She will only see the baby

The first time I stepped into the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit I was bombarded with sound.  Sound from everywhere!  Monitors going off, ventilators breathing for babies, nurses and doctors talking and moving.  And tears.  Not crying, just silent terrified tears.  I am amazed that silence can sometimes be the loudest sound in the room.  My first day I looked into the eyes of another mother standing beside the plastic box that held her baby.  Her silent tears held every one of those sounds.  Her child would die 7 months later, having only left the hospital to die at home.  Her tears are still the sound in my heart when I remember.

Then the light. The babies actually had to improve enough to go into an isolette.  They stayed on the open table until they were stable enough for the little boxes, then, they covered their isolettes with blankets to block some of the light.  Can you imagine growing in lights and sounds when you should have been warm and dark in your momma?  I felt assaulted by everything going on.  So much information, such tiny babies, such real fear. 

I also felt so sorry that my girls had to live that way.  I felt guilty that I couldn't do better for them.  I hated that my body didn't hold them and I ached because my arms couldn't hold them.  They had to go through it alone.  I wanted to somehow take it for them, but I couldn't.  I watched as they were stuck, poked, scanned, medicated, breathed for, and felt helpless.  I willed them to live and would have done anything to make that happen.  It was a selfish desire to want that at any cost, because it cost them everything. 

There is a weight in that unit.  So many parents and babies, afraid and sick.  There is an unspoken terror of death.  Losing a child is so unnatural.  There is no way to prepare for it.  It felt completely wrong, like a sin to even think of the possibility, but it was always there with us.  Every night we would leave the hospital to sleep and dread that middle of the night call saying something was wrong.  We began to look for the parents and babies in the morning to see who was still there.

The social worker asked us early on about bringing Hannah to see the girls.  I couldn't imagine it.  I felt so overwhelmed in there, I thought it would terrify Hannah to see her sisters that way.  The social worker told us not to worry and then said something I will never forget: "Trust me, she will only see the babies.  Children don't see the tubes and wires, they see the baby because they are looking for a baby." 

Hannah walked into the nursery and saw the baby.  She had no expectations of perfect.  She had no idea that every baby wasn't born that way.  She hadn't dreamed them and felt them move inside of her.  She didn't know the feeling of overwhelming sorrow for all they were going through.  She could walk in and be genuinely excited because she was a big sister.  Children are amazing.  I wanted that childlike heart too.  I wanted to see my babies, just them.  It was hard for me to do that, but a few times I think I did.  This is a picture of Emily the first time I saw her whole face.  She had been extubated (breathing tube removed) for just a few minutes and I snapped a quick picture. 

I guess the point isn't seeing them when the tubes are removed, but being able to see past all of that.  Being able to look at that mess of tangled wires and sounds forcing life into them and seeing a child.  A real living breathing human with a future and filled with potential and love.  I wonder if God looks down at me like that.  Does he see the tubes and tangles I make in life?  Does he look at me and see my mistakes and insecurities; the artificial things I reach for to force life into myself?  I know he deals with that mess I am, but I also believe he looks past all of that and sees his child.

As I was writing this today, I could feel God asking "You know I see you, but how do you see me?  Do you see me as complicated and confusing?  Do you wonder about my answers and my care?"

Wow.  Can I look past all of the sorrow of the world, the insecurities in myself, the necessity of provision and see his face?  Do I see everything that complicates that relationship with him, or I can I come to him with a childlike innocence; without expectation and the weight of loss and regret and see a king who created me?  His arms ache to hold me, just as I ached to hold my girls.  To comfort as I desired to comfort.  That and immeasurably more.  Can you trust me Andrea?  Can you allow me to work in you that which is pleasing to me?   Can you trust your girls to me? 

That is the desire of my heart.  To trust him completely.  To walk with Jesus daily, to fill with his word.  Looking at that new terrified mommy up there gently touching her sick baby, I can't believe the person he has molded today.  Faith is a choice I have to make every single day, it is a verb--an action that requires moving forward when I want to stand still.  Most of all, it is reaching up and taking his hand, or some days crawling into his lap and allowing the Prince of Peace, the Living Water to fill in the holes of a sometimes very painful life.

The Big Day

I have been trying to write about one of the most important days of my life for more than a week now.  One would think the memory of such a monumental, life changing day would be easily filled with words and descriptions of everything that was going on. 

I had hoped to create a picture of waking up knowing that something was very wrong; of how the doctors started a trial of a different contraction medication only a few short hours before the girls would be born to see if it was possible for me to go home.  I wanted you to hear the whisper in my consciousness of God telling me that this was it.  The day I could never turn back from.  I thought it would help to explain how awful I felt not being allowed to stand up and shower or wash my hair in almost two weeks.  I had hoped you could have experienced the profound moment when I knew my hair was the last thing I would think of.   I wanted you to be there as I was bleeding to death, flying down the hall on my hospital bed while a nurse rode with me pulling my rings off.  I wanted you to feel what it was like not knowing if Jeff would make it; if any of us would make it. 

I am surprised to find that I can't have you there with me.  I'm shocked to know I can barely go back there myself.  My babies were born 3 months before they were due and they nearly died that day.  I almost died that day.  In some ways I think we did die, and in that exact moment we were also born.  All of us to a new life and purpose, to a foreign land.

Jeff did make it to the hospital that day only to find my room empty. He had that awful moment of not knowing if the babies and I were okay. Someone brought him to me just as they were starting my C-Section. As the girls were being born, Jeff looked at them and started laughing and saying "they're huge, they are so big".  I'm sure you can imagine the eyes above those masks in the O.R. looking at each other like "What??"  They were tiny compared to full term babies, but he had expected little palm of your hand babies. They cried when we weren't sure we would hear any sounds. They were born 2 minutes apart. Emily first weighing 2 lb 12 oz and then Abby weighing 2 lb. 11.87 oz. They were stabilized and sent to the NICU.  Later I would learn that preterm babies often do well for the first few minutes of life and then need help. That was the last typical thing my girls did.

Looking back, I can see how awesome Jeff's perspective was, even though at the time I thought he was a nut. Our children were the smallest babies born that day. They were sick and unable to survive on their own. That didn't matter to him, what he had expected was so much worse than what he saw. That was maybe one of our first days of actively seeking the good, when everything seemed so bad. His natural inclination to look for the positive in a situation helped me form that attitude myself, even from the first minute of my new life.

These are pictures the hospital took of my girls after they were stabilized. They take them so parents have a picture of their child alive. I couldn't see the girls for myself yet. My daughters could have easily died before I ever laid eyes on them.  I think these pictures look horrible.  I can't tell you how thankful I am that they aren't the only pictures I have. I have had the opportunity to take so many more, but these were the first.

Emily Claire

Abigail Grace

So as I look back to 12 years ago, it has been an unbelievable journey.  How could I have known looking at those pictures then, what a complicated road we would travel?  My heart has broken so many times over those little girls, so frail and small.  How grateful I am that God has eagerly taken every shattered piece of my heart as I learned to pick them up and hand them to him one by one.  He put them back together again, not the same, but in a pattern that he can use in a way I could have never dreamed. 

There's something about a that name...

Emily Claire and Jack Robert.  They were the twins I was sure I was having.  Emily and Jack playing on their plastic Alligator See-Saw.  Aren't they cute? 

Not quite.  So Jack is a girl.  A girl we hadn't even thought of a name for.

I was on labor and delivery being admitted to the hospital when I began to have serious bleeding.  All of the sudden, everything changed.  Doctors and nurses were running in and out of my room, the monitors were going off.  I began having huge contractions and I finally realized at that moment that the babies might actually be born that day.

I was started on I.V. Magnesium for contractions, fluids for blood loss, and given steroids to develop the babies' lungs.  They were doing everything they could to keep them in a few more days.  It was terrifying.  Twelve years ago, about 1/2 of the babies born at 26 weeks survived.  I knew that I could lose one or both of them.  As the day wore on, my contractions settled and the babies seemed to be maintaining their heart rates.  After we made it through that first day, it became a waiting game.

I was placed on complete bed rest.  There are no words to describe how much I hated not being able to get up.  I couldn't wash my hair or go to the bathroom.  I could only sit up for meals.  Everything started to ache after a few days.  My stomach was tender from the monitors constantly pressing into it; I had I.V.'s and that awful steroid injection.  Man, that thing hurt.  The magnesium makes you feel...I'm not sure what the word is, maybe disconnected.  It causes hot flashes and muscle weakness.  I found myself sitting for hours watching the monitors, exhausted from doing nothing.  I had a few visitors, but we were fairly new to the area and didn't know many people. 

The hardest part of the 10 days all of those treatments bought us were the days Hannah came to visit. I had never been away from her for more than a day or two. I missed her so much, and even though I was doing what I needed to do for the babies, being away from her was terrible. I wasn't much of a crier, except when she left my hospital room in the evenings, I couldn't help it. We were being very brave, but it wore on us all.

I thought of the babies a lot as we waited.  We had named Emily weeks before, but we couldn't think of a name for Baby B.  I felt horribly guilty.  I felt bonded to Emily calling her by name.  She seemed so real to me.  Baby B felt real too, but not in the same way.  She needed a name.  Jeff came to the hospital one night after work for a quick visit, I think there was a playoff game on (this is January), and he wanted to go watch it.  I started to cry about the baby not having a name.  I thought she would die with no name.  It was the saddest thing I could think of.  She could be born and die as Baby B.  It sounded like Jane Doe to me. 

So, he stayed and we hashed out names.  I'm sure it went much faster because that game was on.  We had discussed Abigail before and I didn't like it.  Somehow that night it seemed right.  **Cheesy Moment Alert**  I loved Little House on the Prairie.  There was an episode when Caroline wanted a boy, but had a girl and Laura says "we were all truly blessed by the coming of baby Grace".  I had secretly wanted a baby Grace from then on.  So Abigail Grace came to be that night.  Jeff left to watch his game and I wrapped my arms around my belly and called my girls by name as I promised Emily Claire and Abigail Grace that I would do everything I could to keep them safe. 

Do you know that the concordance in my bible offers eighty nine references to the word "name"?   Eighty nine times, someone's name was called, changed, or written in the book of life.  God even named his own son (can you see God pouring over baby names....no, I don't think so)  He was to be and is Jesus. There's something about that name.  Master, Savior, Counselor, Friend, Lord, King, Exalted One, Holy, Son of God, Redeemer, The Christ.  Calling on His name saves us from sin, guides and directs us.  We pray in his name; ask in his name.  That one word and all it represents brings us before the throne of God.  Jesus.  It's really beyond me how very important that name is.

Names are important to God and to each other.  My babies needed names because it was then that I knew them.  I wrote them when they were born and it was official, unchanging.  Those are the names that are written in the book of life.  They are the names that helped me to say welcome to those little girls, and if I needed to, I would have called them by name to say good-bye.  I have an awesome God that called me by name too, because it was then that I knew him. 

John 10:3, 14-15
The watchman opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice.  He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.
I am the good shepherd, I know my sheep and my sheep know me-just as the Father knows me and I know the Father- and I lay down my life for my sheep.

Last days

The last  Friday before my life changed forever was just a regular work day for me. I woke up at 4 a.m. having a few contractions.  Nothing more than what I had been experiencing except the time of day.  They started earlier than usual.  I took my meds, went back to bed and woke up at 7 a.m. with them starting again.  I took my Nifedepine every four hours that day; I had been taking it every 6 hours.  The last hour before the next dose of medicine was due, the number of contractions I was having went significantly up.  They weren't painful though.  I rested and they slowed, I drank more water that day which seemed to help too. 

By the end of my work day, even though they weren't more frequent they were getting stronger.  I never stopped the doctor and let her know what was going on.  It's one of those things I look back on and wish I could do over.  I walked to her office, I was going to say something, but she was talking to another doctor.  I stood outside of her door and waited and thought of all I still needed to get done.  I had to get Hannah from school, we were going to do the baby registry that weekend, and I was so tired.  She was still talking, so I turned around and walked out.  I don't know if walking in to that office would have changed anything, but it's one of those places in my mind I replay from time to time.  It's what I would have done differently.   It's a place I let the busyness of life take over.  I made the choice to keep going; to finish my plans.

Jeff, Hannah and I went out to dinner that night because I was too tired to cook.  As we sat waiting for our food, my back began to hurt terribly.  I have a very high pain tolerance, but I couldn't sit there.  We took our food to go and went home where I could put my feet up.  I didn't think I was in labor, I just didn't feel good.

As it turns out I wasn't in labor.  I wish it had been so easy. 

I woke up Saturday morning slowly becoming aware that something was wrong.  It didn't take long to realize that I had been bleeding.  It was exactly like the dreams I'd been having.  Step by step, I knew just what to do. When I woke Jeff, he panicked a little but I was completely calm.  I was scared, but God had prepared me.  We called family to get Hannah, called the doctor, and went to the hospital.  I was exactly 26 weeks pregnant that day. 

When I got to the hospital, I had what they call an irritable uterus.  I wasn't regularly contracting, but it signals the possibility of trouble.  I had an ultrasound that seemed to take forever.  My back was killing me.  I barely made it through it.  It confirmed the presence of fluid behind the placenta.  For me, I realized that horrible back pain was actually the placenta tearing away.  I had partial tears (placental abruption) that were responsible for the bleeding, but the babies looked fine.  It was then that I learned Baby B was a girl.  Three little girls.  Oh Boy!  I was admitted to labor and delivery for what I was hoping would be a few days of observation.

So that was it, the day that began a series of events that changed our lives.  Walking across the parking lot, through those double doors was essentially walking into a parallel plane.  Everything would be familiar to me when I walked back out again, but nothing would be the same.  There would be a faint echo of the life I used to live, the dreams I dreamed and the way I saw the world. I felt it then.  I knew when we were driving to the hospital that morning.  I had a sense of the landscape getting in smaller and smaller; of leaving what I knew. 

I desperately wanted it back.  I wanted the familiar more than anything, even that first day, when I didn't yet know how different it would be.  I wanted to be slowly waking up and registering for my baby shower.  Immediately, I wanted life as I thought I was scripting it.  I couldn't even begin to grasp the concept of God wanting to change me.  I literally walked out of my own and in to his plans for me that day.  I wish I could say I did it willingly and with a glad heart, but I didn't.  I was so afraid, I couldn't even say it.  I smiled and told everyone that this was going to be okay, and I tried to believe it myself.

I still thought the babies would be okay.  I hadn't thought of the possibility of something happening to them.  I was thinking of everything that wasn't finished yet.  We had just started the nursery; we had almost nothing for the babies.  I was thinking of Hannah and how she would be taken care of.  I was still really focused on the physical aspects of being hospitalized and off my feet for the rest of the pregnancy.  I was upset that I couldn't finish.  I felt like I could deal with this if I had everything ready, but it just wasn't to be.  Having that underlying feeling that something was really wrong could still be ignored....for just a few more hours.

Romans 8:14-16
because those who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of Sonship. And by him we cry, Abba, Father. The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children.

Tonight I am not going to speak of what was; instead, dedicate today to what is.

My friend is sick. My dear sweet friend is sick. Isn't it strange that sadness seems to stop the world for a minute? It always has to start again, but for the space of a breath, the blink of an eye, it feels still. When eyes reopen and that first breath is taken, everything is different.  There is a shift and an instant awareness that life may not ever be the same again.  My blog was about to tell you about my world stopping once before. Now I get to tell you about my friend.

Have you ever met a person you just want to be like? Someone that everyone is just drawn to? That is Mary Beth. Everyone loves her. Her sweetness just exudes the love of Jesus. She is truly the living fruit of the Spirit of God. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Who she is makes me want to be better.

When I started attending my church, I met her and knew that I wanted what she had. She reached out to me and my family and loved us with the love of Christ. I believe that God is going to heal her and use her for his purpose. But today, I am sad. I don't want my friend to go through any of this. Not her.

I began writing that last week when I got a call from my friend. She told me the doctors found a mass on her brain. She had just had a seizure. She was in the hospital and needed prayer.

Listening as she shared her stunning news, I was overcome with grief. After I got off the phone with her, I cried for her. Really cried. I poured my eyes out, and I hit my knees and poured my heart out. I was afraid she had cancer. I was afraid she would die. I was dreading that no matter what, her life had changed.

As nearly everything does, her life did change. But, she does not have cancer. She doesn't even have a tumor. She can be treated and was able to leave the hospital. When I spoke with her, she said she felt such peace. She felt the love of God wrapped around her and the prayers of those who love her so dearly lifted up. Her life will be different, but we all saw the awesome hand of God on her and HIS answer to our prayers.

My friend still has a long way to go, but God has been so faithful to stand with her and her family.  In those moments of learning of difficult situations, it is natural for us to want to help.  I wanted to do something.  I wanted to get in my car and go to her and help somehow.  I couldn't do that.  I could only do what was asked of me and her friends.  We could pray for her. We could stand on God's word, and as a church and community of believers, we did.

James 5:15-16
And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of the righteous man is powerful and effective

I am so thankful that I am a part of a church that values prayer.

This month, I am writing about a woman who was shattered by circumstance. A woman who didn't know where to turn. A woman who had to slowly pick up the pieces of her life and hand them to God individually as he shaped a new creation.

My beautiful friend did not even come close to shattering. She asked for prayer. She reached out to Jesus. Her immediate response to her circumstance was faith. Faith that she was in Gods hands.  Faith in knowing when she asked, her friends would pray; faith that God heard every one.  Faith that her all of her needs would be met. It has been a blessing to see her faith in action and the prayers of so many lifted up and answered.

So today, I am praising God! Thanking him for his peace that I stand in awe of. Thanking him for the shelter of his love for us. Thanking him for healing. Thanking him for reminding me that he can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine. Thanking him for responding to the cries of his people, who each witnessed his mighty power to save. Praising HIM!!

Signs of Trouble

I was about 8 pound lighter when the awful nausea and vomiting I had been experiencing finally began to subside.  They were18 weeks along then, and those hungry little babies decided they wanted food-- lots of food!  I steadily gained 2 pounds a week for the next rest of the pregnancy.  Because the babies were so early, that was only about 18 pounds, but I bet I would have been a house if it had continued.  I wish I had the opportunity to know.

My Dad and me (abouth 23 weeks)

I don't know what to say about that smile, and Dad wasn't ready for it, but there it is!

Somewhere around my 19th week, I began having contractions.  I also had minor cervical change, so I was placed on light duty at work, and bed rest while at home.  My doctor started me on nifedipine; it's actually a blood pressure medication that helped to control contractions by increasing blood flow.  It helped some, but I had contractions almost daily until the babies came.  Being the optimist that I am, I wasn't particularly concerned.  I was sure nothing could go wrong--I had waited my whole life for this.

I had routine ultrasounds and the big one that checked the babies' organs and development.  They appeared to be doing well.  Baby B had a 2 vessel umbilical cord (normal cords have 2 arteries and a vein), there was only one artery and a vein present.  That condition is sometimes be associated with kidney problems.  We wouldn't know for sure if anything was wrong until the baby was born.  We found out that day that Baby A was a  little girl.  Baby B was turned, so we couldn't see.  I didn't think they were identical twins at the time, so I was still hoping I'd get my baby boy.

We started shopping for baby things.  I LOVED this plastic Little Tykes alligator see-saw at the toy store.  I couldn't wait until the babies were old enough for me to buy it.  It became my mind-picture for having twins.  I could see us sitting the babies on it and rocking them gently, then when they were older, them rocking themselves.  Having an only child for 5 years, it was ridiculously exciting to have 2 at one time.  Looking back, it was silly being so excited about a toy, but it just seemed perfect for twins.

I also had those crazy "pregnant dreams" that women have.  I dreamed often of waking up with something wrong and I step by step went through the process of what I would do.  I also dreamed I had the babies and forgot where I put them.  I dreamed of having them and leaving the hospital without them.  A lot of those dreams were just nutty hormonal dreams.  Some of them prepared me for what was to come.  It was surprising how familiar some of those situations were when I walked through them in real life.

As the Lord was preparing me in dreams, I hadn't realized it yet, but I needed to be getting prepared in life.    I couldn't have known that I was walking through the last few weeks of life uninterrupted.

Learning to anticipate and prepare were lessons that I would learn well as time went on.  It is what God wants us all to know spiritually.  As he prepared me, I began to prepare myself.  Being prepared is not natural for me.  I do well under pressure and generally waited until the last minute to do things.  God had to change that in me quickly.  It isn't how he works.  He says to always be prepared to give a reason for our faith.  To be prepared, because none of us know how long we have here.  I still struggle with organization, I do however, prepare as much as I can for all possibilities; physically and spiritually. 

I prepare my spirit by reading my bible, attending church, bible study, and praying regularly.  I prepare physically by trying to stay on top of things.  I heard someone say once "the key to organization is RIGHT NOW".   I tell myself this often. When I begin to let any of those areas of my life slip, I feel lost and out of sorts.  Unfortunately, I am guilty of that more often than I'd like to admit.  Knowing that I have control over so little in life, preparing for what I can gives me a sense of peace and calm.  That sense of peace is the shelter in the storm that I was just about to discover then, and I cling to now. 

Matthew 3:3
This is he who was spoken through the prophet Isaiah:  "A voice was calling in the desert, 'Prepare a way for the Lord, make straight paths for him.'

1 Peter 3:15
But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord.  Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks the reason for the hope that you have.  But do this with gentleness and respect.

Do you have any tips have for being organized or staying prepared?  Physically or Spiritually -even the little things.  People who aren't wired like that don't even think of the things you organizers see as normal.  I heard someone say once to set the table for breakfast the next day the night before.  Small step, but I never would have thought of it.

So, watcha got?

Twins??

Psalm 139:13-16 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.  My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.  When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body.  All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.

As many of you know, Hannah was 2 1/2 years old when Jeff and I got married.  This later became a very big deal for me for many reasons; but that's its own story for another day. 

She was a wonderful baby.  Other than wishing I had been married when she was born, we were extremely happy.  I loved being a mother.  When I saw Hannah for the first time, I had that "this is what I'm here for" moment.   Jeff and I were both in love with her.  She was a smart, funny, sweet little baby.  Everything I had always wanted.

When we got married, I knew I wanted more children right away.  I was young and healthy and had no reason to believe I would have any trouble having another.  We lived on the Eastern Shore of Maryland at the time.  For the next two years we tried, unsuccessfully, to have a baby.  We even tried Clomid, a fertility drug, with no luck.  

Though I wasn't walking very close to the Lord at the time, he already had my babies in his arms.  Had we been able to conceive the twins in Maryland, the closest medical center that could have cared for sick babies was in Baltimore.  If they even survived the journey, they would have been more than two hours away from us. 

Jeff eventually took a new job in Greensboro, NC in the spring of 97.  I started working at an OB/GYN office, Hannah was enrolled in a sweet little Montessori School.  We were really good.  We had just decided to put off having another baby until we were more settled in our new city when I found out I was pregnant.  I was thrilled.

Thrilled isn't really a good enough word for how happy I was.  This was it.  I finally had everything where I wanted it.  I was happily married, had a beautiful daughter, and now my new baby was coming.  It was perfect.  We began attending a little Baptist church and I would lay awake at night thinking of baby names.  Looking back, it was one of the sweetest times of our life together.  Everything just fit into place.

I did have awful morning, noon and night sickness.  I survived on flat sprite and cheerios.  It wasn't fun, but I managed to live with it.  This horrible sickness lasted well into my second trimester.  Whoever coined the term "morning" sickness was probably never pregnant. 

When I was about 10 weeks along, I started having cramping stomach pains.  I was terrified I was losing the baby.  I worked in and OB office, so I saw it all the time.  That was one of the few days I wasn't nauseated, so I thought for sure that was the problem.  I talked to the doctor, and she said to do a quick scan at lunch (one of the perks of working with your OB). 

I will never forget the face of the ultrasound tech.  She shook her head and I heard "Oh Andrea".  I thought, well that's it. I've lost the baby.  Just then the doctor walked in and looked at the screen and said "twins?".  My heart stopped for at least 3 beats.  TWINS?  Are you kidding me?  Then I started to laugh.  The pain I was having turned out to be growing pains.  Two healthy little hearts beat on that screen.  There they were.  My babies. 

I called Jeff; he almost fell out of his chair.  His boss saw his stunned expression and sent him home for the day.  What I already thought of as the most wonderful time in my life just doubled!  I felt so blessed and so in awe of life.  I felt special to be having two babies.

I thought that I had waited so long, and here was my reward.  I was not really in relationship with God at the time, and although His plans were in motion, I just thought everything would be wonderful.  I can't remember thinking of George and Clayton while I was pregnant at all.  I had what I had always wanted and I was going to hold on with both hands.

Have you ever been where I was there?  I believed God existed.  I always have.  I didn't talk to him except to say grace with Hannah; I quickly thanked him for the good things in my life, and prayed really hard for the bad until the crisis had passed--then back to saying grace and quick thanks.  My hope was not in him.  I knew that I was missing something, but I wasn't sure what it was.  Then, I was so happy with what I could physically touch around me, my family, my home, my growing child; it was easy to ignore that little knock at the door of my heart.  He was saying:  you are my child, my daughter.  I need more from you than just believing I'm here.  Come sit, and talk with me.

I would eventually have that talk with my God, but not then.  I wish I had.  Maybe I wouldn't have had such a long way to go to understand faith.  If you haven't talked with him in a while, do.  Pick up your bible.  Pray.  Pour your heart out, your fears, your hopes, sing praise, not quick thanks, and then listen.  Be still and know He is God!

The Beginning

Matthew 25:40  The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you also did for me'.

Where did it all begin?

When I was a little girl I believe God began to prepare my heart for the life I would live.

I had a neighbor when I was growing up, Ms. Dot, who had twins with cerebral palsy. Boys, George and Clayton. They were uncannily similar to Emily and Abby. They couldn't walk or talk. They drooled. They smiled when I talked to them. They seemed to understand what I said to them. I watched Ms. Dot feed and change them. I noticed their thin legs and closed hands.  I saw how hard she worked. 

It was then and there I knew I did not want that life.

I used to pray 'Dear God, ANYTHING but that. Give me anything you want....but please, do not give me that.' I wondered if any of the other children in our neighborhood prayed that prayer. Did it even occur to them that their children could have disabilities?  I doubt it.  I think that was the beginning. That moment when my spirit recognized the life I would lead; the moment God opened my eyes and my heart to a different life. When he gently called a little girl to grow up and raise special little girls.

I remember sitting in my yard playing with the grass watching the Boy Scouts build a ramp for Ms. Dot so she could get the boys in and out of the house. It was a long ramp with a gentle incline. I'm sure a blessing to her. It was all well and good until they painted it this awful green color. I thought it stuck our like a sore thumb. I hated it. It screamed "there's something really wrong here". It was a huge **disability** sign to me. It bothered me; I wanted it to blend in. I wanted it to be closer to "normal".

These attitudes and ideas I carried into my adult life helped to shape how I viewed my own experiences and who I thought God was. Growing up a child of divorced parents, the idea of what I perceived as normal was something I held on to very tightly. A two parent home and an ordered life. Family, kids, structure. I thought that was what everyone had. If they didn't have it, I was sure they wanted it.

This impossible normal I coveted in a little girls heart became a huge obstacle in accepting Emily and Abby's disability. It was the surrender of the dreams I had of family and children to God's plan for my life that truly became the journey. I had to let God heal that little girl I was before He could use the woman I became. I had to lay it all down. Everything I thought had to become everything He thought. My perspective had to become His. My dreams became His plan.

So that is how I walked in to this world of disabilities. With the absolute knowledge that I didn't want to be here. I don't think anyone really wants to. It has been an extremely painful, devastating, joyful, enlightening, beautiful journey that I can say with absolute honesty I would walk again.

Don't get me wrong, if I could fix this, I would. I hear people with children with disabilities say that they wouldn't change it if they could. I would. It doesn't make sense to me to stay broken if you don't have to. That's why I love knowing Jesus. His whole life and death came to tell us that we didn't have to stay broken. He came that we would all have life and life abundantly. Not perfectly, but I see Him abundantly when I look at my girls.

I will, without a doubt, walk where the God who sees the beginning from the end leads me. I will wrap my arms around this completely not normal life because He asks me to. I will do this because those little girls have wrapped their sweet crooked fingers around my neck and opened their little mouths to kiss my face. Those slobbery kisses that I once thought I would hate restore my soul. I am so grateful for the opportunity to know this experience, to be changed by it.

I hope you will be too.

What are your thoughts on disabilities? How do you view people with differences? They can be hard to understand, loud, invade personal space, you may wonder if they understand you. It's okay to take a minute to be honest here, even if you don't leave a comment. Think about how your heart would respond to children like mine, if they were suddenly yours.  If you have a child with a disability, how did what you believed shape how you saw your child?

Most of you will not face this particular situation, so are there places in your hearts that need to be healed? What area of your life is in need of surrender, so that His plan for your life can be lived fully?

New Years

I love New Years. Even when I've had a hard year, it feels good to leave it behind and start again. 2009 wasn't bad at all. In fact it was probably the most neutral year I've had since the twins were born. Not a lot of good or bad happened. I'm not really used to it, but I think I like it. If God reads blogs, maybe he could consider giving me another one, so I would really be sure. :)

To begin 2010, I will tell you a little secret. I am an eternal optimist- there I said it! I am optimistic. It is just not possible for me to wake up thinking I'm going to have a bad day. A few years ago, Emily was in the hospital 28 days over a 10 week period. When she wasn't actually in, she was home with nursing care and tubes. I remember talking to Jeff each morning she was there, telling him that I really thought today would be the day she would turn around. By the end of one of those days, she was transferred to the pediatric ICU. I was sitting there completely shocked, thinking that I was the dumb girl--the one that just didn't get it. One would think that in all of that time, all sorts of possibilities would run through my mind, but they didn't. I always thought she would be fine, I guess when it was all said and done, she was.

It's not about being whether I'm being realistic as much as I just do not have it within me to see a glass as half empty. I have to always believe that everything will work out for the best. For the most part, I'm thankful that the Lord created me with that perspective. It has served me well to be able to seek whatever shred of good even horrible situations possess, and to truly have joy, even in small moments.

All of that is to say that new years feel full of possibility to me. They draw some invisible line in time, and suddenly I have what is likely a placebo form of renewed energy. Whatever. I'll take it. I don't know why I think the way I do, but it certainly shapes how I view my life and all that has happened.

January is the month Emily and Abby were born. Every January for the last 12 years have been tear filled for me. Again, not always the sharpest tool in the shed, it took me a while to realize how traumatic their birth and NICU experience had been. January brings back all that went wrong. As their birthday approaches, my heart simply breaks a little more for them each year. It never gets easier, but I understand now what I'm going through. Loss.

The month of January I will be telling the stories of their births and diagnosis. Realizing that I am an optimist at heart, will help you to understand how utterly shocked I was that so many things went so completely wrong. I am truly looking forward to sharing them with you.