No, I'm not going crazy...at least not any more than I was before.
I know how odd it sounds, but I will randomly break into Christmas songs. I did that a few nights back, so DH searched on YouTube and brought up The Christmas Can-Can by Straight no Chaser (SNC). Straight no Chaser is a a cappella group that started at Indiana University in Bloomington, Indiana. They reunited ten years later and after an interesting chain of events, they ended up being asked to do a completely a cappella Christmas CD. The next year they came out with a second Christmas CD and this year they came out a non-Christams CD (actually, two, but some of the songs are the same on both).
But I digress...after hearing The Christmas Can-Can for the first time this year, it reminded me how much I LOVED this group. So I've been listening to all of their CD's on their webpage (you can listen to all their CD's using the box on the right hand side of the computer screen). My favorite is their Christmas Cheers CD. It has great songs like The Christmas Can-Can and Who Spiked the Eggnog?. Not to mention, the song that made them famous, The Twelve Days of Christmas. Of course the other Christmas CD has the live version of The Twelve Days of Christmas along with Indiana Christmas, which I love, considering I live in Indiana.
So I am ready for Christmas when it comes to listening to the songs...But I'll probably still wait until the week before to do all my shopping...
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
An amazing God moment
I had to share this. I was ironing clothes, getting ready for my family sponsored golf tournament, when I just happened to look out my back door. On my back porch, there were probably about 10 on the porch, with 5 more in the grass (that I could see) birds sitting and eating the seed from the long weedy grass that has started to grow next to our porch. Since I was finished with DH's shorts, I sat down to watch them. It was amazing. These little birds. (either a mockingbird, catbird, or brown thrasher, based off of pictures) would hop up, hold down a long stalk of grass with their feet, and peck the seeds out. As I was sitting there watching, about 25 of these birds, flew up and moved to a different section of grass.
God amazes me with the wonder of his creation. We just need to be willing to take the opportunities to sit and watch it.
God amazes me with the wonder of his creation. We just need to be willing to take the opportunities to sit and watch it.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Don't judge me...
I posted this as another journal entry on another site, but I feel like I need to post it here to. It is NOT directed to anyone in particular...just a general gripe against the drama that surrounds TTC (trying to conceive). Some general acronyms before I start...and this will get a little TMI for some people, I'm sure. :-P
TTC=trying to conceive (trying to have a baby)
IL=in laws
BFP=big fat positive (a positive on a home pregnancy test...I AM NOT PREGNANT RIGHT NOW!)
DH=dear husband
This post is also related to my last one, in that I've just been thinking a lot about Alex's last day and the days following. As I said before, I am not speaking out against ANYONE...it is just a post about the way I feel when it comes to drama...
*******
TTC=trying to conceive (trying to have a baby)
IL=in laws
BFP=big fat positive (a positive on a home pregnancy test...I AM NOT PREGNANT RIGHT NOW!)
DH=dear husband
This post is also related to my last one, in that I've just been thinking a lot about Alex's last day and the days following. As I said before, I am not speaking out against ANYONE...it is just a post about the way I feel when it comes to drama...
*******
Just because I'm TTC #2 doesn't mean that my heartache isn't as bad as yours. I NEVER got to have the normal "baby" experience with my little Alex. He was in the hospital HIS ENTIRE 10 MONTH LIFE. You think that's not a big deal? Try driving to the hospital which is 45 min. away every day. Try calling in the morning to see how the little guy is doing and being told he's fine, only to get there and find out he has pneumonia AGAIN (a total of 6 times, all aspiration pneumonia). The phone calls of frazzled and anxious nurses who are worried that the little guy won't make it for you to get there to see him. And finally, the sudden realization that he won't make it. That you just wasted the entire afternoon not seeing him because you were so afraid of going into his room and seeing him non-responsive, apathetic, breathing hard, and his heartrate above 200. Holding him as they took away his breathing aparatus and knowing that he was gone. Crying when your IL's and your family come in...having to tell them that he was gone. Planning a funeral and being joyful about the little things, like the fact that despite his late development, he was still too big to be put in the babyland portion of the cemetary. Knowing he's in heaven with Jesus, but finding it hard to think to much on that last night.
I am not a bad person. Even if I get a BFP this first month trying, it doesn't mean that you should get upset or "mad" at me for celebrating, because believe me, I'm going to be having tons of worries about my little one without you complaining that I've only been trying a month.
Or maybe I won't and it will take me just as long as it did for Alex, if not longer. Either way, it doesn't change the fact that though I've had one child already, in reality, I'm hoping that this will be my first normal child. Because Alex was extra special. Because God knew what DH and I needed. And because God knew that we would be the very best parents for Alex. That doesn't change ANYTHING!
I am not a bad person. Even if I get a BFP this first month trying, it doesn't mean that you should get upset or "mad" at me for celebrating, because believe me, I'm going to be having tons of worries about my little one without you complaining that I've only been trying a month.
Or maybe I won't and it will take me just as long as it did for Alex, if not longer. Either way, it doesn't change the fact that though I've had one child already, in reality, I'm hoping that this will be my first normal child. Because Alex was extra special. Because God knew what DH and I needed. And because God knew that we would be the very best parents for Alex. That doesn't change ANYTHING!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Memories I haven't thought about
As we are nearing the 1 year mark of Alex passing away, I've found myself inundated with memories of his final night. These are memories that I've tried not to think about. Memories that I've skated over when describing what happened, but never really looked at with any detail. But considering in a week and a day it will have been a year...and that I keep being reminded of that night, I'm going to follow God's lead and write down what happened. Don't read any further if you do not want to read about that night.
The day started out like any other. I got up and fought with myself about going into the hospital, but I reminded myself that every time I see the little guy, my stresses and my worries and my "I don't wannas" fly right out the window. So I got ready and headed out. I was expecting to see him bouncing back from his surgery at this point. After all, this surgery was not as big of a deal as some of h is previous ones. He should be closer to his non-sick, non-recovery from surgery self. In fact, part of me expected the nurses and doctors to have started dialing down the O2 to try and switch him to CPAP.
A 45 minute drive later, I walk into his room to see it dark and the nurse telling me that he had a rough night and that the docs don't want any hands on. Okay, not what I was expecting, but not unusual for Alex. I sat in his darkened room all morning, watching as his oxygen levels dropped and his heart rate got in the upper 100's...close to 200. And I started stressing. After all, this looks like classic Alex when he has pneumonia. That was the only thought I had. He has pneumonia. Or something similar. How could it be any different? We were bringing him home in 2 weeks. Nothing else could be happening. I went down to lunch and was eating and reading, trying to get my stress levels down, when one of the nurses from upstairs found me.
She had been sent down to tell me that Alex wasn't doing well. That he was struggling more and they were doing an x-ray to figure out what was wrong. She helped me to carry my tray up to the NICU waiting room, where I started to finish my lunch, but then one of the neonatal nurse practitioners came in to give me an update. She told me that Alex wasn't doing well and that maybe I should call DH. I had the NNP call DH because I couldn't handle talking to him. He called me on my cell phone when he was walking out to his car (luckily, DH's office was only about 15 min. away from the hospital). He asked me what was going on and I told him that I only knew what the NNP told us, because I was too afraid to go back into Alex's room. I couldn't go in there and deal with the stress of seeing his numbers jump all over the place. DH said that was fine because he would be there soon. About that time, the social worker came in to the waiting room and wanted to know if there was anything I needed. I told her that I was tired and I wanted to rest.
The rest of the afternoon is kind of a blur. DH got to the hospital and saw me briefly before going back to Alex's room. The social worker got me a recovery room to rest in. I remember I napped for a bit. Mostly, I remember just sitting in the room and kind of staring into space. The social worker was really nice and hugged me and told me she was praying for us, but I think it was she who reminded me that what happening was all part of God's plan. She did that by telling me of an Amy Grant song called Breath of Angels. The song itself is about Mary, but some of the parts of it fit with what had happened and what was going on.
Right around shift change, DH came into my room cautiously ecstatic because Alex was improving. His heart rate was down and he seemed to be more comfortable. I agreed that it was time I go back and see Alex, so we decided after shift change, we would go back and see him. We sat there and talked a little about this "scare" and that God answers prayers. At eight, we left the room I had been in and went back into the NICU.
When we got there, they were moving Alex around, trying to do a depth x-ray, to see if there was something else going on. We were taken into the back room and shown that it looked like there was something between his lungs and skin...something that may have caused his actions that day. We went back into Alex's room, told him that we loved him, rubbed his feet, gave his feet and hands kisses. About 15 minutes after we got there, his heart rate jumped to 300 then plummeted to 0. They pushed us to the back of the room and started CPR compressions. We left the room when they called for a code cart.
Sometime during this madness, we were shown that he had a pocket of...something...that the NNP and docs all thought was sepsis. In other words...Alex had a leak in his GI tract and was leaking fluid and air and bacteria into his abdomen. We were told the surgeon was on his way, but they didn't even know if he could do anything for Alex. DH called our families and they all rushed out to the hospital. The nursing staff called Alex's primary nurses and got them out there. As his heart continued to fail and be revived and fail and be revived again, the nurses and NNP all brought couches around for Jason and I to sit on and surrounded us and Alex's door with screens so no one else could see what was going on.
As we were sitting on the couch, clinging to each other DH kept telling me that it was alright. That the sensor wasn't working, that's why it was reading 0. He told me later, he said that so I wouldn't worry. I knew though. I knew what it meant.
It was at this time, that I called out to God. For the most part, this is what I prayed,
"God, if it is Your will, please, please heal Alex. Let him live. Oh God, let him live. I don't want to lose him. But Lord, if it is not Your will to let Alex live, give us the strength to get through this time. Let us have the strength to handle it if he dies."
A few minutes later, Alex's primary NNP came over to us and said, "I think it's time to decide if we are doing things FOR Alex, or doing things TO Alex." DH and I looked at each other and I decided it was time to let Alex go. I don't know how DH felt, but we told the NNP to stop. We stood up and they wheeled the couch into Alex's room. We sat back down and they gave us Alex. They didn't stop using the AMBU bag until we told them to. We sang to Alex. I sang his lullaby to him (words I made up to the traditional lullaby tune). We kissed him, hugged him. We told him we loved him over and over again.
I watched his chest, waiting for him to continue to take breaths. Watched as his little chest rose and fell. And I thought he was gone. I started sobbing only to have it rise and fall again...his true last breath. Then my in laws rushed through the door and the look on my MIL's face was horror. The only thing I could say was, "he's gone," before I started sobbing again. Then my family arrived.
The surgeon arrived about ten or fifteen minutes after Alex was gone. I'm glad. If he had come before, we might have chosen to try and have the surgeon do the surgery. This way, Alex didn't have to die alone, on an operating table. Instead, he got to be held, surrounded by our love when he died.
After that night, I didn't cry again...really cry...until the following Monday. After the funeral...after the dinner...after our friends and family left us. It hit me then that Alex was gone. That all the little details that we had come to accept as part of having Alex, as part of Alex coming home, no longer applied. It didn't matter anymore. I cried harder then than I have ever cried before. But not since. It doesn't happen often, but when I really let go of myself and let myself feel, I get into the state of crying so hard I can't breath.
That is usually when I fall on my knees for God to lessen the pain. Not the memory, not the event. Just the pain of the memory, the pain of the event.
Thank you, for letting me get this off my chest.
The day started out like any other. I got up and fought with myself about going into the hospital, but I reminded myself that every time I see the little guy, my stresses and my worries and my "I don't wannas" fly right out the window. So I got ready and headed out. I was expecting to see him bouncing back from his surgery at this point. After all, this surgery was not as big of a deal as some of h is previous ones. He should be closer to his non-sick, non-recovery from surgery self. In fact, part of me expected the nurses and doctors to have started dialing down the O2 to try and switch him to CPAP.
A 45 minute drive later, I walk into his room to see it dark and the nurse telling me that he had a rough night and that the docs don't want any hands on. Okay, not what I was expecting, but not unusual for Alex. I sat in his darkened room all morning, watching as his oxygen levels dropped and his heart rate got in the upper 100's...close to 200. And I started stressing. After all, this looks like classic Alex when he has pneumonia. That was the only thought I had. He has pneumonia. Or something similar. How could it be any different? We were bringing him home in 2 weeks. Nothing else could be happening. I went down to lunch and was eating and reading, trying to get my stress levels down, when one of the nurses from upstairs found me.
She had been sent down to tell me that Alex wasn't doing well. That he was struggling more and they were doing an x-ray to figure out what was wrong. She helped me to carry my tray up to the NICU waiting room, where I started to finish my lunch, but then one of the neonatal nurse practitioners came in to give me an update. She told me that Alex wasn't doing well and that maybe I should call DH. I had the NNP call DH because I couldn't handle talking to him. He called me on my cell phone when he was walking out to his car (luckily, DH's office was only about 15 min. away from the hospital). He asked me what was going on and I told him that I only knew what the NNP told us, because I was too afraid to go back into Alex's room. I couldn't go in there and deal with the stress of seeing his numbers jump all over the place. DH said that was fine because he would be there soon. About that time, the social worker came in to the waiting room and wanted to know if there was anything I needed. I told her that I was tired and I wanted to rest.
The rest of the afternoon is kind of a blur. DH got to the hospital and saw me briefly before going back to Alex's room. The social worker got me a recovery room to rest in. I remember I napped for a bit. Mostly, I remember just sitting in the room and kind of staring into space. The social worker was really nice and hugged me and told me she was praying for us, but I think it was she who reminded me that what happening was all part of God's plan. She did that by telling me of an Amy Grant song called Breath of Angels. The song itself is about Mary, but some of the parts of it fit with what had happened and what was going on.
Right around shift change, DH came into my room cautiously ecstatic because Alex was improving. His heart rate was down and he seemed to be more comfortable. I agreed that it was time I go back and see Alex, so we decided after shift change, we would go back and see him. We sat there and talked a little about this "scare" and that God answers prayers. At eight, we left the room I had been in and went back into the NICU.
When we got there, they were moving Alex around, trying to do a depth x-ray, to see if there was something else going on. We were taken into the back room and shown that it looked like there was something between his lungs and skin...something that may have caused his actions that day. We went back into Alex's room, told him that we loved him, rubbed his feet, gave his feet and hands kisses. About 15 minutes after we got there, his heart rate jumped to 300 then plummeted to 0. They pushed us to the back of the room and started CPR compressions. We left the room when they called for a code cart.
Sometime during this madness, we were shown that he had a pocket of...something...that the NNP and docs all thought was sepsis. In other words...Alex had a leak in his GI tract and was leaking fluid and air and bacteria into his abdomen. We were told the surgeon was on his way, but they didn't even know if he could do anything for Alex. DH called our families and they all rushed out to the hospital. The nursing staff called Alex's primary nurses and got them out there. As his heart continued to fail and be revived and fail and be revived again, the nurses and NNP all brought couches around for Jason and I to sit on and surrounded us and Alex's door with screens so no one else could see what was going on.
As we were sitting on the couch, clinging to each other DH kept telling me that it was alright. That the sensor wasn't working, that's why it was reading 0. He told me later, he said that so I wouldn't worry. I knew though. I knew what it meant.
It was at this time, that I called out to God. For the most part, this is what I prayed,
"God, if it is Your will, please, please heal Alex. Let him live. Oh God, let him live. I don't want to lose him. But Lord, if it is not Your will to let Alex live, give us the strength to get through this time. Let us have the strength to handle it if he dies."
A few minutes later, Alex's primary NNP came over to us and said, "I think it's time to decide if we are doing things FOR Alex, or doing things TO Alex." DH and I looked at each other and I decided it was time to let Alex go. I don't know how DH felt, but we told the NNP to stop. We stood up and they wheeled the couch into Alex's room. We sat back down and they gave us Alex. They didn't stop using the AMBU bag until we told them to. We sang to Alex. I sang his lullaby to him (words I made up to the traditional lullaby tune). We kissed him, hugged him. We told him we loved him over and over again.
I watched his chest, waiting for him to continue to take breaths. Watched as his little chest rose and fell. And I thought he was gone. I started sobbing only to have it rise and fall again...his true last breath. Then my in laws rushed through the door and the look on my MIL's face was horror. The only thing I could say was, "he's gone," before I started sobbing again. Then my family arrived.
The surgeon arrived about ten or fifteen minutes after Alex was gone. I'm glad. If he had come before, we might have chosen to try and have the surgeon do the surgery. This way, Alex didn't have to die alone, on an operating table. Instead, he got to be held, surrounded by our love when he died.
After that night, I didn't cry again...really cry...until the following Monday. After the funeral...after the dinner...after our friends and family left us. It hit me then that Alex was gone. That all the little details that we had come to accept as part of having Alex, as part of Alex coming home, no longer applied. It didn't matter anymore. I cried harder then than I have ever cried before. But not since. It doesn't happen often, but when I really let go of myself and let myself feel, I get into the state of crying so hard I can't breath.
That is usually when I fall on my knees for God to lessen the pain. Not the memory, not the event. Just the pain of the memory, the pain of the event.
Thank you, for letting me get this off my chest.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
God has it...always
Why do we say, "Well, it's up to God now." or "I'm giving this to you, God." ? Our lives are not ours to control. Saying phrases like that makes it seem like we were in control, up until we give it to God. Instead of saying something like that, you should try to say something like, "I'm giving up the idea of me controlling the situation, God." It makes more sense and it is a lot more accurate.
That being said, that does NOT mean you should sit back and expect a free ride, so to speak. Yes we should pray. And yes, God's Will will win out. But that doesn't mean that God doesn't want us to work towards what we are praying for. Two stories come to mind. You may have heard the first one and the second one is from the movie Facing the Giants (written, produced, and filmed by the same group that did Fireproof).
The first one is of a man who was in an area that had had a lot of flooding. He was up on his roof, praying that God would rescue him. A rescue party in a boat came by, but the man waved them off saying, "God will rescue me." A rescue party in a helicopter came by, but the man said the same thing. Eventually, the water rose and the man was drowned. When he got to heaven, he asked God, "Why didn't you save me? I was praying for it." God replied, "I sent you a boat and a helicopter, but you didn't take either one."
The second story, as I said, is from the movie Facing the Giants. There is a man who walks the halls of the school, praying for the students. He does this each night. One night as the football coach (the main character) was sitting in his office, upset over the way his life was going downhill, this man came in and told the football coach this story: "There were two farmers praying for rain. But only one went out and got his field ready as if it was going to rain. Which do you think was ready when God provided the rain?"
That second story has been my motto since DH made the comment "You are preparing your field for rain." I have worried with trying to get pregnant and starting the medication I needed last time if I was trying to control when I got pregnant. And recently with actively trying (not to get to much TMI, but checking for ovulation patterns, etc.) it has brought up the same concern. But I know that no matter how much I check the ovulation patterns or how much medication I take, if I am to get pregnant, it will happen when God Wills it to happen. NOT when I choose for it to happen. Too many people have recently begun to think that they are in control of what happens, but they are not. None of us are. Which brings me right back around to my first point...we need to give up our idea of us controlling what is going on and let God get on with the grand plan.
And pray. Prayer NEVER hurts.
That being said, that does NOT mean you should sit back and expect a free ride, so to speak. Yes we should pray. And yes, God's Will will win out. But that doesn't mean that God doesn't want us to work towards what we are praying for. Two stories come to mind. You may have heard the first one and the second one is from the movie Facing the Giants (written, produced, and filmed by the same group that did Fireproof).
The first one is of a man who was in an area that had had a lot of flooding. He was up on his roof, praying that God would rescue him. A rescue party in a boat came by, but the man waved them off saying, "God will rescue me." A rescue party in a helicopter came by, but the man said the same thing. Eventually, the water rose and the man was drowned. When he got to heaven, he asked God, "Why didn't you save me? I was praying for it." God replied, "I sent you a boat and a helicopter, but you didn't take either one."
The second story, as I said, is from the movie Facing the Giants. There is a man who walks the halls of the school, praying for the students. He does this each night. One night as the football coach (the main character) was sitting in his office, upset over the way his life was going downhill, this man came in and told the football coach this story: "There were two farmers praying for rain. But only one went out and got his field ready as if it was going to rain. Which do you think was ready when God provided the rain?"
That second story has been my motto since DH made the comment "You are preparing your field for rain." I have worried with trying to get pregnant and starting the medication I needed last time if I was trying to control when I got pregnant. And recently with actively trying (not to get to much TMI, but checking for ovulation patterns, etc.) it has brought up the same concern. But I know that no matter how much I check the ovulation patterns or how much medication I take, if I am to get pregnant, it will happen when God Wills it to happen. NOT when I choose for it to happen. Too many people have recently begun to think that they are in control of what happens, but they are not. None of us are. Which brings me right back around to my first point...we need to give up our idea of us controlling what is going on and let God get on with the grand plan.
And pray. Prayer NEVER hurts.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Warm and Fuzzy
I had a great dream last night, and I think it was all due to the research/reading I did yesterday. See, since DH and I decided to start trying to have a baby I have been a little...obsessed. I want a baby so bad that I'm going through and checking ovulation charts and everything. I know God will give us a baby in His time, but like the quote from Facing the Giants (great movie, by the way, if you haven't seen it!), I am preparing my field for rain.
I had a beautiful little girl in my dream. She was so cute and completely healthy. I woke up this morning feeling so warm and fuzzy. The weird part of my dream (because my dreams ALWAYS have an element of weirdness to them) was that no one knew I was pregnant and DH and I hadn't even picked out a name. *shrug*
Part of me is tempted to say this dream is prophetic, only because I had a similar dream before I found out I was pregnant with Alex, but part of me is afraid of relying on my dream too much, simply because I know the enemy can attach us in our dreams...he had done it to me earlier this year.
That particular dream happened around the six month mark of Alex passing away. I dreamt the hospital called because Alex was miraculously alive, happy, and whole. In my dream, I stood staring at this sleeping year and half old boy (who was very wiggly in bed) and was ecstatic. I was so happy in my dream, that when I woke up and it hit me all over again that Alex was really gone I started crying and saying no.
That being said, I prayed that I wouldn't obsess over that dream and while I remember it and think of it as getting a glimpse of how Alex is in heaven, I don't dwell on it. I think this dream needs to be the same. I don't want to get so wrapped up in the dream baby I saw that when and if I get pregnant, I'm disappointed.
So pray for me, dear readers. And pass it along.
I had a beautiful little girl in my dream. She was so cute and completely healthy. I woke up this morning feeling so warm and fuzzy. The weird part of my dream (because my dreams ALWAYS have an element of weirdness to them) was that no one knew I was pregnant and DH and I hadn't even picked out a name. *shrug*
Part of me is tempted to say this dream is prophetic, only because I had a similar dream before I found out I was pregnant with Alex, but part of me is afraid of relying on my dream too much, simply because I know the enemy can attach us in our dreams...he had done it to me earlier this year.
That particular dream happened around the six month mark of Alex passing away. I dreamt the hospital called because Alex was miraculously alive, happy, and whole. In my dream, I stood staring at this sleeping year and half old boy (who was very wiggly in bed) and was ecstatic. I was so happy in my dream, that when I woke up and it hit me all over again that Alex was really gone I started crying and saying no.
That being said, I prayed that I wouldn't obsess over that dream and while I remember it and think of it as getting a glimpse of how Alex is in heaven, I don't dwell on it. I think this dream needs to be the same. I don't want to get so wrapped up in the dream baby I saw that when and if I get pregnant, I'm disappointed.
So pray for me, dear readers. And pass it along.
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