thing to say.  Both were suffering and in great pain; both were gone a long time ago; all that remained were shells of their former selves.

As a mom, the death of my dear friend's daughter has hit me the hardest.  She left behind an 8 year old daughter and a husband.  My friend began mourning the death of her daughter several weeks ago: anticipatory grief.  Now reality is settling in for her.  It hurts.  As she cried to me and I cried with her, she told me that she hopes I never have to sit at my child's bedside, watching my child die while begging God for mercy.  I hope I don't either.  I hope I never have to wrap my head around going from praying for my child's improved health to praying for my child's merciful death.  I can't imagine the pain my friend is going through.  This year I have watched friends lose their children suddenly and tragically, as well as friends who have lost their children to disease.  I'm not sure which is worse: not being able to say goodbye to our children and worrying that he/she suffered, or having the chance to say goodbye but having to watch our children suffer and waste away.  As for the woman who died, a mother like myself, I can't imagine what she must have gone through: knowing that her young daughter was watching everything unfold, knowing that she would soon have to leave this earth and her daughter behind.  I can't imagine the emotional pain she must have gone through.  An unkind reality is settling in for a now motherless 8 year old child as well.  It was awful today to see that little girl cry.  As a mom, I feel all of it right HERE.  My prayers are that God and good memories will get all of my friends and their families through these difficult times.

There were some nice things to come from today's funeral.  Fond memories, mixed in with healing laughter and tears.  The officiant was a kind, gentle, soft-spoken woman who was wonderfully loving and wise with her words toward my friend's granddaughter.  And my good friend who lost her husband the same day as our friend lost her daughter came to the funeral to support our friend, even though she had plenty of her own things to deal with this week. These two women have become quite close through the center, where we all met, and I think in some odd way, it will be an odd blessing that their loved ones went on the same day.  I think it will give them something to develop a deeper bond over, something to help them both heal, something to ease their pain a little bit.


As I dressed for the viewing of my friend's husband the other night, I half-jokingly told Shawn that if this pattern is going to keep up, I'll need to buy a few dedicated funeral outfits.  Unfortunately, my mind keeps wandering to the things that would drive me over the edge.  At this point, it wouldn't take much, just a slight push.

What have I learned from all of this?  Not to be cliche, but I've learned to live while I can and love my children to the fullest.  I'm trying harder to not take them for granted.  I've heard what loved ones have said about the deceased at the various memorials and funerals I've attended, and I think about what I want people to be able to say about me. I know what I'd like them to say, but would they be able to say in all honesty?

Enjoy life, be present in every single day.  Appreciate every gift from God.  Don't take your loved ones for granted, make sure they know just how much you love them and how much they mean to you.  Live to the fullest, laugh the loudest and love the most.

Conquering Depression

I've been inspired to share my battle with depression with you; a friend recently covered the subject in her blog and it was helpful to me.  I've tossed the idea around in my head before, but always put it off.  Why?  Is it because the topic is taboo?  Because we aren't supposed to admit in polite company when we have faults or weaknesses?  Because I'm embarrassed?  I wish I knew.  

I have to tell you, I feel very naked and vulnerable in writing this, but I'm hoping that maybe it will help someone; whether it's someone who struggles with depression, or someone who watches their loved one struggle, that's all up to God.


At any rate, here goes nothing.

Depression is a pit.  That's all there is to it: It's a deep, dark, bottomless hole.  There are days a person who has depression can't claw his/her way out no matter how much they want to.  And believe me, most of us do want to.  Being depressed is not fun.  We miss out on a lot and there are many things we no longer enjoy.  You can't tell a person to "just snap out of it," nor can you judge a person until you've walked in his/her shoes.  We can't get out of bed, don't enjoy life, can't get into a groove.  We muddle through and that's the best we can do most days.  What that person feels is legitimate and REAL.  A person with depression also feels a lot of guilt because we know our struggle is difficult for our family. They have to watch and wait until we are ready to admit our problems and ask for help, then follow through with it.  Unfortunately, sometimes the medications and side effects can make things worse.

I was first treated for depression back in high school, but I'm certain I struggled with it much longer than that before it was identified.  I've pretty much always had self-esteem issues, negative self-thinking and other such cycles.  I've always worn my heart on my sleeve and have been overly sensitive to criticism.  I remember temper tantrums over grades (which were almost always A's and B's--why weren't they all A's?), complete meltdowns over the smallest things, my inability to do things "perfectly" and routinely setting myself up for disaster and failure.  I put a lot of pressure on myself to succeed, to be better than I already was, to live up to some unrealistic standard I set for myself, then I routinely hit a wall and burned out. "See?  I told you I couldn't do it" and "Why can't I do anything right?" were my two favorite things to say.

Things got worse in college; I started seeing a different psychiatrist who spoke of hospitalization and ECT when nothing else seemed to work.  I would hide out in my apartment, seldom appearing in class and eventually quitting my job.   I engaged in some risky behaviors and unhealthy relationships.  I had started cutting in high school, but it got worse in college; I started burning myself as well (both of those behaviors continued well into the first years of marriage).  I created my own miserable little world and as much as I hated depression, I was almost content to be there.  In a way, it was safe because it was what I knew best. Eventually, I was hospitalized after making suicidal threats.  I seemed to get a little better after a week of hospitalization (sans ECT) and was able to move on a little bit.

I moved back home, starting teaching, Shawn and I got married and had Noah.  If we thought I was bad with "regular depression"--we hadn't seen anything until we saw me with post-partum depression.  I was so afraid to tell anyone how bad it was; I was determined to nurse and I was so afraid someone would take my baby away.  I remember at my follow-up with my OBGYN after Noah's birth, I just sat there staring at him in his little carrier, sobbing.  My doctor checked me out and sent me on my way, never asking why I was crying.  Somehow we survived, although I'm still not sure how.

It was around this same time I was also tagged with two more diagnoses and became even sicker.  I'd struggled with migraines the majority of the time I'd struggled with depression and I often wonder if the two were linked, or if the medications for one were exacerbating the other.  For me, my emotional, spiritual and physical problems were a vicious cycle, like a merry-go-round that was going too fast and I couldn't get off. Everything spiraled out of control.  After my two new diagnoses, my doctors started me on many other medications, informing me that between the meds and diseases, it was unlikely I'd ever be able to get pregnant or carry to term again.  At the time, I knew it was for the best.  I was in no shape to have another baby and I often wondered about my ability to even raise Noah.  I lost my teaching job because I just couldn't function.  I began seeing another psychiatrist who thought maybe because of my history of not responding well to anti-depressants and some seemingly manic episodes, that I was more Bipolar than Major Depressive.  I was so angry at God, so bitter--how could He do this to me?  To my family?  What did I do that they had to punished so badly?  Over the next several years, I became so bogged down by prescription drugs, physical and emotional pain and doctors, that I was lucky if I could tell you what day of the week it was.  Again, I had created my own little world and was content to live there.  Only this time I wasn't hurting just myself, I was hurting Noah and Shawn.  The scariest part was that I didn't care.

It was on my drive home from one such frustrating doctor's appointment that I was intent on killing myself when I got home.  I had everything all planned out: I had all my prescriptions and was just going to take all of them.  Then I'd be free, right?  This is how people who are suicidal think:  It's all about "me," it's not about what we'll be leaving behind for our loved ones to pick up after.  We convince ourselves suicide is the only way we'll ever feel better, that the struggle is no longer worth it and our loved ones will be better off without us.  WRONG.  That's not how it plays out.  If you've ever spoken to a survivor of suicide, you know they blame themselves.  They want to know why they didn't stop the person, why they didn't see the signs and pay more attention.  They will tell you they should've been there, there had to have been more they could've done.  Hindsight is always 20/20.  Often times, more suicides follow in the wake of the first one, especially among teens and younger family members.

I'm one of the fortunate ones.  Even though I'd given up on myself and God, even though I'd stopped crying out to Him, He never stopped crying out to me.  For that matter, He never stopped crying for me.  I didn't go home and try to kill myself that day.  Instead, I had this phone number stuck in my head and I had to write it down.  I know where the phone number came from and He saved my life--and my family--with it.  It took me a week to call that number.  It took me another week after that to visit the place I'd called.  There, I found love and acceptance.  I did not find judgement or presumptions.  I found God again in these wonderful people.  And now I work there too, so I can give back everything that has been given to me.

I'm no longer angry at God.  I know that He didn't do this to me or my family; He wasn't punishing us for something I did.  I know that I was the one who left Him--He was either by my side or carrying me the entire time.   I know that He got all of us through everything and is always right here with His hand on my shoulder.  He saved me--and my family--from myself.  He was our Protector, and still is.  I do still have some moments of anger and bitterness; there are things I haven't dealt with fully that have nothing to do with depression.  My struggle may have been difficult for me, but I think it was most difficult for my family.  I still have a lot of guilt from those years.  Shawn had to watch me lose myself, wonder every day when he went to work what he would come home to, if it was safe to leave me with Noah.  It was horrible for them.  I was horrible for them.

Am I cured?  I honestly don't think so; I think depression is something I will struggle with the rest of my life, unfortunately.  It might be on varying levels, but I think it will always be there.  I do know I'm healed, and for me, being cured and being healed are two different things. The past few months, I've struggled with it so much that I realized I really needed to go back on medication.  Because of all the "misadventures" I've had with medications before, I was truly scared to head down that path again.  However, I was more scared to head back into the pit of depression.  I'm grateful that I have experienced almost no side effects this time around and the first one at the lowest dose I tried work right off the bat.  It is such an amazing relief to be able to on an anti-depressant and still be able to function.

In a very odd way, my struggles with depression and physical health have been huge blessings.  I used to concentrate on what I lost because of my illnesses, but now I'm able to see that what I've gained is more than I could have ever dreamed of.  I have so much to live for and I concentrate on those good things in my life (even when my Starbucks cup is half empty....).  What is sad to me is that I had all of this to live for before, but I was too self-absorbed to see it; I missed out on a lot.  I smile more and laugh more.  I've built a good support system for myself and I have people who aren't afraid to tell me when things might be getting bad and I need to do something about it.  I'm not afraid of the stigma anymore, so I talk about it if things get bad.  I have a better understanding of life and a closer walk with God.  I've since been able to use all of this as a learning experience and a chance to grow closer to my family and God.  I've also frequently been given the chance to use my struggles as a teaching experience for others who want to help people like me, as well as others who also struggle and their families who struggle with them.

Depression is part of my life journey.  It's part of what makes me Amy.  From there, it's up to me to either allow it to be a stumbling block or use it as a blessing.

Good News to Report

Finally, something exciting and good to fill my blog with!  :)

We were sitting around the kitchen table on Sunday afternoon with a friend and her sons while Shawn grilled dinner when the phone rang.  Caller ID said it was a Baltimore, MD number.  Huh?  I asked Shawn if it could've been one of his co-workers.  He said he didn't think so, so I answered the phone (Shawn is on the phone so much at work that he avoids it at all costs at home).

"Hello, this is the Myositis Clinic at Johns Hopkins.  May I speak to Amy Furr?"  What?!

The woman on the other end was a patient care coordinator, calling to make an appointment for me!  After reviewing everything my rheumatologist and neurologist had sent in, they decided to see me!  Woo Hoo!

My appointment to see the doctor is in October, but I need to have numerous tests, including another muscle biopsy, before then.  I am waiting to hear when those are scheduled.

I can't tell you what a relief this is for me and my family.  Just being able to get an appointment is a huge answer to prayers for certain.  Knowing that if the Mysositis Clinic doesn't find what they are looking for, they will refer me to their rheumatology and/or neurology department(s) is another huge relief: I won't be left swinging in the wind and either way, hopefully someone will be able to give me some
answers.

Since receiving this news, several friends have had a good laugh at my "expense:"  I'm messed up and confusing enough to warrant a visit with the real specialists!

Thank you, Jesus!

House Guests

We had a house guest today--of the four-legged variety.  Bella has stayed with us before and once we all got used to each other, she made herself quite comfortable on Noah's bed for the duration of her stay.  She needed someone to stay with today, so her mom made use of Noah's new pet care service ("Man's Best Friends Pet Care").  We went over and picked Bella up, then brought her back to our house for a playdate with Gretta and the boys.

Avery and I went off to do errands of our own while Noah and Shawn stayed home with the dogs.  When we got home, I found her resting comfortably on Noah's bed.  Once we got Avery in the house, Bella came out to check him out, remembering quickly and easily how to work the "automatic feeder" (Avery), then making herself busy inspecting all the grocery bags.  Once I had everything put away, I realized I was missing a few things.  I went through the receipt to make sure I'd actually paid for the items (and wasn't just losing my mind....  AGAIN), then told Shawn I'd have to call the store and hope they'd work with me; I'd paid for the items, but still couldn't find them.  We searched the car, the garage, the fridge in the garage--nothing.  I turned to follow the boys out the back door and tripped over the box of bunny snacks I was missing.  Huh?  Then I spied a grocery bag...  with the rest of the missing groceries in it.  WHAT ON EARTH?!  And then I saw Bella, doing her best to blend in with the furniture.

I laughed as I told my friend about her dog burglar.  Nothing had been eaten or chewed, although there were a few teeth marks in the bunny snack box.  It's amusing to me because we're not used to this kind of dog behavior.  Gretta is a canine vacuum cleaner, but only if the food is offered to her or left unattended.  She doesn't take food from Avery's hands, dig through the trash or sneak off with grocery bags full of food.  My friend was a bit horrified with her dog's behavior, but we had a good laugh about it.  No one was hurt, nothing was eaten and in the end, I found all the groceries I thought I was missing before I called the grocery store!

My Joy and My Heart

My greatest reward will be in Heaven, but my earthly rewards are right here.  Their names are Avery and Noah.  They are anything but perfect, but they are amazing just the same.  These two little boys bring great joy and happiness to my heart, as well as purpose to my life.  And on days like today, I need them; I need my children.  I need to be as close to them as possible.  I need to see their good health and their happiness, for which I am grateful.  I need to see their smiles and hear their laughter.  I need to feel their hands in mine and enjoy having their arms being wrapped around my waist and my leg.  I need to revel in Avery running to me while happily shrieking, "MOMMMMEEEEE!", arms outstretched for me to swoop him up and swing him around.  I need to hold them a little longer and a little tighter.  On days like to day, I need to delight in my children, their love and everything they bless me with, remembering they are the biggest gifts I will ever receive.

Thank you, Jesus.  I love these two beautiful boys.


 " Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change."  James 1:17