Being a Praying Mom

Nothing makes a Christian parent a more fervent prayer warrior than our children.  I don't know how I would raise my children without God to turn to, without being able to turn to prayer, without having friends who will back up those prayers with prayers of their own.  There is such hope and comfort in all of that.  I cannot do this without God.  One of the points our pastor makes is that God hears the prayers of a parent over the prayers of anyone else praying over that child.  There is power in those words.

I've always prayed over my children's hearts, but it's always been in the abstract.  "Lord, create in them clean, pure hearts," "Give them hearts for You, make them dangerous for You," "Give them servants' hearts, Lord."  You get the idea.  Having a strong, loving heart is part of being a Christian.

The past three weeks have changed that in a mighty way.  I have begged God to heal my child's heart.   I have prayed God will make my child's heart strong in an entirely different way.  I have prayed for the physical, rather than the abstract.  I have prayed fervently, I have prayed constantly.  I have begged, pleaded and bargained.  Just make my child better, PLEASE.

God heard my prayers, and the prayers of others.  And I am truly overwhelmed.

Baby E and I had our follow up echocardiogram yesterday morning.  We received amazing news!  While E's heart is still skipping, it is not persistent or consistent like it was before.  At our first appointment, he had an every-three-beats skip.  Yesterday, it was every 10-12 beats, but it wasn't nearly as consistent or noticeable.  The doctor does think he has PACs as opposed to the originally thought PVCs (upper chambers vs. lower), but there still aren't any answers or reasons for it.  He will still need an EKG before being discharged from the hospital, and as long as they don't find a reason to keep him, we will see our cardiologist for a follow up EKG and another echo.  We will go from there, based on the findings then.

Expect miracles.  God hears you.

Remembering the Days I Prayed for What I Have Now

Infertility sucks.  That's the only way to put it. Everywhere you go, you start to feel suffocated by all the pregnant moms and new babies. Social media is even worse: the announcements and photos feel like a constant barrage.  You avoid social situations, knowing the inevitable, "When are you going to start having kids" or "When are you going to have the next one" questions will arise.  You get tired of answering those questions, then you tire of dodging them.  There are the people who, believing they are well meaning, offer suggestions and opinions for getting pregnant, adopting, staying pregnant, etc, then offer anecdotes, using their own children as examples for why you should be glad you aren't a parent.  And no, grabbing our hands and pressing them against your pregnant belly, or shoving your newborn into our arms, will not make things better.  It feels as though everyone is pregnant but you. There are the questions that go unanswered, the longing for a child to hold, or for peace over empty arms, a heart that will always feel emptier than it should. The extra bedroom that should be a nursery, the car that is suddenly too big.  Prayers that feel like they're bouncing off deaf ears, going unanswered.  For some, there is the pain of miscarriage, for others, the pain of never having conceived at all.  For all of us, there is the pain of grief.  The big "WHY?" that just can't be answered.  It's frustrating, it's maddening.  It can either turn a couple toward God, or make them run screaming from Him.

I hate it.  I hated it for us, I hate it for friends, acquaintances and strangers.  I still want to scream against what I view as the unfairness of it all.  I see couples who would make spectacular parents, and I read articles about people who are so undeserving.  I know it's not my call to make, but after years of our own frustration, I do judge. Sometimes it's just so difficult not to.  Kids lost in the system or those victims who never make it to the system, longing for families, deserving more than they have.  Couples lost in the mire and muck, longing for those kids.

What I have now is, I suppose, a form of survivor's guilt.  Every picture, every blog post, every conversation--I worry that maybe I'm rubbing it in a bit. I don't know that Shawn and I did anything differently than the other couples we know.  We had tests, I took medication. We prayed, we pined, we screamed at God and tried bargaining with Him. We praised Him for the blessings we do have, we tried to find peace when it wasn't happening. We questioned God time and time again.  We rejoiced and celebrated and praised God when we did finally conceive.  We've cried, we've been angry, we've been bitter.  We've smiled and felt full of love for the child(ren) God did give us. We've been able to fill those holes in our hearts with more children.  I don't have the answers.  I don't know why.  I try not to think about it, I just want to be grateful.

Every now and then something happens that gets me thinking about this more.  Obviously, today is one of those days.  When I see it, my heart aches anew for these friends.  I pray they will be able to experience the joy we have.  I desperately want that for them.  I want peace for their hearts, minds and souls.

In the meantime, this is my promise, not just to these couples, but to my children: I will never take these gifts for granted.  I have been granted a chance, I've been entrusted with these children.  They will frustrate me, make me cry and yell, anger me, and gray the hairs I don't pull out while raising them--but I will love them.  I will cherish them. I will be worthy of them. I will have fun with them, I will laugh with them, and I will find joy in them.  I will raise them to the best of my ability, and give them everything they deserve.  I will make sure they know what love is, and that they have it unconditionally.  They are not chores or hassles, they are my children.  I will remember the process that got us here.  And on the tough days, I will remember, I prayed for this.  This is my blessing.

Gray Hairs

We had to see a pediatric cardiologist today.  Two weeks ago, the OB I saw that day dismissed E's irregular heartbeat as an anomaly.  We heard it again yesterday, so off we went to a specialist today for an echocardiogram.  This has been a nerve-wracking 24 hours for us.

When I was talking to E this morning, I remarked that he is younger than his brothers were when they saw their first specialists.  I told Shawn this really isn't an accolade I want to encourage, but here we are.  Sorry, I need to joke, otherwise I will revert back to puddle form.

Hearing my unborn child's heart skip and stop is one of the scariest things I've ever heard as a mom.  Seeing it today on the sonogram screen was even scarier.

We had an amazing doctor who was incredibly thorough, and spent more than the originally allotted hour with us.  She did the sonogram herself, which was reassuring.  She was able to talk with us about what she was seeing, and she knew what she needed, and wanted, to look for.  Rather than waiting for it all to be done by a sonographer, printed out, and read by the doctor, we were able to have it all there at once.  We were able to ask questions and have everything clarified right then and there.  Something I found even more reassuring is that she herself is also pregnant.  I felt she was able to relate to us and what we are going through as expectant parents.  She was also kind and warm, which is something I personally relate to better in a doctor.  She asked his name, and referred to him by it while nudging him around for better views.  It was obvious that he is a person with a name to her, already a patient of hers to be taken care of.  If she had referred to E as a fetus, I most likely would've requested another doctor.

The good news is E's heart is fine structurally.  There isn't any fluid around his heart, in his lungs, or anywhere else it shouldn't be.  He is still active (giving the doctor trouble the entire time she tried to look him over, rolling, kicking the transducer, and proudly displaying his boy parts), and not showing any signs of stress or distress.  His heart rate is at a good rate, and there aren't any visible reasons for the arrhythmia.  It is also good news that this did not show up sooner; the later in pregnancy it presents itself, the less indicative it is of a major problem.  Our doctor told us this isn't too unusual, often goes away on its own, and often there are no clear answers as to the why and how. As of right now, we are cleared to go full term (no reason to hurry him), deliver at our hospital (currently no reason to whisk him away to a NICU), and good to go with a vaginal delivery.  If my OB decides on an induction due to my L&D history, that should also be okay.  There isn't anything we can, or should, be doing differently right now.

The scary news is--there's no visible reason for the arrhythmia.  It's very distinct, and very consistent, every three heartbeats.  The problem appears to be with the lower two chambers of his heart, as he is having PVCs; again though, there is no structural abnormality there, his heart is 'merely' misfiring.  We will return next week for another echo, just to be sure everything is still the same as it is this week before we start solidifying delivery 'plans' (after Avery, I use that word loosely) with my OB. Whether I need to return for another one before delivery is still up in the air.  E will need an EKG at the hospital when he's born, and he will have to see his cardiologist once we're home from the hospital.  We will go from there.

In all of this, I'm grateful.  There are no structural abnormalities.  Technically, he's fine.  According to our doctor (I'm doing my best to stay away from Google), this is something he will most likely outgrow.  It's scary as hell, but God is with us.  He formed E and He brought him to us, answering our prayers--He will get us through this.  God has provided not just His reassurance, but a group of amazing friends and prayer warriors who have stood with us in this.  E is not alone, and neither are we.

Parenthood Makes Me Stupid

I had a parenting moment today that made me question my sanity.  Seriously, I looked over my shoulder because I was certain I heard Ozzy Osbourne cackling and yelling "ALLLL ABOARD!"  I just wanted to be sure that was only in my head, and not really him standing behind me.  For the record, it was just the voices in my head....

The boys were outside playing when I heard Avery screaming some very not nice things.  He was calling someone stupid, telling the person they were dumb, and hurling other assorted insults.  I waited a few minutes for Noah to start yelling back, and when he didn't, I went outside to investigate.  Avery was yelling at his 'students.'  He was pretending to be a teacher, and, as he put it, his students were just stupid. I reprimanded him, saying no teacher speaks to his students that way; his teacher certainly doesn't speak to him that way, Shawn and I certainly don't speak to him like that.  It is unacceptable to speak to anyone in such ways.

Then I said it.  I heard the words as they were exiting my mouth, and could not stop them.

"Apologize to your students, now."

And I got the she's lost her mind look.  "Mom, they aren't real, you know."

Ohhhh boy.  "Yes, I know.  But, real or not, we do not speak to people that way.  Apologize NOW."

He did.  While eyeing me to be sure I didn't sprout wings and shoot fire out of my eyeballs, Avery apologized to his imaginary students.

Moral of the story: Don't be a jerk to anyone, even if they're imaginary.

Third Trimester Strikes Back

Raise your hand if the word NEUROTIC is written in big, bold, bright red letters at the top of your OB chart!!!

*raises hand*

Pretty sure my doctors are ready to vote me Most Neurotic Patient in their office...  And really, they're wondering why, this is my third child, right?  I'm not exactly new at this.

Ugh.  I've slowed down big time.  If you've seen Big Hero 6, you understand the joke behind my children calling me Baymax, and walking behind me saying "I am not fast." Stinkers.  They're lucky they're cute!  But really--this mama is TIRED.  My people are subsisting on frozen pizzas and chicken nuggets.  *gasp*  I'm quite certain the leg cramps and reflux are going to kill me....  I've promised that if E arrives on May 4th (May the Fourth be with you....) and is as hairy as the wives' tales say he will be according to my heartburn and reflux, I'm changing his name to Chewbacca.  At least the nausea and vomiting have finally subsided...  Then there's the insomnia.  Oh, and did I mention they suspect a broken tailbone and torn ligaments?  Yup.  Please don't ask me how I managed that one, because I don't even know!  Avery's biggest concern (besides his baby brother having enough toys) is my belly button--will I need a new one like he did?

I have to joke because otherwise I would be a puddle.  Baby E gave us a good scare last week, and while I'm positive my doctor was not nearly as worried as I was, he did his best to pat me on the head before he sent me on my way, declaring it all acceptable.  E had been way too quiet for about two days, and I have been having regular contractions.  He's an incredibly active baby, so the quiet scared me.  Hooked up to monitors, watching the contractions as they came across the printout, listening to his heartbeat as it would slow suddenly and then actually stop (something my doctor referred to as an 'anomaly'), I prayed.  I talked with Shawn, I talked with my best friends, and we all prayed.  Both friends were ready to jump into action should I be sent on to the hospital, and all of us willed this little boy to stay where he belongs until it's time.  In the end, my doctor declared my uterus "extremely irritable" and said there was definite activity, but sent me home to rest, with instructions to head to the hospital if they increased or changed in nature.  A quick internal exam was done to put me further at ease, and all was declared within acceptable limits.  So home I went...  To rest.... And to continue panicking and praying.

Fortunately, E started to move a little more, and finally, at 3 am, woke up me up for his full playtime activities.  Whew.  He carried on the entire rest of the day, making up for lost time, I'm sure.  And yes, I cried with relief.

No more scares since then, thank goodness. Contractions are still a daily thing, but that just seems to be par for the course, as long as they don't become serious. That's not to say they aren't obnoxious and painful...  I'm trying to take it easier, with 8 weeks left on the calendar, we want to make it as close to that as possible.  I'm not sure we'll make it, but 6 weeks are better than 3 or 4.

Think about it though, when you've prayed for so long for something, and you finally receive it, you're going to take care of it, right?  You might panic a little when you think something is off.  You might worry a little more than usual.  My doctors can call me neurotic, but I'm going with protective.

Even with all of that, I will honestly tell you nothing about this pregnancy has been horrible.  I continue to be grateful for this experience, and I'm reveling it.  I am cherishing these moments.  If I could be pregnant just a little bit longer...  I love this little boy.  I know his habits and his movements.  I celebrate a foot in the ribs, a backflip and a good old-fashioned head-butt.  There's the way he seems to tickle my belly button from the inside, and the time I saw a leg pressed up against my abdomen, clear as day.  I know he's going to get the hiccups each time I eat.  I love the way Avery settles his hands on my belly, greeting his brother with a kiss before he talks to me.  I love when Noah wants to snuggle in, trying to catch some movement, and when Shawn settles his head on my belly at night for a boxing match with our youngest.  E already knows our voices, and he is so loved.  I'm so grateful for him, and for this opportunity.  I realize there are women out there who would sell their souls for this chance I have, and it's something I have not taken for granted.  I begged, prayed, pleaded, bargained, and came close to selling my own soul for this child, so I will continue to take this all in stride, and just be happy.  I wouldn't change this for anything.

Domestic Violence

While this is not my story to tell, when I need to get things out, I write.  So, here goes.

*written/posted with permission*

Eighteen years ago today, my husband lost his mother to domestic violence.  At the age of 19, less than 3 weeks before his 20th birthday, he, and his older brothers, became orphans.  They endured a nightmare that no child, adult or minor, should have to go through.

I'm here to tell you that eighteen years later, it still impacts our lives.  Domestic violence has many victims.  In this case, it's affected a second generation already.  My mother in law missed out on three weddings, and did not get to know two of her daughters in law.  I was the lucky one, having known her before her death, but she did not know we married. There are stories about our husbands and their childhoods that my sisters in law and I will never know.  There are heartaches and triumphs, milestones and moments, her sons will never get to share with her.  My mother in law has numerous grandchildren, and even step-great-grandchildren, who do not know her, who will never sit in her lap, or hear her laughter.

She was a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a sister, a daughter.  In one fell swoop, all of that was taken from her family.

Shawn and I do our best to keep her memory alive for our children.  It's been hard for him, and as his wife, it's been hard to watch him go through this process.  It's not something one automatically gets over, or even something that gets easier as time goes on.  He still misses her deeply, and on some level, I believe our children do as well.  It's only recently that he is able to speak out against domestic violence, speaking about his mother's death, and using it as a platform for good.

Some food for thought:

What is Domestic Violence?

•   Domestic Violence is a pattern of behavior used to establish power and control over another person through fear and intimidation, often including the threat or use of violence.

Other terms for domestic violence include intimate partner violence, battering, relationship abuse, spousal abuse, or family violence.

Domestic Violence in America: General Statistics and Facts

•   Women ages 20 to 24 are at greatest risk of becoming victims of domestic violence.

•   More than 4 million women experience physical assault and rape by their partners.

1 in 3 female homicide victims are murdered by their current or former partner every year.

What are the Effects of Domestic Violence on Children?

•   More than 3 million children witness domestic violence in their homes every year.

•   Children who live in homes where there is domestic violence also suffer abuse or neglect at high rates (30% to 60%).

•   Children exposed to domestic violence at home are more likely to have health problems, including becoming sick more often, having frequent headaches or stomachaches, and being more tired and lethargic.

Children are more likely to intervene when they witness severe violence against a parent – which can place a child at great risk for injury or even death

(Taken from:  http://www.safehorizon.org/page/domestic-violence-statistics--facts-52.html)

If you, or someone you know, is suffering at the hands of another, I urge you to please seek help.  Don't let it end like this.  You deserve a happy, healthy life--please don't allow anyone else to tell you differently.  There is help available.  There is someone who needs you, who loves you, who does not want to see you go through this.  You are not alone.

National Domestic Violence Hotline:  1-800-799-7233

Ugh (Another Diagnostic Journey)

I really don't know what to call this one.  It's a bit of mommy-moaning, if you want the truth.  A little bit of self pity thrown in with some "buck up, Sunshine, God's got this."  So, UGH, it is.

We are having Avery evaluated for ADHD/ADD.  I hate this process.  Hate is a strong word, but it's the word I'm sticking with.  At our first appointment, I realized it was 5 years to the day when we received Noah's diagnosis, and that was just plain hard for me.  Sitting in the waiting room while my five year did his favorite thing (talked about himself) with the psychologist, I cried.  I'm so grateful for the dear friends who got me through that moment!

Even though I know we're doing the right thing, there's a lot of second guessing, and a lot of guilt.  Am I prepared for a diagnosis other than the one I'm expecting?  Am I wrong--what if this is just who he is, and I'm not understanding my child well enough?  Am I overreacting?  I feel the judgement--my own, really--two kids with diagnoses, geez Amy, can't you get it together?  Maybe it's not them, it's me and my extreme lack of parenting skills.  I don't like the feelings of "WHY MY CHILD" either.  This is not what I want for my children, I know they won't have charmed lives, but why is this the struggle they've been given?  Which trails into the realm of "Get over it, Amy, there are kids who struggle with a lot worse."

With Noah, there was so much parental denial, and it really did hurt him.  I don't know if I will ever fully forgive myself for how long it took us to secure help for him.  This time, determined to not delay in the help my child needs, I've started the process sooner than recommended.  Why?  Ohhh, a variety of reasons, and yes, I suppose subconsciously I'm trying to make up for the harm I caused Noah.

I hate the forms.  I know they need this information in order to make the proper diagnosis, but geez, I really feel as though I'm just bashing my son.  When I filled out these forms for Noah, I felt as though they weren't getting the full picture.  The forms didn't ask what I loved about him, what was great about him, what his strengths were.  I ended up making up my own form (and I wonder why my children can't follow rules) because I wanted the doctors to know just how great Noah is, not just what his weaknesses were.  It was something I really struggled with.  There is more to my children than just their difficulties and struggles.

The forms are a bit different this time, as we're using a different facility, and we're also not having to consider ASD as part of the diagnostic process.  I'm grateful that this time, there is a good-sized space for me to address Avery's strengths, the things I love about him, and what I feel he excels at.  I do feel as though they will get the whole picture this time.

We also aren't sure how to explain any of this to Avery. So far, we've approached it from the "we're just going to go play some games and talk to some people who want to know more about you" angle. Noah was very self aware, knew he was different, and was relieved when we received his diagnosis: "There's nothing wrong with me, my brain just works differently." Noah's self esteem suffered greatly in the time before his diagnoses.  Avery is, well, he's a special kind of self assured!  Self esteem is not an issue with this child--so I worry, when it comes time to explain why he's getting a bit more help, how will it affect him?  Will it bother him, will he suddenly think something is wrong with him, will he be harder on himself because he thinks we think there's something wrong with him?   I'm seriously praying for divine intervention here, because I really just don't know how to handle it this time.

In the end, I know God has got this.  I've hit a revelatory period, if you will, with Noah--as I watch him embrace everything that is himself, I realize that God wrote his story a long time ago.  He's had Noah this entire time, having already mapped out, and traveled, Noah's journey Himself.  This is who, and how, God intended him to be.  And, the same goes for Avery.  Got has got my child's back--our child's back.  He already knows how this is going to go, and someway, somehow, He will use this in Avery's life.  It will become part of his testimony, part of his story, and something we'll get through with God's help.

A Horse Named Justin

When Noah was diagnosed with Aspergers, and all that went with it, we tried many therapies.  We invested a lot of money (which we would do again in a heartbeat), time and effort in them.  Nothing stuck though.  Noah had to be a willing participant, and at the time, he just wasn't quite there.  It was frustrating for all of us, and we saw almost no improvement in Noah.

Enter therapy horseback riding.

At my wit's end one day, I emailed a friend from church in tears.  Knowing she rode, I asked if she knew of any place local that participated in horse therapy.  I had done some research on it, and it was something I wanted to try for Noah.  As it happened, she didn't just know of such a place, but she was a therapist there!

Having grown up where horses served two purposes--farm work, or pleasure riding for the 'social elite,' my husband balked at the expense.  We were not horse people.  We could not afford to be horse people.  We finally agreed to give it a try, and Shawn wound up having to take Noah to his first lesson.  I got the call soon after, as we headed home from different destinations: "Honey, this was more than worth it.  I don't know how we'll manage, but we'll figure it out."  One lesson with Molly had convinced my husband that this was the answer we'd been searching for.  We may not have been horse people, but we were certainly this-is-the-best-thing-to-happen-for-our-son people.

Within weeks, we saw improvements in Noah, from his confidence level and general mood, to his comprehension and problem solving skills, that we hadn't seen in months of other combined therapies.  Noah was noticeably calmer for several hours after his lessons, and eventually, those hours turned into days at a time.  There was definitely a difference between the weeks he rode, and the weeks he didn't.  Noah was just a different boy entirely when atop a horse.  I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I will always be to the instructors, and especially, the horses.  This farm, these horses, these instructors--were all answers to many prayers.

Over time, Noah's instructors began seeing things in him that indicated he would be good at ground work.  They saw reason to give him more responsibility, and to challenge him. He began riding Justin, and only flourished more.  He worked with Justin weekly, both riding, and on the ground. It was said around the farm that while Justin did have other riders, the only two he really seemed to enjoy being with were Noah and another gentleman. They had a connection, something just clicked between the two of them.  Noah's instructors tried him on other horses, but he just didn't have the connection with them.  He could ride them, make them do what he wanted them to do, but it wasn't the seemingly telepathic connection that he and Justin shared.

Noah rode Justin for nearly three years.  When Noah would go out to the fields to bring him in, I could hear Justin whinny for him, eager to see his boy.  He would greet Noah so happily, just excited to see him.  When Noah's dog died, Justin was there for him in the weeks that followed.  With life's ups and downs, Justin was a constant.  I teased Noah that they were meant for each other, both of them being obstinate teenage boys.  One afternoon I had the chance to hug Justin; I remember burying my face in his mane, tears in my eyes, just thanking him and telling him how grateful I would always be to him.

This weekend, we had to say goodbye to our dear friend, companion and therapist.  Two weeks ago, Justin became very sick, and did not get better.  Justin died this weekend, surrounded by the instructors who love him just as much as we do.  He is now free of pain, made whole, running wild and free.  I like to think he is busy doing what he did best here on Earth, entertaining children, and taking it easy in his spare time.  My heart is broken--for us, for my child, for the other riders and their families, for his caretakers and instructors.  We have begun the process of mourning, our grief deep and profound.  I worry that riding will never be the same for Noah, but I'm proud of him for wanting to continue.  Justin was more than just a horse.

Justin was the therapy center's horse, but I will always think of him with Noah, as "our" horse.  A boy and his horse, a horse and his boy.  I will always be grateful, and I will always love that horse.  Justin knew his job, and he took it seriously.

Thank you Justin.  We love you, we always will, and we miss you.  Thank you for everything.  Run free, dear boy.