He would be dead.

He was 3 weeks old when we met him... just a little over 3 pounds.

"Do you want to hold him?" She asked Joey...

"You'll be the first to hold him besides us..." 

and as she handed him to Joey....

"He has such wise eyes... he looks right into your heart."

"He's been through so much... he's such a fighter...." 

And she stood to the side as we got to know our new son.

In those 6 weeks, countless women and men loved on our tiny, precious boy...

 they loved on us, too.

After spending a week 6 hours away from home, getting to know our son, Joey had to go back to work... 

and most weekdays, I was alone;

My day would start and end at the Ronald McDonald House and every hour in between was spent with him... with them...

his first caregivers... some of the very first ones to love him... the first ones to pray over him... 

the first ones to pray for us...

the first ones to acknowledge us as his Mommy and Daddy.

They were the first to hold him... change him... talk to him...

the first to teach us how to care for him...

for this precious, tiny miracle...

they never left our side.

They helped us keep our heads above water... juggling the time we knew we had with our sweet girl...

and the time we had with him... 

not knowing how much of that time we had left.

As the weeks went by, we became family... I trusted them... and they trusted me.

I knew their stories...

and they were now part of mine.

The long shifts with short breaks... 

I was there for hundreds of them.

Take a walk... eat... get some fresh air... call their mom or their husband or their friend... read... listen to music that might break up the deafening sound of beeping monitors and crying babies...

they could have... should have... done anything with those short breaks....

but most days, they would sit with me.

I had held him for hours... skin to skin... begging Jesus to save him, to give him strength, to equip us to be his Mama and Daddy... watching monitors religiously as they put numbers on his life... terrified that today might be my last day with him, while it was really only one of my first...

and they would sit with me... making the horrifying sounds disappear within the soft words of our conversation.

They gave me purpose...

 and peace.

They gave me permission to love him... they placed him in my arms... 

they made me his Mama.

The doctors blew me off because I wasn't his 'real' mom... and she fought for me.

He needed to gain 3 ounces in order to start bottle feeds... and she knew he was ready so she added .5 ounces to his midnight weigh-in.

He needed to eat 30 cc's in order to keep the ng-tube out and be able to go home... she let me sleep and didn't stop feeding him until he had eaten it all.

He coded... and she saved him.

But they weren't just there for him....

I was cold... so she brought me a warm blanket.

I didn't want to spend another night alone... so she arranged to let me room in with him.

I couldn't do it on my own anymore... she let me cry and told me I wasn't doing it alone; that she was there with me.

I needed Joey to get there in time for rounds, but he was 30 minutes away and rounds had already started... so she changed the attending's schedule.

She trusted my Mommy instinct... she trusted that I knew him best... she trusted that my heart knew him... even though he didn't come from my body. 

The doctors told us he was going to die.... and none of them let him.

Lindsay.... Jackie.... Betsy.... Ellie.... Melissa.... Jennifer.... Rob.... and so many more.

They saved him.

I don't watch The View OR the Miss America Pageant...

I hate them both...

but since they're all clogging my news feed... and since so many of our friends and family have dedicated their lives to a profession as difficult as nursing...

this is the perfect opportunity for us to say "thank you" to every one of them...

but especially to the ones who saved our son.

And when this is your son... your precious miracle... your fighter...

the reality of who he is, of where he's been, of what could have been, and of where he is going...

 is never very far from your mind.

And without them...

without his nurses...

he would be dead.

Mother's Day is for First Mom's, too!

Mother's Day is just around the corner and if you're like me....

you've done nothing to prepare :-/

If your family has grown through adoption, I am begging you not to forget the First Mom's in your life.... not only does she deserve to be recognized on one of the most profoundly difficult days of the year for her... but your child NEEDS to see you acknowledge and love his/her First Mama, too!

Every year I try to find a few gift ideas the I think any First Mom would LOVE! Here are 2 super simple, inexpensive, and more than meaningful gift ideas for the First Mama in your life.... pick one and do it... you will never regret doing it, but one day you might regret it if you don't.

And please, if your precious gift is late, it's ok! Do it anyway.

(**I am not a representative for any of the companies below... I do not get anything from them for posting these links... I love their products and think they make amazing First Mom gifts**)

Canvas photo and easel (this is what our First Moms will get from Hannah and Hunter this year (sorry ladies, I ruined the surprise ;-))... and me.... cause I ordered extras ;-));

$11.96

Bangle Charm Bracelets; these are so beautiful and the charms represent so many different moments in your First Mom and child's life!

$5.95

Don't like my ideas? Fine. :-) Send some flowers... who doesn't love flowers?!


Which one did you order?! She's going to love it!

Life.

As we near the day, one year ago, that we lost our precious Number 3, I am completely overwhelmed with so many emotions...

That day tragically welcomed me... initiated me... into a 'club' that no one ever wants to be  a part of.

Can I be honest?

I had spent years.... YEARS.... basking in the comfort of 'just knowing' that we had been through enough heartache, enough pain and disappointment, that God would spare us from that.

 Right?!

Of course He would.

We had met our max... had experienced more than our fair share of failed infertility treatments, month after month... year after year of 'trying', too many failed matches, quite a few frantic packing sessions and plan making and plane-ticket-buying only to end up empty handed...

and at the end of it all, at least I could take comfort in the fact that, because of our infertility.... because we simply couldn't get pregnant in the first place... that my Jesus would save us from that... the unmentionable.... that thing that no one talks about...

miscarriage....

and ultimately, the death of a baby.

Don't get me wrong, we have lost DOZENS of babies in our 8 years of marriage...

but every one of them is walking and talking and living today...

not with us...

but they are.

And that loss, though different, never leaves you alone, either....

I know each one by name. I knew and loved their mama's with all my heart. We planned for them... prepared our home and hearts for them. They will always be part of our 'extended' family...

but they're still there... somewhere.

And I think about each one of the every single day.

And then it happened...

A surprise pregnancy came with elation and amazement at the miracles He has done in our lives...

and then it was gone.

Our precious #3.

And our world was shattered.

It took months for me to work through what had happened....

How did God think we could handle this?!

How do you have sex for 8 years... TRY for so long... and then just 'happen' to get pregnant?!

How can God bless you in such an enormous, life changing way... and then rip it from your grasp so tragically?

I was so mad. At God. 

But then it happened again...

And here we are.... 1 year since we lost our #3, 24 weeks into my second pregnancy, and about 15 weeks away from meeting our newest son...

A boy!

I've spent the past couple of months trying to figure out what to write... how to write.

I remember 'those blogs'... I've read dozens of them;

infertility, adoption, loss... and a surprise pregnancy...

and all of a sudden, all of those things that bound us... the one's we had in common... the desperate emotions I felt that were so perfectly placed into sentences were replaced with belly pictures and comparisons of babies to fruit...

those things were gone. The pain of infertility? It was somehow gone.

So I stopped reading.

I won't do that here... I refuse.... but that explains my silence recently...

As miraculous and as exciting as this time in our lives is, our precious fruit-sized baby doesn't change the fact that infertility has defined me for so long.

I'm still infertile.

And I know that that's a tough one to swallow but friends, it's true....

A pregnancy can't erase the years and years of longing and dreaming and suffering and crying out to Jesus...

because those moments, that heartache, is responsible for who I am today.

Those times define major milestones in my faith and my relationship with my Jesus... with my husband. They collected and accumulated to make me the mom I am to our 2 miracles through adoption...

they will make me the mom I will be to our newest baby, too.

So here I am...

31 years old.... 8 years since we started trying to get pregnant... 2 adoptions in to the growth of our beautiful family... dozens of losses through adoption and 1 tragic loss of our first homegrown baby... 24 weeks into our second pregnancy... 15 weeks away from meeting our second son...

and I'm still infertile.

And I'm terrified.

I know how to do infertile....

I'm a pro.

Growing a baby? Remembering with every glance in the mirror at my growing belly and with every somersault and kick that this is what my heart desired... remembering that this is what I asked for, what I longed for...

finding comfort in the fulfillment of His promises...

and trying so desperately to trust...

that we won't lose this one, too.

My heart still aches for our precious #3... and my arms ache for our #4.

I'm wishing time away, friends...

counting down the days, minutes, and seconds until I can finally hold this sweet baby boy.

And as 'that day' one year ago closes in, I've spent so much time grasping for closure to the tragedy that we experienced just one year ago... trying to find purpose in the lowest low and now the highest high of God's plan for us... trying to answer those questions of 'how' and 'why'...

and it's only recently that I've discovered something;

I will never find 'purpose' in death.

And it's actually ok that Jesus chose this to be part of our story... it's painful and I wish he had chosen to let our sweet #3 stay... but it's ok.

God never promises life on Earth...

He DOES promise life in eternity.

John 3:16- For God so loved the world that he gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him will NOT die but have eternal LIFE.

Our earthly bodies and minds will never be able to accept death... we're not supposed to... we're not built with the capacity to rationalize something as terrible and as painful as losing those we love; the ones Jesus put in our lives to strengthen and teach us and help us grow.

The purpose we can find is in life... even if that life flashed by in the blink of an eye.

Our only goal as parents is to raise our children to know Jesus... their creator... the writer of their stories... the author of the miracles that gave them to us...

and by doing that, Joey and I know that our family will one day be complete and whole in Heaven.

What greater gift can you give your family than life in eternity together and the hope that comes with knowing we'll never have to live apart?

The loss of our precious #3 will hurt every day until the day we are all together again...

but we will be together again. And that's the promise I've found in the loss of our baby... Jesus helped us fulfill our deepest desire as parents; to see our babies in eternity... whenever He's ready for us.

And that is the purpose I have found in the short, but oh-so-sweet life of our #3. That sweet baby is waiting for us, giving us purpose and comfort here in this life, allowing us to rest in the knowledge that someone is waiting for us... waiting to complete us.

And this baby... Our #4... our son?

Every wave and every kick reminds me that, while 'infertile' will always be a word that defines me... while loss still feels so close and raw... while fear and anxiety stand at the cusp of stealing my joy...

 new life is coming.

I'm learning how to do this thing called 'pregnant'... it's not easy. I'm learning that the miracles that create life inside of one and place it in her arms are full of as many unknowns and challenges as the miracles that create life inside one and place it in the arms of another.

Today I am grateful for the short life of our #3 and rest in knowing that he/she is safely waiting for me in the arms of Jesus...

and I'm grateful for the life inside of me that reminds me throughout each day that life is what we are promised...

Whether we find the fulfillment of that promise here on Earth...

or in eternity with him.

2 Years Ago Today... Miracle #3; The Day He Stopped Breathing

There are very few days that stick out in my mind like today...

A day where, inevitably, at some point during the day, my heart will stop and my palms will start to sweat as my mind flashes back to a few short minutes that changed this day forever.

The day our son stopped breathing.

June 29, 2012

Recently home from the NICU... barely 5 pounds... freshly bathed...

And I didn't put him back on his heart monitor.

The day we almost lost him.

Our son... Our baby... Our fighter.

Today is a day I will never forget... would never wish to relive...

and will be forever grateful for.

The lessons learned... the memory that ends happily... the reminder to just keep breathing...

and thankfulness that he has just kept breathing.

Flashback;

I've been hanging Miracle #3 over your heads for weeks, I know... out of all 3 miracles, #3 has been the hardest for me to write. Maybe because it's so fresh. Maybe because it was traumatic.

Maybe because it happened on my clock.


Maybe because I thought I had moved on and really, I'm still hanging on.

One of the things that kept Hunter in the hospital for a full 10 weeks was his apnea. Most preemies struggle to remember to breath in their first few weeks and months of life. In the hospital, an alarm will sound when a baby stops breathing... nurses run, shaken baby syndrome is forgotten ;-), oxygen is administered, and baby remembers to breath again. If baby doesn't start breathing, it's ok... you're in the hospital!

Taking home a baby who forgets to breath is challenging. Hunter came home on caffeine... yep. It is what I said it is.... small doses of caffeine administered to him by mouth daily. The caffeine keeps his brain alert enough around the clock, to remind his body to breath. We also brought him home on an apnea monitor. A foam strap wraps around Hunter's chest and holds electrodes snug against his skin. The monitor sounds alarms for various changes in his breathing and heart rate patterns. Much like the one in the hospital, our portable apnea monitor will sound a very loud alarm if Hunter stops breathing for 20 seconds or more.

If and when the alarm sounds, we run to him... and by 'run' I mean RUN.... or pull over.... or stop in the middle of the road.... or drop the phone..... you get the point. When an alarm sounds, first we look at him... we check out his color; is he pink, purple or blue? We look at his chest; is it rising and falling? If he's blue or purple or not breathing, we stimulate him... shake him gently, tap the bottom of his foot, reposition him. If moving and stimulating him doesn't wake him up and doesn't stop the alarm so we know he has started breathing again, we call 911 and begin CPR.

It's as scary as it sounds.

In order for Joey and I to be allowed to take Hunter home from the hospital we both had to take a CPR class... and we took it twice. We had both been certified in the past but when you take the class knowing full well that what you're learning could one day help you save your child's life....well, you pay a little more attention.

Leaving the hospital, we were told that 'most' babies outgrow their apnea quickly and their monitor is only necessary for a few weeks at home.

Hunter is not 'most' babies.

Finding out if baby has outgrown his apnea is completely trial and error.... you stop their caffeine, which has a 3-5 day half-life. If there are no alarms after that 3-5 days it's safe to say that baby is old enough and mature enough to remember to breath on his/her own and the apnea monitor is no longer necessary. If alarms continue to sound after the caffeine's half-life, caffeine is started again and it's assumed that baby needs more time to grow.... and then you try again a few weeks later.

Keeping baby on his monitor is key to finding out if he has outgrown his apnea.... and I took it very seriously. Hunter was on his monitor 24/7 with the exception of when he took his bath. Awake, asleep, playing, in the car, being held... he was ALWAYS on his monitor.

We had hundreds of alarms in our first couple months home with Hunter. He slept in our room for a LONG time so he was within arms reach should his alarm sound. We used a special carseat called a Car Bed for quite a while so he was laying down in the car and not upright where his neck could fall on his chest and make breathing even more difficult for him than it already was.

He napped downstairs where I could see him at all times. Everyone who might even possibly be in a room alone with him at any time was given a mini lesson on the basics of CPR.... and the basics were posted on our fridge (and still are).

We were the ones you wanted to be around if you were going to stop breathing....

Miracle #3 has 4 drafts in my post list.... 4. As many times as I've written it out, I still can't get it right. And it's hard still, to get through it.

So... I think the best thing for me to do is to share with you the letter I wrote to Hunter in his private blog on June 29th, 2012...

The Day You Stopped Breathing

Hi Baby-Boy~

You stopped breathing today. Oh, you've done it before but today was different. Like, the turn purple, black rings around your eyes, start CPR and call 911 kind of stopped breathing.

I'll never forget today. Ever. And I pray that it will always remain the worst day of my life.

You were anxious today and more fussy than usual... I gave you a bath to calm you down. The problem with the bath is that you're amazingly calm and zen-like IN the bath but when the bath is over, all hell breaks loose.

Seriously.

I wrapped up your screaming, cold, angry self and plopped you in the swing so you could warm up and calm down. You hadn't had an apnea episode in 3 weeks so...

I didn't turn your monitor on.

I stripped the beds, started a load of laundry and thought to myself, "Finally... he's quite. I can get some stuff done."

And then I stopped. Something... someone told me to check on you. To hurry.

You were about 30 feet away from me in your swing... I turned around and looked at you...

Purple. Black rings around your eyes. Not moving.

Not breathing.

I started screaming. Loud screaming. Panicked screaming. Desperate screaming. Screaming your name.

I picked you up and I was rough... I wasn't gentle. I was desperate. I shook you... and was still screaming.

You didn't respond.


I remember thinking, "This is what a dead baby looks like."


I prayed. "God, PLEASE. PLEASE!"

He knew what I was asking.

Ms. Allison was there that day helping me with fussy you and active Big Sister. She had looked over from the kitchen and yelled, "he's purple!" She ran to us and I opened my mouth to tell her to call 911 ...



the smallest sound.



No moving... just sound.


I don't know how I heard it over my screaming.



I grabbed you and held you... tight.

It took about 10 seconds that felt like 10 hours for you to start crying... a strong cry. But you did it. I cried. I sobbed.

I handed you over to Ms. Allison..... you were safer with her.

I called your doctor. I told the receptionist to call your doctor... not the nurse, not his voicemail, THE DOCTOR. "Go get him yourself if you have to.... I need to talk to him RIGHT NOW." She paged him. He called me 2 minutes later.

We started your caffeine moments later and upped your dose I promised to keep you on your monitor.

I didn't have you on your monitor.

Me.

The thing is, Baby Boy.... 5 more seconds and I wouldn't have been able to wake you up.

But 5 seconds sooner than too-late God told me to check on you. He didn't push me or scream like  I did... He told me. Gently. And I listened.

Thank God I listened.

I know that I have to get past the blame game... Your Daddy, Ms. Allison, your doctor... everyone has told me I didn't do anything wrong but I did... I didn't put you on your monitor. That's just the truth. I knew better.

I'm working on that part.... but there's one thing I can't I can get past;

That... what happened to you... that's SIDS. Parents who finally have a chance to get things done, realize their baby has been quiet... too quiet... and it's too late.

5 second too late? A minute? An hour?

I know they ask those questions.

I read their blogs.

I've wondered so many times since bringing you home why EVERY baby can't come home with a monitor.

'Autopsy is inconclusive.'

'Reason for death unknown.'

"If I had only checked on him a few minutes earlier... would it have made a difference?"

"I never should have let him sleep that long."

I know those mamas and daddies ask themselves those questions...

I'm so thankful that I don't have to.

But my heart hurts for those mamas and daddies... because today could have ended so much differently than it did.



Baby-boy.... I've never met anyone quite like you. I've always believed that God is capable of performing miracles.... not just Bible miracles but today miracles. I know I've witnessed them... but never like this. Never like I have since God brought you to me. You're a miracle over and over again.... your life, your story, your growing testimony.... miracles.

You have wrecked me. In the most beautiful, scary, miraculous, terrifying way, you have wrecked me.

I refuse to worry about you, sweet boy because God has you so firmly held in His powerful grip that nothing can get to you.

He held you today and he'll continue holding you... just like He did today.

Just breathe, Baby-Boy... Please just breathe.

I love you more than life itself,

~Mama

This is no April Fools joke! .... "Jesus Told Me, Mommy!"

Today marks the anniversary, of sorts, of a day that we will never forget.... a day when our faith in God's plan for our family changed forever... it was stretched and deepened profoundly.

You see, our sweet boy just celebrated his 2nd birthday...

but 2 years ago today, we still didn't know him...

he was lying in a hospital incubator, 10 days old, fighting for his life...

And we were still waiting for our #2....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Let's flash- back to April 1, 2012;

Hi friends :-) It's been a while and I sat down tonight to write a long-overdue blog post/ update ... I just can't. To admit that we are 18 months into this second adoption wait, to try and justify why it's been that long, to reminisce about how much time we've 'wasted' waiting on different situations, and to act like it's all ok because God still has a plan.... Feels kind of fake. Since I can't find words, I'll let God choose them for me...

"Love is never tired of waiting."1 Corinthians 13:4

Last week Joey and I admitted that we were both just tired of waiting... and every time we feel that way God shows up to offer a light, some encouragement, and something to look forward to. Today, we are thankful for some light, are feeling encouraged, and are looking forward... We will never grow tired of waiting for our baby :-)

That was my Facebook post earlier this week and you know, it's really true;

We haven't grown tired of waiting... because well, we'd wait a lifetime if that's what it took to bring our next baby home. Just because we aren't tired doesn't mean that we aren't frustrated or confused or even angry sometimes... or a lot of times. We haven't given up and to me, that means that each morning we wake up refreshed and hopeful and 'good-anxious'... and we rejoice in the fact that we made it through one more day that has gotten us closer to our baby. THAT is worth the frustration, confusion, and anger, is it not?

Nope, Joey and I are doing fine... living one day at a time and doing our best to trust that God's plan is better than our own (but seriously, I CAN'T wait to see HOW and WHEN His plan will be better than my own... because my own is pretty damn good!), ((Sorry I used the 'D' word :-/)), (((Does infertility and/or adoption bring out your dirty mouth? I didn't even know I had one until infertility and adoption!!)

If you're 'waiting' or if you've ever 'waited', you know the magnitude of what I'm going to say... you know that it pierces your heart, makes you sick to your stomach, and gives you goosebumps all at the same time. Mostly, it just makes me more frustrated and confused and angry when I realize that

 we are not the only one's who are hurting through this wait... who are anxious and excited and hopeful. Our children are, too.

We have prepared our sweet girl 3 (T.H.R.E.E) times this year for her role as big sister... as in; "hurry and wash the baby clothes, unpack the car seat, clean the house, and start packing" kind of preparation. One of those times was a slower process but felt just the same when those babies didn't wear the clothes, sit in the car seat, or come home. Because of how difficult this past year has been, Joey and I have been EXTREMELY cautious around Hannah... we simply do not discuss 'baby' anything in her presence. If we get an email from an expectant mom or hear about a situation through an attorney, we wait and discuss it when Hannah's napping or in bed. While we DO pray for Hannah's baby brother or sister some nights at bedtime (it IS important for her to know that when baby comes home, it means that Jesus answered our prayers!), we just want to protect her as much as we can from the possibility of being 'heartbroken'... again.

Well...

Joey and I were getting dressed this morning and Hannah came tearing into our room.... full force yelling, "Mommy Daddy Mommy Daddy!!!! I'm so excited! My baby brother is coming home tonight!!!!"

Now imagine... how do you respond to this?

Well, if you're us, you get immediate goosebumps and stand there like idiots with your mouths hanging open.

I mean, how can you not be a little shocked/freaked out?

When we recovered, we hugged our bouncing 3 year old and moved on... what do you SAY???

Our day was fun; lunch at a fun place since Daddy was home today, puzzles, books, planted a tree, and made sugar cookies. Hannah wasn't into dinner tonight so we said the customary, "You can get down from the table but you don't get any treats until you eat your 5 bites" and she ran to play in the play room.

Joey and I finished eating and about 10 minutes later Hannah came running into the kitchen yelling, "My baby brother is almost here!! He';s on his way, he's almost here! Hurry I have to eat my dinner!  I don't know what car he's in.... let's go watch for him!"

By this time, Joey and I are a little more than confused/freaked out and I finally asked Hannah... "Who told you that your baby brother is coming home tonight?"

Hannah looked sweetly from her Daddy to me and said...

"Jesus told me, Mommy!"

Of course He did....

Ugh.

In the same extremely mature and sophisticated way in which we typically communicate with our daughter...

Joey changed the subject.

(Okay really?!?! Like you wouldn't have done the same thing!)

It was then that I felt sick to my stomach... and guilty... and angry... and confused... and in some strange way...

hopeful.

Here's the thing...

Most moms and dads would hear that from their child, dismiss it, and think, "There's no way that could happen, anyway... a baby showing up on our door step tonight! Ha!"

But... we met Hannah's birth-parents on a Thursday night, and picked up our baby-girl on Friday morning... 13 hours later.

Not so crazy, after all.

Back to the kitchen tonight....  me feeling sick.... my 'inner me' started running her mouth...

"It's Easter weekend.... it's the absolute perfect time to bring our baby home! Maybe she's right... God says that we need to have faith like a child, right? What if we DO bring our baby home this weekend?"

 “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and have faith like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

~Matthew 18:3

But here's what followed...

"What are you talking about?! EVERY SINGLE STINKING DAY FOR THE PAST YEAR HAS BEEN THE PERFECT DAY TO BRING OUR BABY HOME!!!!!"

So much for faith, huh?

Joey and I talked later on about how we should proceed with Hannah since she's obviously very aware, despite our best efforts to protect her, of this long 'wait' to become a big sister. We've learned (the hard way) that Scripture is always the best place to turn when you're at a loss...

But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.”  

~Matthew 19:14

We will let her dream... we'll even dream with her.

We will let her be excited... and we'll allow ourselves to be excited (once again), too.
We will learn from her flawless and perfect faith... we need it.

And we will pray that God will continue to place His loving and profound words in her heart because I have to be honest... there are days when I listen to my daughter more than I listen to my Heavenly Father and quite frankly, that's not ok.

To me, Easter represents all things 'new'... Jesus rising from the grave, our sins being washed clean, the weather, flowers, trees, fresh fruits and vegetables...

So why not families, too???

We always knew that Hannah was 'advanced' (my dad's word ;-))...



 but today she taught her Mama a much-needed lesson in faith!

I love you, sweet girl and know without a shadow of a doubt that you will be the BEST big sister there ever was.... and hopefully soon!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

That day, April 1, 2012, Hannah was absolutely convinced that her baby brother was on his way. She knew.

How did she know?

"Jesus told me, Mommy!"

Friends...

He did.

April 1, 2012 was the day that Hunter's sweet First Mama relinquished her parental rights... not even knowing if her precious baby would be alive when she could come back and visit him on Easter morning.

By all legal terms, that sweet boy was our's...

we just didn't know.

We wouldn't know for 2 more weeks.

But Hannah knew.

She knew that she was a big sister...

But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.”

~Matthew 19:14

And she was right;

Jesus told her heart.

 So you'll understand when we were eating cake and celebrating our #3's 'birthday/ due date' last week and my heart started pounding, the room spun, and I broke out in a sweat when my sweet girl said sweetly...

"Mommy, I know our new baby will LOVE birthday cake on his birthday next year!"

.............

Faith like Hannah's.



** It is always our prayer that the Lord uses the story He is writing for our family to change lives... please feel free to 'share' His story to help change lives and give Him the glory for the amazing things He has done! **

The 'Special Needs' Parent

I've been a high school teacher...  I've taught English, psychology, creative writing, and everything in between. I've been a special needs teacher.... I've taught precious children who had Autism, Downs Syndrome, and Aspergers... children who were verbal, non-verbal, and everything in between. Those babies taught me so much... more than I could ever have hoped to learn in one lifetime of lessons.

But in the past 2 years, I've learned one of the biggest lessons of my life;

I've spent much of my life working with and loving children who had 'special needs'... children whom the world refers to as 'special needs children'...

And that, my friends, is a huge mistake.

In my short 2 years of parenting a child with 'special needs', I have learned one of the biggest lessons of my life...

There is, in fact, no such thing as a 'special needs child'.

You see, 'special needs' does not refer to the child; in reality, 'special needs' refers to the child's parents.... to us....

to me. 

I went to bed last night feeling disappointed in myself... Defeated. It's so hard not to ask myself sometimes if God made a mistake by trusting me with this gift... This precious, 'special', child of his...

I'm not patient enough... I don't 'know' enough... I haven't been a parent 'long enough' to be what this amazing little boy needs in a Mama!

Hunter 'usually' sleeps until 7 or later, but when he woke up with his 'sad cry' this morning at 5, I knew something was 'off'... 

And I thought it was him.

I brought him into bed with me and as soon as we laid down, he snuggled in with his warm cheek against mine, and slept (and snored) soundly (loudly) until 7:30.

That's heaven, my friends.

Me? I didn't sleep a wink.

Sometime around 6am, with that little squishy cheek against mine, I realized something...

He wasn't 'off'... I was.

I spend so much time dwelling on whether or not I'm good enough for him... whether or not God made some huge mistake in trusting me with him...

that I've missed the true purpose of God's plan;

God did not 'gift' this child with me because I am good enough or knowledgeable enough.... because I'm not....

 this Mama is as 'special needs' as they come. 

My Jesus knew that the only way I could make it through this life.... the only way I could fulfill the purpose HE has for my life.... was if I had this particular, and amazingly 'special', warm cheek against mine at those moments when I am the most 'special needs'.

Hunter will be fine... He IS MORE than fine... He's a miracle! Don't get me wrong... He works his (you know what) off every day to be who he is and do what he does... but there is nothing that I can do to change the already-perfect plan for his life by being 'good enough' or 'smart enough'.

But me? I'm still learning... I'm catching up...

And even though I might be a slow learner, and even though I sometimes let what's 'typical' blind my faith and trust in the God who not only gave my children life, but gave them to ME... 

My God also knows when I just need a sweet, warm, squishy cheek against mine.

 And sometimes, I need the reminder that what makes ME 'special' is what makes me what's best right now for the babies He's given to me.

And if that's all I learn for a lifetime of lessons? 

That's enough. 

Tonight? I'm going to bed content... even though my parenting day wasn't perfect. 

And I'm hoping with all my heart that one of my babies wakes up at 5am, knowing that his or her Mama needs their warm, squishy cheek against hers because that's the best way a 'special needs' mama can possibly start her day!

~ Here's to wishing that your sleep is filled with warm, squishy cheeks... and the reminder of what makes you 'special needs' in this life that God has perfectly chosen for you.

Miracle #5- This boy was born with a fatal heart condition.....

(The title... isn't that 'in' right now?! So sorry... I couldn't resist, but you really won't believe what happens ;-))

If you're new to Hunter's Story;
Miracle #1
Miracle #2
Miracle #3
Miracle #4; Part I  and Part II 

I remember fragments of that first phone call... 

"2 pounds... Hydrops Fetalis... heart anomaly... brain bleed... kidney failure... liver failure... metabolic disorder... Cerebral Palsy..."

and so much more.

The truth? None of it registered.... the only thing I heard?

"He needs a family.... he's your son."

I've mentioned before...

So many people thought we were stupid... how could we voluntarily 'sign up' for a baby who had so little hope for a future? He was broken... and in medical terms, broken beyond repair.

I'd like to say that our faith was strong and we knew, even then, that God would heal him... would give him a future... that he would celebrate turning 1 year old... that he would walk... and run... and talk... that one day, he would even recognize us as his.

His family.

But i'd be lying if I claimed that our faith was strong or that we firmly believed that God's plan for him was greater than the hundreds of pages of death sentences in his medical records.

All we knew was that we were a family that was aching for the one who was missing...

and he was a baby who was fighting for his life... without a family.

And so it made sense to us... and we went.

We walked into that tiny NICU room, blinded by the darkness of the hallways and deafened by the sounds of life support and heart machines. Those sounds represented life... and also death. 

As we neared the very last pod... the one that held a precious, 3 week old baby... what we didn't know was if the sounds that grew louder as we grew closer represented life... or death... for the life struggling within it.

Those moments are nestled in a part of my mind that registers so vividly that I believe it all happened just yesterday.

His primary doctor sat down and asked us to listen carefully as she tried her best to 'explain' the tiny baby who was now staring deeply into my husbands eyes...

She explained about his brain bleed... the discrepancies in the size of his kidneys... the dangerous levels of biliruben in his liver... the damage done to his intestines and muscles by the fetal hydrops... how his prematurity and low muscle tone put him at huge risk for developing CP... how they already believed that he HAD CP... his irregular heartbeat and the measures they had to take moments after birth to fix it... the repercussions of the measures they took to save him... the dozens and dozens of medications he was currently on and would soon be on... how long she believed he would remain in the NICU...

and how she honestly believed that he might never leave.

His heart condition... the one they knew he had in utero... and the reason they were surprised that he made it through delivery at all. How they hadn't really planned to have a baby to revive... to save... after delivery. How the NICU team was in place in the OR "just in case" they had a baby to help. She explained how broken his heart was... that he was facing numerous surgeries by the time he was school age... if he made it that far. How his activity would have to be limited as he got older... how difficult that would be for the parents of a boy... no sports or running. 

It was terrifying.

Only moments before, as Joey held this precious baby boy in his arms, we had exchanged 'the look'. The one that secured this baby's place in our family.... in our hearts. 

It had been decided.

He was ours.

But as her explanations grew longer... as her description of his 'outlook', of the kind of life he would lead, of the number of open heart surgeries he would have and how those surgeries would only buy him time, not a life... it was his heart that caused us to pause...

caused us to rethink.

Because that's the thing about adoption, friends... it's so nice to think that your baby has been chosen for you and that you really don't have a 'choice'... but you do. You do get to 'choose'... sometimes, you get to say 'yes' or 'no'.

She walked out of that tiny corner room and left us to 'discuss' what we would do...

but we didn't discuss anything.

We started at him... memorized him. We marveled at how such a tiny baby could be stronger than either of us could ever hope to be. We watched him breathe... realizing what strength and effort it takes for our bodies to just breathe. We noticed that his eyebrows and eyelashes hadn't grown in yet, he didn't even have nose hairs, his fingernails and toenails were there but they were different... they were too new, his movements were mechanical... not intentional, his eyes...

his eyes.

They were wise. They knew something that we didn't...

and that's when we knew;

We wanted to be the one's who were around long enough to find out what.

For however long that might be.

We knew that we would never be 'ok' with knowing that his life would be short... never knowing how much longer we had with him. But we also knew that we would love every second we did have with him... and if we had learned THIS much in the few minutes we had spent with him, then we couldn't even imagine what more we were going to learn from him.

And all he needed from us... was love.

And we could do that... so we said 'yes'.

But that heart...

It was the one thing that was definite... they could transplant a kidney or a liver, vigorous PT could help with the CP, hearing aids could help with hearing loss, surgeries or medicine could help the brain bleed, an apnea machine could help us at home... 

but the heart; surgery could buy him some time... but it was the one thing that couldn't be fixed.

It was definite... but it was a ticking time bomb.

Literally.


(If you're unfamiliar with Hunter's Story, now is the time to catch up... 
Miracle #1
Miracle #2
Miracle #3
Miracle #4; Part I  and Part II )



Especially Miracle #2.



But then, last year our baby boy turned 1...

And he wasn't supposed to.

Hunter's cardiologist follows him closely....

his irregular heartbeat, a displaced tricuspid valve, a leaky valve...

they're all there.

They've been there.

Never cause for immediate alarm...

still, haunting.

I took Hunter to his usual, routine check-up with his Cardiologist last week....

It was business, as usual....

These appointments always go the same way; EEG, heart ultra-sound, physical exam, discussion of the day's findings, 24 hour holster monitor is put on him, and we go home.

This visit...

was different.

After Hunter's EEG, the nurse left the room... without a word.

My heart started to pound... I was sweating...

the walls were closing in.

Hunter's doctor walked in... finally.

She listened to his heart... with him standing up... and then laying down.

She walked to the computer and pulled up his EEG...

she wrote something down.

I felt the walls closing in...

something was wrong.

"Is something wrong? I'm getting nervous..."

She sat down and wheeled her chair closer to the table where Hunter and I were sitting...

"I'm so sorry... It's not my intention to scare you."

She was quiet... gentle.

"I wanted to be sure I had all of the information I needed before talking to you..."

Here it comes...

"I looked over Hunter's EEG and compared it to the one we did a few months ago... I considered doing another ultra-sound, but after listening to his heart myself, I am confident when I tell you that....

Hunter has...

completely normal cardiac function."

.......

"He has .... what?"

.......

"I know it's hard to understand... it's hard for me to understand, too but this is Hunter, after all. I want you to know that I would never say something like this if I wasn't 100% certain of what I was telling you. And I am 100% certain that Hunter's heart is functioning just as well as yours or mine."

......

"His heart... it's... normal?! What about his tricuspid valve and heart surgeries? The leak? Sports? He wasn't supposed to live and...."

.....

"I know. And you're right... those things were all true. From a medical standpoint, this is a phenomenon. Impossible. But we know Hunter... and we know the miracle that he is. His heart is normal, Mrs. Smith. That's all I know for today. I'll see him again in a year. Enjoy your son, Mrs. Smith... he's going to be 2 years old next week! And he'll have so many more after that."

.....

She hugged both of us... but held onto Hunter for just a little longer. She smiled as we walked out and as the door closed behind us, I heard her whisper to the nurse...

"He amazes me."

And though I knew that the doctor in her was referring to my precious boy, our miracle..

I knew that the real her was talking about our Jesus.

........

The past 2 years have been a roller-coaster of ups and downs... unknowns, mixed in with the promises and truths that Jesus has planted firmly in our hearts.

These 2 years have consisted of emergency room visits, moments when we all needed reminders to breathe, therapies of every kind, CPR, Heimlich Maneuvers, asthma treatments, ear tubes, hearing aids, viruses we thought would never end...

first steps, climbing in drawers, throwing balls, running, tantrums, eating sheet rock, eating dog food, eating... everything, wrestling, learning to talk....

And last weekend we celebrated Hunter's 2nd birthday...

another one that never 'should' have been.

With his 2nd birthday, we are reminded that the miracles that explain Hunter's life are no longer what define him...

because he craves human touch, relaxes when a warm cheek touches his, thrives on routine and predictability, loves doing everything that he shouldn't, thinks that no one can see him if his eyes are tightly shut, loves to walk sideways or backwards or in circles, can pin his daddy on the floor, thinks that the word 'meatball' is hilarious, idolizes his big sister and craves her attention, does something silly and looks to her for the first laugh, always makes sure mommy and daddy know when he does something well, thinks that Princess Sophia is cute, has the most contagious laugh, and has a smile that can brighten anyones day.

That... is our son.

Hunter.

Our fighter.

No miracles would have been fine... the boy with heart and liver and kidney and hearing and muscle and speech and brain challenges... would have been a blessing.

This boy? These miracles?

We are honored that God chose us to be this boy's forever Mommy and Daddy.... we are underserving... and more than thankful.

And regardless of how God chose us to be his Mommy and Daddy, I'm convinced that the real match was made between a big sister and her little brother... 

His protector from day 1...

Happy birthday, precious boy... you have stolen our hearts and have changed lives! 

You are truly On Loan From Heaven.. we're just glad we get to keep you for a little longer than a while ;-)