Della Mae French

August 23, 1929 – March 3, 2012

This week I lost my last living grandparent, my dad’s mom, my granny.  

She had been in a nursing home for six years with Alzheimer’s and just couldn’t keep up the fight any longer.  My mom called me on Saturday to tell me she had passed.  She had been at peace most of the day, sleeping, and all her kids were gathered near.  Hospice had given the kids some signs to look for that would tell them when her actual death was approaching and those things had started to happen.  Swollen and splotchy legs, decreased circulation to her extremities, her toes started to turn purple, breathing was slowing, blood pressure lowering, her pulse increasing.   And then, at 6:05 pm, she opened her eyes, looked at her babies; the children she had given birth to, their spouses and some of her grandbabies.  One last look at her legacy, her family that she loved so, so much and then she was finally able rest.

The Alzheimer’s had taken her from us years before, but sometimes on a good day those who visited her would be treated to little glimpses of the woman she used to be.   She would laugh the laugh we all remember…kind of a cackle.   Her eyes would light up when one of her kids or grandkids walked into the room.   Somewhere inside her, I like to believe she KNEW.   How could a mom ever really forget her babies?   What it was like to hold them, their smells and smiles?  No matter how old they become and what illnesses set in,  since becoming a mom myself and knowing what a powerful bond that is, I simply believe that yes, somewhere, deep, deep down…she FELT their presence.   I cannot imagine it any other way.    

Those thoughts give me comfort, but they also make me sad.   I grieve the loss of my granny but I also can’t help but project forward and think about that time when we all will return to our heavenly Father.  What will that be like to not have my parents on this earth with me?  How does my dad feel?  My mom?  My aunts and uncles?  What will it be like to look into the eyes of my grown children and grandchildren and say goodbye and know that I won’t be seeing them for awhile? 

Yes, those thoughts make me sad and if I allowed myself to dwell too much, I fear I would be consumed, but they are also a gift.  A reminder that we are on this earth for such a short while.   That in the blink of an eye our babies are grown.   It reminds me to have patience…to pray more…to think about eternity and to celebrate the miracle of my salvation.   To have more joy in my life…to embrace everyday.  To hug my kids, Jeremy, my parents, my sister and all those that I love as much as I can.

I am the firstborn of the firstborn.   

Although these last 11 years I’ve lived in Missouri and not able to spend as much time with my family, my granny, as I would have liked, of her grandchildren, I was blessed by her the longest.  I had her for 38 years.  My childhood was made happier because of time spent with her and my papaw.   These are the things I will remember…

When I walked into her house, her face lit up.  My grandpa was normally sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper and she would be flitting around in the kitchen.   She’d see me and my sister and her face just lit up.  “Hi Shug…” (short for sugar) and hugs and kisses every time. 

I remember her voice.  

I remember her deep freezer. 

The sound of the squeaky lid opening and closing, the smell of the garage where it was plugged in.  She lovingly kept it full of ice cream, fudgesicles & popsicles.    We spent many summer Sundays at her house celebrating birthdays, Easter, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day.  On those days we would all run around in the front or back yards.  My aunt and uncles would play with us.   Family get together’s were one of the most important things to her.   I remember the feel of the wind in her front yard, the grass and the shade trees overhead.   Her giant hydrangea bush that we would run around and hide behind and in, full of snowball-like flowers.

I remember her sitting at her card table in the back room playing solitaire or working a jigsaw puzzle.  She taught me how to play solitaire.

I remember the inside of her house and the noise and chaos of everyone talking around the dinner table, arguing, laughing and trying to be heard at once.   At 38, I realize how priceless those days are.  The joy of a big family that all lives in the same town to love and support one another and how blessed I was to have that growing up.

I remember her broccoli-cheese-rice casserole.  How good it was even on the Sundays when she forgot to add one or the other ingredients… 

I remember Christmas and how she almost always cried every year after opening her presents.  She felt so blessed by having her kids and grandkids all around.   She always overbought and “underwrapped”.   After all the presents under the tree were opened there were always the gifts she had bought months earlier and stashed away in a closet somewhere and forgotten about…so they didn’t get wrapped. But then afterwards when she surveyed everyone’s opened packages and she didn’t see something she was looking for… she’d go to the bedroom and dig around and out would come some special dolls, or figurines, or jewelry or other collectible items for all the girls…my mom, my aunts and my sister and me. 

I remember her taking my sister and me to the movies.  E.T., The Fox & the Hound Rocky III.  (Yes, Rocky III)…not a typical movie a grandma would take her two elementary aged granddaughters to see, but for some reason she took us.  I’m sure there were others but those are the ones I remember. 

I remember that she never forgot my birthday, or any of her kids and grandkids birthdays.   It’s not the gifts that were given that stick with me…it’s the fact that she never forgot…for as long as she could help it.

I remember that I was loved.  

I remember the days when we all suspected something was “not right”; the forgetfulness increasing, getting lost out in the car while driving, her personality was changing and making her angry & sometimes mean.  This was not her.  

I remember the heartbreak of my dad, his sister and brothers when they took her to the nursing home and she realized her kids were leaving and she had to stay.  

I will never forget the day her kids brought her to my papaw’s funeral.  She had been in the nursing home for awhile and didn’t realize he had been sick and in the hospital.  My aunts and mom got her ready and once she arrived she just didn’t understand why she was there.  Someone would lovingly tell her that papaw had passed but after a few minutes, she would forget again.  Every time she heard the news, it was heartbreaking as she was taken to that place where grief is the most raw and untamed.  Her little face would immediately change and she would sob fresh tears as she heard the news of her husband, of over 55 years, dying for the first time in her mind.  It is that day I remember so vividly, that day of my papaw’s funeral and the pain on her face that make me happy she is with the Lord.  That she is with my papaw, and her sisters and brothers again. 

I remember the day I took Chance and Luci to visit her in the nursing home.  She loved babies and kids.    Even though she couldn’t speak coherently most of the time we were there, she smiled and laughed at my kids.  She held them and babbled to them.  She managed to say how cute they were.  She took Luci’s little shoe and tucked it away inside her shirt…perhaps to keep for a souvenir to remember her by, or maybe she thought it would keep us all around a bit longer…a stall tactic to keep us from leaving. 

Yes, I think she knew deep down that these little people are a part of her.  I wish they could have known her, and she them.  I wish she could see my kids now and kiss their sweet cheeks and call them “Shug” like she did me all those years. 

Chance Michael…the first born, of the first born, of the first born, who shares the name of her son, my daddy.

Luci Bella who has her blue eyes and loves to work puzzles.
Anni Mae who carries part of her name.

Her first Great-Grandchildren.

The next generation of her family, her legacy.

A legacy that will hopefully love the Lord as much as she did and make her proud. 

I miss her.  I’ve missed her for awhile now…but this is a new kind of miss.  The kind of miss when you know you will never see someone’s face again this side of heaven.

I am comforted that there is a God in Heaven and she is there with him waiting for all of us. 

I can just hear her now…”Hi Shug!”

Plug.

Recently I was asked to guest post on my good friend Rachel T's blog, Thriving Home.  http://thrivinghomeblog.com/2012/02/sewing-buttons/

If you haven't checked it out yet, please do.  You'll find all the goodies you need to help your home and family thrive.   Recipes, Crafty ideas, Spritual Nuggets...it's all there.  

Thanks Friend, for inspiring us all to thrive!

Blessed & Complete

Super Bowl Sunday.  Call me crazy but I'm sitting here looking again at all the wonderful Christmas cards and pictures we received from family and friends.  I'm for sure not one for timeliness these days but I wanted to share with everyone that even though I couldn't get our act together this year to send cards, we LOVED getting yours.   We loved seeing all the smiles and well wishes and they meant so much to us.  

In the spirit of the New Year...or Super Bowl...or something...I decided to do a little 2011 recap...in February. 

2011, Anni Mae joined our family.  It's a strange and wonderful thing to say our family is complete.  God provided a new home for the Gilion 5.  Twelve days after we spent our first night on Madison Creek, Anni was born.   We celebrated our first Easter here with her and our parents.  We are so thankful for two sets of grandparents who have been married over 40 years.  Our kids are loved by their Papaw, Gee Gee, Nana & Papa. 

Chance & Luci turned 3.
They are smart, silly & sassy. 

Our cup is full, running over.

In 2011 we were blessed. 

We are complete.

Thank you Lord. 

We await you in 2012.

May you all be blessed in 2012. 
Thank you for sharing in our lives.

Sewing Buttons.

Several months ago, my husband Jeremy pointed out that he had a couple of shirts that needed buttons sewn on. I remember looking at him like, "yeah right, I'll get to that someday." (Did I mention I have three kids, three and under, one of which was born this year, 10 days after we moved into a new house, which we are still in the process of remodeling and I still don’t have completely unpacked…8 months later?)

I didn't think much of his request for me to sew on these buttons and quite frankly remember being slightly offended that he would even ask me with all I had going on. He for sure had many other shirts to wear. He wasn't running around naked and it just wasn't a priority to me in the grand scheme of things I had going on day to day.

A few more times since, he has patiently pointed out that his shirt needed a button sewn on and would I have time to do that for him? Again, I just blew him off as for awhile I had no idea where my needle and thread even were and did not have the motivation to dig around in storage for my sewing things. In the meantime, I've made meals for friends with growing families, served in my ministry group, answered emails and worked on projects for my mothers of multiples club and who knows how many other things outside of my own home, but had still not sewn on his buttons.

Now, it's not like he was asking me to re-invent thread or fashion a needle out of raw steel. It was 2 buttons on 2 shirts. And it's also not like I've done nothing else to care for him and our children in the last 3 months but as of last night I had still NOT sewn these buttons on. The shirts were still hanging in the same spot at the front of his closet where he had left them months before.

I believe it is God’s calling for us to serve Him by serving one another. However, for me it has always also been a blessing. A way to make myself feel good. A way to gain some recognition that maybe I don't always get at home when I serve my husband and kids. So I’m writing from the perspective that it is a privilege to serve others. That being said, I have started to realize that many times I serve others and, indirectly myself, at the expense of my family. And for those of you whom I have served a meal, or helped in anyway...I love doing that, but I think you'll understand where I'm coming from.

This morning, in the midst of reflecting for the New Year, I saw Jeremy’s shirts and it hit me like a ton of bricks. I don't have a right to serve others outside of our home until I first serve my husband and my family. It's not a matter of being selfish or slacking off or being lazy and not serving others. It's a matter of priorities.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I want my kids to learn that life is NOT all about them; that we are called to sacrifice for others. I know there will be times when God truly calls us as a family to sacrifice in order to serve another family or our church. But when, consistently, I'm asking my husband and my kids to sacrifice and my home and family life suffer because I'm just too busy to be the patient mom and wife God calls me to be, that’s a problem. 

Now this button situation is a small thing but there are so many other examples, it's sad to say. I realize how many other times I really do put other's and my own needs, ahead of my family’s. I can try to blame my busy-ness on serving others and being over committed but that really is only half of it for me. Satan uses the ruse that somehow what I’m doing is serving my family. But there are a hundred little distractions of my own making in my own home that pull me from my family. Let’s be honest. Did my husband and kids really benefit from or truly appreciate the six full tubs of Christmas decorations I spent uncountable hours dragging out and around the house? My time would have been better spent snuggling with one or all of my kids, reading the Word and maybe, just maybe, I would have had time to sew on my husband’s buttons.

As a mom of young kids, I’m realizing I need to give myself grace for this season in our lives with young kids. We moms need to not feel guilty about saying NO to service opportunities...we need to help each other to stay focused on God, our husbands, our kids and yes OURSELVES. But I also have to ask more discipline of myself to say NO to some of my selfish desires like excessive fretting and busyness around the house. I confess my house is an idol for me in many ways.

I know there is a certain amount of stress and craziness that comes with this stage of life and having small kids, but I still can't help but think that God does not intend for things to be this way. If I don't have time to sew 2 buttons on my husband’s shirt or have a quiet time with the Lord or take my kids outside to play on a gorgeous day without stressing about the things I should be doing inside, then I am just too busy.

That means this year...

*I will only put out 3 tubs of Christmas decorations instead of 6.

*I've got to be OK that I bought Anni, my 8 month old, store bought baby food here and there (organic, but store bought).

*I need to have fewer clothes in my closet and my kid’s closets to choose from to wear each day. The time I spend trying to decide what to wear and changing clothes is SERIOUSLY absurd! 

*I'm taking boxes of things to goodwill weekly instead of letting them pile up for the sake of having a garage sale where I might make $200 bucks but spend 40+ hours getting ready and a whole weekend for the sale. Why is it that there can be such satisfaction in a garage sale when there really is so little profit or return on time investment? I'll take the tax deduction instead and a completely clutter free garage and storage area; no matter how much I think I can sell something for. Or I'll just put it on Craigslist.

*I'm throwing away the pile of cooking/home decor/home improvement mags and torn out catalog pages that I collect because they have good ideas in them that I want to try around the house because they are only making me feel inadequate, unaccomplished and overwhelmed.

*For the most part, I'm staying off blogs and Pinterest for the same reason. I have enough unfinished things around the house to keep me busy all year. I don't need any new ideas (insert recipes/fashion tips/decor) to make me feel unsatisfied with the way things are in my home.

*I'm saying NO more, or at least not being the one to step up and volunteer for things, no matter how small they seem or how much I think it would be fun, or how well I think I could manage a project etc.

*I'm giving myself and my family the grace to SAY NO to anything NEW...for a whole year.

*I'm staying off FB.

*I want to spend more time with fewer people.

I'm taking baby steps.

So today...I sewed on buttons.

Love Letter to My Son

Dear Chance, 

Everyday you are talking more and more. Growing more and more and just becoming more aware of the world around you. We are having conversations. Here’s one from tonight.

You said, “Those are girls on there, momma.” (as a group of girls were singing on TV.)

I said, “What do you think about those girls, Chance.” 

You said, “I think she’s pretty, momma.” (as the TV showed just one of the girls)

And she was pretty.

And you sounded so cute, and sweet, and innocent. Just making a statement in your little boy voice.

And I realized in a split second that one day you’re going to come home from college, or a new job, and look at me and say, “I think she’s pretty, mom.” And that will be the girl you’re going to marry. 

And once again I’m reminded of how much I love you. My bubba. I could never have imagined what it would be like to be a mommy to a little boy. How much I would love it. Being your mom has been the best surprise God could have ever given me. I’m not sure I’m getting it right. In fact most days I’m pretty sure I’m screwing it up pretty good. But I love being your mommy, more than you could ever know.    

Tonight was a good night. You were tired from traveling this weekend. Daddy gave you a bath and then you just wanted to snuggle on the couch. You let me hug on you as much as I wanted. Already, as you near your 3rd birthday there are days when the hugs seem few and far between. You are growing up so fast. I wonder how will I ever look at you and not always see my little boy. How do parents do that? Look at their grown kids and not just see the little people you used to be running around in the house?

I’m reminded tonight of how good your little heart is. I pray that God is already at work in there. I pray for that little girl out there, who might be sitting with her mommy, like you sat with me tonight. That someday she will look at you and say…”I think he’s the one, mom.” It seems so far away, but yet I know it will be here in the blink of an eye. But for now…I just want you to know how much I love you. My heart is full and completely overflowing with love for you, and Luci, and Anni and your Daddy.

Love,
Momma

Pinch Me.

I had an opportunity to share our story awhile back in a different forum. Ferring Pharmaceuticals, a company manufacturing one of the fertility drugs we used to conceive our kids, sponsored an essay contest called My Little Miracles. Participants were asked to share the stories of their miracle children as a way to provide hope and encouragement to other women who desire to become a mom. The winning essay received $10,000 in scholarship money for their children. I decided to submit ours. The deadline was December 31, 2010.  We didn't win, but I was thankful for the opportunity to sit and reflect back on our journey and get a bit more of my thoughts down in writing. Maybe my kids will be thankful in the years to come to have more of their history recorded. I share it with you now. Thanks for reading!

 Pinch Me

I rolled over and looked at my husband of 5 years.

”Good morning, “I said. 

“I saw our kids in a dream last night,” He replied.

“You did?” I asked, surprised.  He didn’t often talk about our future children, or lack thereof.

“What did they look like?” I asked.

He said, “I turned around in my dream and there they were, two little kids running around and playing.  They looked about two years old; a brown haired little boy and a curly red-headed little girl. Twins.”

As a wife, an infertile one at that, hearing that my husband was dreaming about our yet–to-even-be-conceived children, that he loved them already as much as I did, and watched them playing in his sleep made my heart skip.   We had already been hitched to the infertility wagon for four of our five years of marriage.  

I knew my husband wanted kids as badly as I did, but he just didn’t talk about it much.  It wasn’t part of his every waking thought like it was for me.  Don’t get me wrong, Jeremy is my rock.  We were always on the same page when it came time for treatments and a new cycle to start, but at times, no matter how much I knew Jeremy was always there with me, it was a lonely road.

So that’s what made it even more profound to hear those sweet words about the children he dreamed we would have some day.  To have that confirmation once again, that we were in this together.  He longed for them too.  He simply was the strong one.  He kept it together most of the time, so that I could fall apart regularly.

Jeremy and I were married March 24, 2002.  Like many couples, we completed our first full year of wedded bliss and decided we would simply “stop preventing” and see what happened.  What happened was nothing.   From 2003 until 2006 we dabbled in infertility treatments with my OB, on-again-off-again in the midst of starting and closing a business, moving to a new city, changing jobs and just living life.   In 2006, finally settled in our new home in Columbia, Missouri we found a Reproductive Endocrinologist and were ready to get more serious. 

I still remember our initial IUI with clomid.  We happened to be out of town the night I needed to take my first ever trigger shot of HCG.  Jeremy was going to give it to me.  So, bent over the bed in our hotel room bare-bottomed, I called my best friend (an RN) for instruction and moral support.  She proceeded to give us step by step instructions over the phone and walked us through the process.  I still smile just thinking about that sweet comic relief!  How we must have looked to a fly on the wall that night.  But that cycle, and 3 more IUI’s with clomid at increasing doses followed and still nothing.

That early morning conversation where Jeremy shared his dream took place sometime in 2007.  To be honest, I can’t remember the exact date, but I will never forget that dream.  It was the sign from God we needed to nudge us down a road towards more aggressive treatments.  Dr. Wilshire, my RE suggested another series of IUI’s but this time with gonadotropin injections.

Having PCOS, I was a great responder.  Quantity was never a problem for me.  In fact, it was a fine line we walked each cycle trying to find the right dosing that would provide quality eggs, while not over stimulating me; risking high order multiples or OHSS.    But even with the great response, four more failed IUI’s and a laparoscopic surgery later we were still clinging to only a dream. 

 IVF wasn’t a no-brainer for us.  At one point Jeremy and I had drawn our line in the sand for what treatments we were willing to pursue and it stopped short of IVF.  But as we felt our options for a biological baby slipping through our fingers we became willing to move our line further back.  Prior to proceeding it took a lot of prayer before we felt a peace about IVF…but the peace did come and we moved forward.   

On our 6^th wedding anniversary, March 24, 2008 I had my baseline ultrasound and started Lupron shots after a celebratory dinner with Jeremy.  Like in my previous IUI’s, I again stimmed with gonadotropins, but this time Dr. Wilshire added Menopur to the cycle.   April 14, 2008 we had 13 eggs retrieved, 8 fertilized and by day 5 we had 5 blastocysts.  I started my Endometrin suppositories and on April 19, two perfect little blastocysts were transferred back to me.  We had three more good quality blasts that could be frozen.

April 28, the day of our first beta, I went in early for the blood draw.  Jeremy and I decided we wanted to be together for the results so we planned a lunch date where we would call the office for the results.  I drove to his office and picked him up but before I could get there my phone rang, it was the office; I didn’t answer.  Jeremy got in the car and listened to the message. 

“Hi, this is Katie. I have good news, call us back.”

Jeremy called back while I drove.  I could hear Katie through the phone say “It’s POSITIVE.”  I almost wrecked the car on the way to lunch.  That day was one of the best days of my life, until May 23, when we saw TWO heartbeats.  TWINS! 

Pregnancy was a breeze until 21 weeks, when I went on bed rest for a shortened cervix and premature labor.  Jeremy made me scrambled eggs with ham and cheese for breakfast every morning before he left for work and reminded me to stay off the internet.  My perinatologist, Dr. Grant, put me back on Endometrin as well as some other medicines to help control the contractions.  By the grace of God and the support of my medical team, family and dear friends my babies remained snuggled inside me for 9 more weeks.

At 30 weeks I left my weekly fetal non-stress test at Dr. Grant’s office feeling great; both babies having passed with flying colors.  “Yes! Week 31 here I come,” I thought.  I went straight to my OB’s office for my bi-weekly appointment and was in shock as he told me he suspected I was becoming pre-ecclamptic although my symptoms were atypical.  He sent me immediately to labor and delivery for more labs.  The on-call OB came in and instead of giving me my results said she was ordering steroid shots.  That’s when I knew I was about to meet my babies for the first time.

Thanks to my OB’s foresight I had time to get two rounds of steroid shots 24 hours apart and they were able to hold off delivering the babies until the meds were in my system for 48 hours and had time to work their magic.  We had time to visit the NICU and consult with a  neo-natalogists at our hospital, Dr. O’Connor.  He told us not to expect to hear our babies cry upon delivery but not to worry, they would get them on the vent as soon as they were born.  He assured us that 30-weekers had statistically very good outcomes. 

October 30, 2008, at 30 weeks 3 days I was wheeled into the OR and after I was prepped Jeremy joined me at my side.  Within seconds I heard a baby crying.  It happened so fast and was so surreal I couldn’t register what I was hearing.  I thought maybe there was another delivery taking place in the room next door.  I had to ask, “Is that MY baby?”  It was.  Chance Michael was born at 12:07 pm, defying the odds he screamed with everything he could muster from his 3 pound 8 ounce body.   It was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.  His head was covered with brown hair. 

At 12:08, another cry when his sister Luci Bella entered the world. She weighed 2 pounds 13 ounces.  Even on that tiny little head we could see the wisps of red hair.  My heart again skipped, much like that morning in 2007, as I remembered Jeremy’s dream.  “Pinch me,” I thought.

5 ½ weeks later, after a stint in the NICU, Chance and Luci joined us at home at 36-weeks gestational age.   Today they are two years old. They are Joy.  They are Perfect.  Complete.  Beautiful.  Smart. Healthy.  Ornery.  Mischievous.  Miraculous.  Chance still has brown hair.  Luci, taking after her momma at the same age, still has very little hair but what she has is the most beautiful shade of red, just like Jeremy’s.  The curls remain to be seen but her daddy knows they are there.

March 2, 2010 two of our remaining three frozen embryos were transferred back to their “mommy house.”  March 11 we were blessed with another miracle; the first of two positive beta’s.   Unfortunately, at our 6 and 7 week ultrasound there was only one gestational sac, and no yolk or heartbeat seen within.  I miscarried on April 3.   We hurt and love and miss those babies that we never got to meet but they are still miracles to us.

August 12, 2010 we transferred our last remaining embryo, conceived on the same day as Chance and Luci.   We are thrilled to be expecting another miracle on April 30, 2011.  As of this writing I am 21 weeks pregnant with our daughter and all is well.  It’s amazing to me every time I think about the fact that I can have babies 2 ½ years apart that were all conceived at the same time.  And that one of those babies who has been asleep in a freezer waiting for us that same amount of time is now alive and healthy and growing inside me.  That is a miracle. 

To you mothers-yet-to-be, whose hearts I still cry for and minister too any time God allows me; I believe Menopur in our IVF cycle played a HUGE role in our success and why we had such quality embryos.  After 5 years of trying, that cycle was the first and only time we used Menopur.  It was the extra boost to the gonadotropins my eggs needed to mature before retrieval.   Don’t be afraid to ask questions about different treatment protocols.  Don’t give up hope.  And, as much as I cringe saying it, do anything you can to make this ride with your husband while you’re waiting for your miracle as enjoyable as possible.  Take a trip…volunteer…drink some wine…see a movie…talk to God…sleep in…stay up late…make love because you want to…make it count.  

As for me, if I knew then what I know now, I wish I could say I would do some things differently; that I would ask Dr. Wilshire to use the Menopur or agreed to IVF sooner.  But today looking at my kids, my two-year old twins, my brown haired little boy and my red headed little girl; I can’t say that.  I wouldn’t change a thing.   Yes, my road to conception was long and difficult.  Yes, my pregnancy was complicated.  But we have Chance and Luci as a result of our waiting and tweaking and trying.  Conception was at the perfect time so that the exact egg and sperm combinations would meet to conceive them.  Any other combination at any other time would not have conceived them.   We might have had another baby sooner, but it wouldn’t be them; those babies that Jeremy dreamed about over a year before they were conceived. 

Miracles at conception.

Miracles at birth, survival and perfection at 30 weeks.  

Miracles every day I look at them giggling, running, crying…

And as I sit here and feel my third little miracle squirming and kicking inside me, eager to meet her big Bubba and Sister…I say to myself, “Pinch Me.”

The Color Brown.

I'm feeling time slipping away.  I'm realizing that I'm not documenting or capturing the hundreds of moments that happen everyday with my kids, as well as with this pregnancy so I wanted to take some time to write some things to each of my kids today...just so that they know where we are at with life right now, at this moment.  

Chance, today you are 2 years, 3 months and 26 days old.  My goodness how time has flown.   You weigh about 35 pounds.  You are growing taller every day and losing more and more of your baby fat.   You've been potty trained like such a big boy for awhile now, with just a few little accidents here and there.  You peed on the potty standing up for the first time last night while daddy helped you.  

Your favorite lunch is peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  Everyday when I ask you what you want for lunch you say "pnut bud-daah" and would eat it everyday if mommy would let you.  Mommy ate a lot of peanut butter while she was pregnant with you, but also used to take peanut butter sandwiches to school for her lunch almost everyday growing up.  So you get it honestly.  Right now during mommy's pregnancy with baby sister, her favorite ice cream is Peanut Butter Panic. 

Daddy taught you how to shake hands and say..."Nice to meet you" and also how to do "fist bumps".   It is the cutest thing ever to see.  At night when we put you in bed, you like to give us fist bumps (but still hugs and kisses too...) and then a few fist bumps to Nana, Papa, Papaw and Gee Gee's pictures before going off to sleep. 

Your best little friend is still your "doggie" lovey.  We still only let you have it during sleeping times but most days you will sneak into your bed and grab it and run around the house with it.  You love it.  You have also recently grown attached to "puppy", "blue bear" and "sheepy".   You have two favorite blankies...your polkadot one and your blue bear one.   You can now climb in and out of your bed, but have yet to try it during times when you're supposed to be sleeping...only when you're playing in your room.    At bedtime, you don't want anyone to help you get into your bed, you like to climb in and out on your own and will say..."no help chance.." if we try to help you.    Mommy is hoping you don't attempt to escape during naps or bedtime anytime soon.  She's not ready to say bye-bye to the cribs yet.   Most of the time you wake up first in the morning...and then all your talking, fussing etc. wakes up Luci eventually. 

You've started calling me "Mom" just these last few days.  I'm not sure where you heard that from since you've always called me "Mommy".  It's a bittersweet reminder of how big you're getting.   You are becoming daddy's little buddy and will always be mommy's "bubba".

You love balls.  All balls.  Basketballs, baseballs, footballs etc.  You have a great little arm on you.  Really good at throwing things...many times I have to remind you of what you can and cannot throw around the house. 

You like jumping off the furniture and are getting braver and braver everyday.  You can jump off the ground with both feet now...and sometimes when dancing actually end up doing these little bunny hops that are so funny.  You love music, so does mommy and Luci, and we like to have dance parties. 

You love wearing silly hats and putting things on your head (buckets, boxes, baskets etc.) and running around the room getting attention and laughs from everyone.

Your favorite color is brown.  Everytime we sit down to color whether it's with markers or crayons you go straight for the brown one first.   I read that people who prefer the color brown are often conventional and orderly.   Conventional?  No.  Orderly?   Yes.  You love to stack and line up your blocks, cars, trains etc.  One day recently you and daddy were having guy time at the hardware store and before he knew it, you had stacked up all the smoke detectors that were boxed up on the display in one big stack that was taller than you!   You are such a good little helper.  Right now, mommy and daddy are getting the house ready for a move and we've been packing.  You love taking trips with daddy in his "big truck" to the storage unit.  You love to help with anything we ask you to do...sweeping, cleaning up toys, unloading the dishwasher, unloading the groceries...cleaning up spills with the kitchen towels.  You are just so cute scampering around to get things done.  

You are such a joy to daddy and mommy.  I love the way you say "belly button".  It makes me smile inside and out.  I love your new dance...we call it the "monkey dance".   I love your walk and your run.  You remind mommy of her Papaw French.  Broad shoulders, slight belly, shorter legs and just strutting around with your chest puffed out like such a little man.    I love your belly laughs.   I love hearing you talk to Luci and watching the two of you play together.  

I can't wait to see how you love and play with your baby sister.   You love her already I can tell.  You rub mommy's belly and say "baby sister in there..."   

You love to play with your cars and trains, love movie night with mommy, daddy & Luci,  love spotting airplanes, water towers, balloons and the moon up in the sky.  

You and Luci enjoy going to church and are starting to talk more and more about Jesus all the time.  Some of your favorite books and stories are the ones about "baby Jesus".    In January you were able to move from the 1 year old walkers room to the 2-year old room.  You love it because there is a train table in there to play with.  Mommy was a little nervous when you first went into that room with all the "big kids" but you really like it.  Very rarely do you cry when mommy and daddy drop you off at your class.   We learned that you like it best when we let you walk into the room on your own instead of picking you up and handing you to the teacher through the door.  Sometimes I will catch you saying to yourself..."Mommy will come back and get me..." as we head to your classroom.  This brough mommy to tears the first time I heard it because you were remembering the time I told you I would always come back and get you.  You were reassuring your little self that everything would be okay and mommy & daddy would be back.  

Chance, mommy loves you so, so much.  I never could picture what it would be like to be a mommy to a baby boy.  I always knew I wanted girls...but never knew if I would be able to relate to a little boy or if I would be a good boy mommy.  I am so, so blessed to  have you in my life.  I LOVE being your mommy.  I love the way it feels when you run into my arms and I grab you and hug you and squeeze your little chubby boy body.  I love your smell and kissing your chubby little cheeks.  I love your big toothy smile.  Your whole face just lights up.    I just love you.    Daddy loves you too...   Mommy and Daddy will always be here for you.  Whatever you need...whenever.   We love you.   

30 Weeks 3 Days...Milestones.

I couldn't let today go by without posting.  Today is certainly a milestone.  I'm not sure if my kids will truly ever understand what a milestone today is.   Today I am 30 weeks and 3 days pregnant with our third child, our healthy daughter, which is still unfortunately nameless, but I am loving more and more everyday.
Today is the day, during my pregnancy with Chance and Luci, that I have birth to them via c-section at 12:07 and 12:08pm.  I continue to be in awe of our wonderful Lord for his protection and provision and strength and all that he carried me through during that first pregnancy and for my two completely healthy miracles.  But also, for all that he has spared me from during this pregnancy.  I still can't believe how uncomplicated and enjoyable and wonderful these first 7 1/2 months have been...and how quickly they've flown by.

Although I want this little girl to gain the full benefit of 40 weeks inside mommy, and I certainly don't take for granted the miracle of a healthy birth at any gestation, I can't help but also feel like from here on out it's "gravy".    It's so odd to me every time I feel this baby move I think about what it was like when I held my tiny little twins.  It's an odd conflict.  I know she's so much better inside the womb, in ways I can never fully understand.  I know she is happy and content.  But to me, in my claustrophobic world, I just feel like she should be out of there.  I know what a baby looks like at this stage.  Perfect.  I can't explain it but it just seems strange that there is this tiny little perfect baby in there just hanging out.  Before Chance and Luci were born, although I've always believed life begins at conception, I think my mind somehow didn't quite understand the development of babies in utero.  That maybe they didn't really look like normal little babies.   I mean those ultrasound pics don't really do them justice.  They do look a little foreign/outer space-ish.  Maybe God didn't put the finishing touches on them until right before they popped out on their due dates.  

How silly that sounds, I know.   But now I know that even as I sit here, at 30 weeks 3 days, my little girl is perfectly formed, still in the womb, fearfully and wonderfully made.   And I'm so thankful for each and every day she stays there from here on out until I see her beautiful face.   

For now, here is her most recent pic from last weeks appointment. 29 weeks 5 days.

I Love My Mommy.

Luci, this post is just to document some of the things you are learning and doing and saying right now.    I never want to forget how sweet and fun you are at this age...so just writing a few things down.

Today you are 2 years, 3 months and 18 days old.   You and Chance, baby sister and daddy are the true joys of my life.   I thank God for you everyday.

You are the sweetest natured little girl...but becoming more independent and strong willed each day.  Just like mommy.   You love to snuggle, read, color, play with stickers, and have girl time.  Mommy and daddy just recently started taking you and Chance out separately.  Mommy takes you out for errands and "girl time" and daddy takes Chance out for "guy time".  You love being one-on-one with us.  Not something you've gotten to do very much in your little life.  Mommy loves it too.   Earlier today, I told you we were going out for "girl time" and you're response was "I want to go to Hobby Lobby!".  That's mommy's girl.  I'm teaching you right!  We didn't go to Hobby Lobby this time, just Hyvee but I still love being able to hang out with just you.  I see a different side of you that I don't get to see when Chance is around.  

Later this evening, after we got home, mommy was busy packing some things as we are getting ready to move into our new house.  You were singing in the background while you were playing with stickers.  I had sort of tuned out your "background" noise but all at once I realized what you were singing...  You're own little made up song.  "I Love my Mommy!"...."I Love my Mommy!"  over and over again.  This was the first time I've ever heard you say you loved me, without mommy asking you first if you did.  It brought me to tears.  Such a sweet, sweet gift and blessing that I immediately thanked God for.   I love you too, sweet girl.  You are such a joy and light in our lives.  It's hard for mommy to imagine having another little girl who is as sweet as you. 

You love music.  You have such a great rhythm.   We can be out shopping or at a restaurant and if you hear music, before I know it your little body is just moving to the beat.  You can't really help it.  There is just something in you that feels the groove and goes with it.  Doesn't really matter where we are or who else is around watching.  Mommy loves that you like music.  She loves it too.  I have been singing to you for a long time and now you sing with me.  Your favorite song is probably "Jesus Loves Me..."  but you also like Itsy Bitsy Spider, Twinkle Twinkle, This little Light of Mine, All the Fish and a few more.  At times you will break out into a medley of all these songs where you'll sing one of two lines of each but blend them all together.  Like there are just so many things you want to sing and so little time so you just make up your own.    You like to play with your musical instruments, especially the guitar.  Maybe you will learn to play the big guitar some day. 

You are so smart.  You know most of your colors, how to match things...socks...pictures...etc.  You can sing your ABC's.  You can count to 10 but for some reason like to skip the number 3 and 4.   Your talking and sentances and vocabulary are amazing.   There is not much you don't say or pick up on and repeat. 

You are potty trained with very few accidents and finally got over your fear of pooping.  We have been through a few battles during times when you were afraid to poop because you thought it was going to hurt.  One day you and Chance were side by side on your pottys and you were having a big of a hard time.  Chance leaned over and patted you on the back and said.."It's ok Luci..."  and you brushed his arm off and yelled..."NO CHANCE, It's not OKAY!"   I couldn't believe it.  I laughed so hard...but I still felt bad that you were having such a hard time.  I think I finally convinced you that it won't hurt everytime you have to go #2.  One day as we were walking into the bathroom, you were being so brave and saying to yourself "It's not gonna hurt, me" out loud.  It almost made mommy cry to hear how you were trying so hard to reassure yourself for the task at hand.   You have just recently started going pee on the "big potty" which makes running errands and going out to dinner much easier.  Don't have to drag the froggy potty around quite so much!  

You are going to be such a good big sister.  I know you will be a good little helper to mommy too.   You like to rub on mommys tummy and talk and sing to baby sister.

You are a true beauty.  I don't say that because you are my daughter, but you are just beautiful.  Your light creamy skin just glows, your eyes are such a pretty shade of blue and your red hair, that could only come from daddy.   You are just stunning.   I do keep hoping you will grow more hair soon.  Mommy still has to put lots of bows on headbands since you still don't have enough hair to put in a barrett!   But short or long hair, Daddy will have his hands full when you start dating.

You are starting to show more of your temper.  Some might say it's the temper of a true red-head but I know better...it comes from Mommy.  Daddy is the calmest, gentlest person.  He is so patient with you and Chance.  Mommy is the one with the temper, so you get it from me.   We butt heads quite a bit at times...Mommy is learning more, and praying more about how to teach you and love you during the times when you are acting a bit too much like her. 

You are creative. 

You love to go Bye-Bye and usually start saying "I WANNA GO BYE-BYE" the minute mommy gets you up in the morning.  You like walking through stores like a big girl.  No riding in carts or strollers for you anymore althoug sometimes mommy doesn't have a choice but to "strap you in something" when she's by herself.  But I'm trying to give you more freedom to explore and grow.

This morning, we were eating off your "rainbow" striped plates and you said very plainly..."God made the rainbow."   Yes he did baby, girl.  It makes mommy so happy that you are starting to recognize God's big world and creation and that you love reading stories about Baby Jesus, Moses and Mary.   At Christmas time, we were hanging ornaments on the tree and mommy pulled one out of Santa Clause and you said...so seriously..."There's Moses!" when I hung it on the tree.  It cracked mommy up.  It took almost the whole two weeks leading up to Christmas for you to learn that Santa was not Moses.  Everytime you saw Santa, you called him Moses.

You are just growing up so fast...and changing and becoming more fun everyday. 

I love you, my beautiful girl.  I will always be here for you.  I pray daddy will always be here for all of us.   Thank you for lighting up my life everyday.  

Becoming a Lady in Waiting

This morning I was blessed to be able to share a bit of my life's journey with the women of The Crossing Church.  Below is the transcript of my talk.  I know I've shared some of these details in bits and pieces in various blog posts over time, but here is a bit more details of the story God has been writing with my life.

I first joined Women’s Bible Study at The Crossing in September 2005. To this day, I can still recount many of the Hearts of Women who have spoken before me. I can’t tell you in words what a blessing it has been in my life to hear so many of your stories and how they have touched and impacted me over the years. This truly is one of my favorite things about Women’s Bible Study. So, what a privilege I feel it is now to be able to share some of what God has done as He has written and continues to write the story of my life.


I was born in Louisville, KY and was raised by a loving mom and dad who tried to teach me morals although I wasn’t raised in a Christian home. We attended church sporadically and during one brief spurt of churchgoing when I was a junior in High School, I was baptized because I had never been and thought it might be a good thing to check off the list, if you know what I mean. But I never really knew Jesus and what it truly meant to follow Him and am sad to say that my life really didn’t change very much. The terms Sin and Grace and Holy Spirit just seemed like words to me and I never understood much about any of it. I never really met any Christians I thought were any fun and none of the churches I attended ever made being a Christian seem very attractive to me. So I chose to make my own plan for my life with little regard for what God wanted for me. In fact I can’t remember once ever asking Him.

To give you more perspective on my personality, I’ve always been what could be described as Type A…a go-getter…driven…goal oriented…a do-er. God blessed me academically as well as professionally but I took way too much credit for my life. As soon as I had accomplished one aspect of my plan I was on to the next. There were very few things I set out to achieve that I was not successful at. I graduated from the University of Louisville with a degree in Marketing at 22, bought my first house all by myself, got engaged and married within a year of graduating. My plans were moving right along according to schedule. When it came time to have children, no children would come. Four years later, it would have been convenient to blame the failure of my marriage on the lack of children we produced. A more accurate explanation was that our marriage was not centered on God, we were not attending church, I was young and selfish, felt that I was entitled to happiness, wasn’t willing to even try to make things work and figured basically that if I wasn’t going to be a mom, why should I bother with staying married? So I checked out. I’m not proud of that. I dealt with guilt from that decision for quite a while...but God has still been able to use that part of my story for His Glory.

Not long after my 27th birthday in 2000, during the time when I was probably farthest from God, I was still living in Louisville and traveled to Joplin for work where I met Jeremy in a bar. God’s hand was on me that night and I thank him every day that Jeremy is the kind of man that he is because that chance meeting could have just as easily ended in disaster. I was a prime target for disaster. But God protected me, He already knew this man He would have for me and as He would have it, we began dating. After about a year of a long distance relationship, I moved to Joplin. We were engaged at Christmas 2001 and married March 24th 2002. Although we met under less than ideal circumstances, God was working in our lives to draw us closer to Him. Jeremy was raised by a family deeply rooted in their faith. He had a quiet, not in your face, faith about him that I loved right away although he wasn’t active with any church at the time. I began developing a relationship with his family and over time began to feel God pulling me to learn more about him and what it really meant to have a relationship with the Lord. I was growing some in Him through bible studies with Jeremy’s mom but it wasn’t until the 3rd year of our marriage when Jeremy and I moved to Columbia and started attending the Crossing in 2005 that we found a church home to call our own. We started attending regularly, went through the Discovery Class and became members that fall. Little did I know that was just the tip of the iceberg of what my walk with the Lord would become. We, and more definitely I, was about to embark on the pilgrimage of a lifetime…personally and spiritually. The relationship I was building with the Lord, as well as the relationships I was building with many of you, would be what would sustain me over the next three years.

Around the same time we joined the Crossing we began to get more serious about our desire to become parents. Because of my previous marriage and lack of pregnancy, I knew it would be difficult getting pregnant. I had seen doctors in the past about irregular and lack of cycles and other reproductive issues but in the beginning Jeremy and I were not really ready for kids anyway. When we did decide we were ready we were pretty haphazard with seeking help from physicians. And although I had grown closer to the Lord I still had not really turned to Him much in this area of my life. I finally scheduled an appointment with a fertility specialist in May 2006.

After 4 years of marriage and no children, I was starting to really feel “infertile”. What does that feel like? It feels sad; heartbreaking even. It feels like failing as a woman and a wife. It feels like being out of total control. It feels like you’re “sick” even when you feel fine, like your body doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to. It feels like being an outsider when your friends are all talking about mommy stuff. It feels like giving up on a dream…dysfunctional...disappointing.

It’s fluctuating between feeling like you deserve this punishment from God because of sinful pasts and then turning around to question God in self-righteousness because every day another woman who you deem as undeserving of having a child is pregnant. It feels like doubting God’s promises…that they might not apply for me. I could hold it together in public and even with my closest friends and family but in the private corners of my mind and heart I would go through almost all of these feelings daily. It was a time filled with fear that if my life didn’t play out the way I wanted; if I didn’t become a mom, then my life would always be filled with sadness. That I might never be truly happy.

One of the most descriptive words I can think of is waiting. Waiting on Dr’s visits. Waiting until another ovulation cycle. Waiting for 2 weeks to take yet another pregnancy test. Waiting when it feels like time is running out, month after month, birthday after birthday. Waiting when you’re yearning for something that you don’t know you’ll ever have. Waiting for the next chapter of your life to start, and just feeling like life is on hold for you while everyone else is moving on with theirs. Waiting when you are feeling very impatient with God’s timing.

Becoming a Lady in Waiting was the hardest part, and the part that I felt God most used to shape my character to become more like Jesus. Maybe you’ve heard the term Lady in Waiting in historical contexts. Technically speaking, a Lady-in-Waiting is a servant; most commonly found tending to the English Monarchies; a female personal assistant to a noble court, attending to a queen, a princess or other noblewoman. She was of lower rank than the one she attended too. In present day England, there’s an Infertility Support group called Ladies in Waiting. When I first learned about this support group I felt like it described me perfectly, but only from the standpoint of how I was waiting for my prayers to be answered. When would God come through for me? How many more weeks and months would I wait to become a mom? How many more treatment cycles and pregnancy tests would I take? Over time, after much prayer, I began to see myself in a different way. Not only could I directly relate to the “waiting” roller-coaster but I also started thinking about myself as a servant to the Lord. I began to seek ways I could serve Him and use this Wait in my life for his Glory. I was becoming a Lady-in-waiting to our Lord.

Whether or not any of you have struggled with infertility, maybe at some point in life you’ve struggled with at least one or more of these emotions. I’ve come to realize that my personal struggle just happens to be infertility. Yours might be something totally different but it all comes back to the same thing. We all have struggles. Being able to trust God’s plan for your life, turning your life over to him, and then waiting patiently for Him to reveal His plan is the key to getting through them.

“But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.”   Romans 8:24-25 (NIV)

While all these feelings were raging around inside me God was blessing me with the support I needed to grow as a believer but He was also surrounding me with the very thing that was hardest for me to deal with. Almost all of the ladies in my social circles were either pregnant or already had infants or toddlers. My small group had to have been the most fertile group in the church, save one couple…us. The hardest times were when the pregnancy announcements came. While we were joyful for our friends and family, it always reminded us of our own personal longing. My personal low point, while I’m ashamed to admit it, was the pregnancy announcement from my sister-in-law. But still, I tried to allow God to use me. I served Him. I made meals, bought gifts, put together showers…I made cupcakes. I started consulting the bible and reading everything I could find in it about infertility. I was introduced to Hannah, Sarah and Rachel.

In 2007 I was blessed to be able to co-lead a group of women through the book Hannah’s Hope which I felt had been written just for me. The cover spoke of “Finding God’s Heart in the Midst of Infertility, Miscarriage and Adoption Loss.” God used that semester of bible study with 7 wonderful ladies to build a support system around me of other women who knew how I felt and were going through the same things I was.

Something else began happening. I began praying not just for a baby as I had been for years (aka. “my plan”) but to seek after what God wanted for my life. I had to ask myself whether or not that included a baby would I still be fulfilled by God’s plan? At first I honestly couldn’t say yes. I was so overwhelmed with fear of what I might never have that I couldn’t focus on what God really did have in store for me. Thoughts of never being able to experience the joy of seeing that pregnancy test turn positive, being able to see Jeremy’s face when I told him we were going to have a baby; or the faces of my parents and Jeremy’s parents. Being able to carry a baby inside and have that time of bonding. All those things haunted me. I didn’t trust that God’s plan would ultimately make me happier than the dreams I had for myself. And that hurt. But with time and prayer God revealed more of himself and I felt a certainty growing within me.

“I am still confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the LORD
in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD.
-Psalm 27: 13-14

This verse became my mantra. I would tell myself every day, that yes I would see God’s goodness in my life. My faith grew based on that promise. I held tighter and tighter to that truth as I began to allow my grasp on my future family to loosen. It wasn’t as easy as it sounds. It came with kicking and screaming and tears and pain. It wasn’t as graceful as I had hoped but peace was coming. I began to know without doubt that whether or not I ever became a mom, my story would have a happy ending. It may not be the ending I would have written, or even an earthly one, but I trusted the Lord with my life and the path he would have me walk. I knew that he would write an ending that only He could and that it would be far better than anything I could dream of on my own.

While the emotional and spiritual growth was occurring, we were continuing on our infertility medical treatment journey, still trying to conceive a biological child. We progressed down a road of increasingly aggressive treatments. Think “shots, surgeries, turkey basters, lots of pokes, prods, blood work, pelvic exams, ultrasounds, etc.” After two pretty intense years of this without even the faintest “+” on a pee stick…in 2008 we were nearing our last resort. In-Vitro Fertilization. Considering this option came with no small amount of grief itself and giving up yet another dream of how my children would be conceived. On one hand, God was opening doors to make us feel like this was a path he was leading us down. I was blessed with health insurance that covered the majority of the $10,000+ procedure. But with the elimination of financial barriers came a new set of spiritual questions. Just because it was possible for us to proceed, was it really what we   wanted? Was it really what God wanted for us? Were we playing ”God?” Were we forcing a baby into our family that maybe God never intended us to have? What if we were punished and the baby didn’t make it, wasn’t healthy? And question upon question compiled. The day we were to start our IVF cycle, our 6 year wedding anniversary, March 24, 2008 we actually almost didn’t proceed. Maybe it was the final fear of failure. What if we pursued this last option and it too failed. What would that mean for me as a mother? What would that mean for our marriage, our future family? How long would I grieve before I could begin to allow God to build the life for me He intended? While I had a growing faith that the life would be good, I still had fear of how much pain I would endure getting there.

I found this verse:
“If the Lord delights in a man’s way, he makes his steps firm;
Though he stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with his hand”
Psalm 37: 23-24

Only after about 6 straight hours of prayer and meditation did I finally hear what God was trying to tell me that day.
1) HE had opened the doors for us financially and otherwise for IVF
2) HE was still in control of all things.
3) No amount of medical intervention would conceive a child that God had not already intended to join our family.
4) I was giving myself, my doctors and medicine way too much credit to the ultimate design and outcome for our family.

And that night, after a date night dinner to celebrate 6 years of marriage…I took my first shot of Lupron…another cycle, our first and last IVF cycle began.

On April 14, 2008 the Lord gave us eight babies. Eight little embryos were created from surgically retrieving eggs from my ovaries and fertilizing them with Jeremy’s sperm in a Petri dish. 5 days later, we had lost three of them but five of them had reached the blastocyst stage and could either be transferred back to my uterus or frozen. We transferred these two…

We had no guarantees that either of them would actually implant and survive so yet another period of waiting began.
This is what love and life looks like in its earliest stages.
This is what hope looks like microscopically.
9 days later I had the first of two positive blood tests and then more waiting until we could have our first ultrasound to see if there would be one or two babies.
This is the earliest picture I have of my two year old twins, Chance and Luci.

Pregnancy was a breeze in the beginning. No morning sickness. Jeremy and I even traveled to Italy knowing that it would be a long time before we would ever have the opportunity to travel anywhere after the babies came. I did at one point have some minor bleeding around 11 weeks that was scary, but while I was waiting for Jeremy to come home from work and take me to the Doctor I felt a very distinct peace come over me and heard the Lord very clearly say…”This is not to be your trial…”. I interpreted that to mean that I would not lose the babies that day and sure enough we went to the Dr. and both little hearts were still beating away. I was the happy, non-complaining, pregnant little lady I always knew I would be for the next 10 weeks. I was convinced God had used the one thing that would make me feel totally out of control, infertility, to realize truly how awesome he is. And I had realized it. So I felt sure the trial of my life was behind me. I was so grateful for this undeserved blessing of two little babies. I was going to be a mommy, finally! Yet at the same time, as ashamed as I am to admit it, I realized I was drawing more into myself and our new life changes and relying less on the Lord day by day. Life was moving on. The Lord had other plans for me. I was about to find out what He meant when He said “THIS is not to be your trial…” that day I had started bleeding. For a different trial was planned for me instead.

At 21 weeks I went on bed rest for a shortened cervix and premature labor. My babies were not even yet at the stage where they could be considered viable. Jeremy made me scrambled eggs with ham and cheese for breakfast every morning before he left for work and Dr. Grant started meds to help control the contractions. The pre-term labor was only the beginning of the journey. At 22 weeks, I started having severe panic and anxiety attacks. Irrational fears would grab hold of me at the most unexpected moments. I had trouble breathing; I feared I was going to die. I feared my babies were going to die. I felt Satan lurking in every corner. I was claustrophobic. I was in bad shape and it was putting my babies in deeper jeopardy.

Ladies, if you are not aware of the support and love and prayer and hugs and food that is available to you in this room when you need it, let me just share with you a little about the women who came to my rescue during the weeks I was on bed rest. After one email, ladies lined up every day to come into my home and talk with me, pray with me, pray for me. These weren’t just any ladies. These were women I had looked up to over the years in bible study. Women I felt could stand in the shoes of my own mom, in her absence, since she lived out of town. Not because of their ages specifically, most of them aren’t old enough to actually be my mom, but because of their life experiences and the peace of God that I always had felt when I had spent time with them in the past. These are ladies you know. Anita, Brenda, Kristin, Jeannette, Dee Dee, Dari and many others from our prayer ministry here at The Crossing.

I dug into scripture like I had never dug before. It was the only thing that calmed me during that time. Reading scripture, praying, journaling. God had systematically removed all the other mindless entertainment and clutter from my life. All the things you would think you would do if you were confined to bed for an extended period of time, had no attraction to me and in fact made my anxiety worse. Movies, books, music, TV…they were all unsafe. I couldn’t predict what might set me into panic mode. The more I dug into scripture the better and safer I felt. The more I felt God’s presence in my life, holding me, as I never had before…even through all those years of infertility.

“I raise my eyes toward the mountains,
Where will my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord.
The Maker of Heaven and Earth”
Psalm 121: 1-2

“He tends his flock like a shepherd
He gathers the lambs in his arms and holds them close to his heart
He gently leads those who have young.”
Isaiah 40: 11

Through these verses, among many others that were brought to me by those wonderful ladies, I found comfort. I meditated on them day and night. I began to rely on the Lord like I had never relied on him before and I slowly calmed down, my labor started to subside and things were stabilizing with the pregnancy. This support continued for the next 9 weeks. At 30 weeks after a routine appointment showing the babies were doing great and I was holding steady, some lab work came back and I found myself in shock as my Dr. told me he suspected I was becoming pre-ecclamptic and sent me immediately to labor and delivery for more labs. The on-call OB came in and instead of giving me my results said she was ordering steroid shots. That’s when I knew I was about to meet my babies for the first time.

We were told not to expect to hear our babies cry upon delivery but that they would get them on their vents right away. October 30, 2008, at 30 weeks 3 days at 12:07 pm I heard a baby crying. It happened so fast and was so surreal I couldn’t register what I was hearing. I thought maybe there was another delivery taking place right beside me or something. I had to ask Jeremy, “Is that MY baby?” It was. Chance Michael was born defying the odds and screaming with everything he could muster from his 3 pound 8 ounce body. It was the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. At 12:08, another cry when his sister Luci Bella entered the world. She weighed 2 pounds 13 ounces. 5 ½ weeks later, after more waiting, Chance and Luci left the NICU and joined us at home at 36-weeks gestational age. Finally our home was full of babies!

It’s hard to go into much detail in so little time about what life was like as a mother of preemie twins. While I remained thankful to God for all he had carried us through, I was finding no time to spend with him in those days. The less time I spent with Him, the more I realized that while I was so incredibly grateful for my babies and I loved them more than I could have ever imagined…they weren’t going to be the fulfillment of my life’s dream. I was in the mommy club, I was happy, but still there was something missing. I knew I needed God in my life more than ever. Only he was going to fill that remaining place in my heart, only he would truly ever make my life complete and allow me to be truly content.

Today Chance and Luci are like any other healthy, growing, mischievous 2 year olds. They are all caught up from their preemie days. We are so blessed.

This past March, we transferred two of our remaining three frozen embryos back to my uterus. March 11 we were again blessed with a positive pregnancy test. Unfortunately, at our 6 and 7 week ultrasound there was only one gestational sac, and no yolk or heartbeat seen within. I miscarried Easter weekend. August 12 we transferred our last remaining embryo, conceived on the same day as Chance and Luci. We are thrilled to be expecting another daughter on April 30. I’m 29 weeks pregnant, no bed rest in sight, no panic, no anxiety, and no premature labor. It really does make a difference when there’s only 1 baby in there! This baby has come with joy and celebration but also with some tears. Knowing after all these years that our family is finally going to be complete is bittersweet. I was reminded recently of a verse my sweet sister-in-law Heather sent to encourage me, in December 2006, after I had just finished another fertility cycle and taken yet another negative pregnancy test.

"Though the fig tree does not bud...
Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior.
The Sovereign Lord is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
he enables me to go on the heights. "
-Habakkuk 3:17-19

We began our journey with waiting and counting and numbers. Over time I learned to wait with a bit more grace, God made me into a Lady, His lady in waiting. There were many hurdles along the way. The hurdles were high and not spaced by inches and feet but weeks, months...days. Surely more hurdles will come. But I’m trusting in God and know that He will give me feet like a deer, that I may jump these hurdles in leaps of joy.

"Diddy"

We have another child in our home that I have not mentioned until now, our furbaby Louie, who turns 15 human-years old this month (that's 105 in doggie years!).  Louie is a Shih-tzu and was my dog before I met Jeremy.   I picked him out from a breeder's kennel in Louisville, which now years later I'm horrified to realize and admit was actually a terribly dirty, horrible puppy mill that should have probably been shut down.  But I was so enamored by the puppies every time I went, I just didn't pay much attention to their surroundings and everything else.  Anyway...the first time I laid eyes on him he was 1 week old.  The breeder was very ticked off about "Baby Bubba" as she called him, as he was the only puppy born to his momma this particular breeding cycle (no telling how many times the poor momma had been bred).   The breeder was hoping for a much larger litter I assume.  And "Bubba" was way bigger than he should have been for a Shih-tzu, add to that he had a little umbilical hernia...and well he was just not going to bring her much money.  He would never be "Show quality", etc. etc. etc.   Well of course, I had to have "Bubba".    I laid claim to him and went back every week to visit until I was able to bring him home, at 5 weeks.   I was in love.  My baby "Bubba".   His official given name on his AKC papers became Louisville Cardinal...but I have always just called him Louie.  

When I first moved to Missouri, I became a renter and was not allowed to have pets.  "Grandma and Grandpa" were kind enough to take Louie in until Jeremy and I married and bought a house of our own.  The day we finally moved Louie to Missouri, after he had lived with my parents for about a year, I remember Jeremy wasn't too thrilled with the idea.  He had actually only met Louie on a few visits to my parents house and he had never really grown up with pets inside the house.  Not to mention we had just moved into our first house together, complete with brand new leather furniture.   Grateful that Jeremy was at least willing to allow Louie into our family, I allowed him to set some ground rules... they were:
1) No Louie on the couch, recliner, ottoman, loveseat, etc.
2) No Louie in our bed.
and so on, and so on.
I respected these rules.  We had all hardwood floors in our home so I went out and purchased Louie his first real dog bed, as I felt bad that he was going to have to sleep on the cold hard floor all the time.  We had a soft furry rug on our bedroom floor for him too.
I still remember the night that Louie totally stole Jeremy's heart, as he had mine all those years before.  I think it was about two-weeks after he came to live with us.  Jeremy and I were sitting on our new leather furniture, watching a movie and we might have even had a fire going in the fireplace.  The next thing I knew Jeremy was "inviting" Louie up onto the couch with us.  And that was "all she wrote."  From that moment on Louie became the little king of our family...sleeping where ever he wanted, when ever he wanted...including at the foot of our bed at nights.    He was my first child and I loved watching Jeremy "adopt" him.     

Then came Chance and Luci and I'm sad to say that over time, Louie slowly became more dog than child.  I love him.  He still sleeps at the foot of our bed most nights, while the kids sleep soundly in their own room.  He's a part of our family.  I love him.  But I'll be the first to admit he hasn't gotten the attention he once has, the affection, the grooming...the anything really.  Some days I admit he is just another chore for me to take care of.   I get aggravated with him, he's under my feet.  He wants out, he wants in.   He poops in my van because he gets nervous when I take him to the groomers.   He growls at the shower because he wants me to open the glass door and turn it on for a few seconds so he can get a little "drinky" (something daddy somehow got him hooked on and spoiled with).  Some days he just drives me crazy.  Then I see him sleeping under the Christmas tree, which is STILL up on January 3rd, and I realize I still love him to pieces and he's now 15 years old...and I'm not sure if there will be another Christmas with him.

Louie has also captured the love and affection of Chance and Luci.  They adore him.   Newborns first see the contrast of black and white so they could see Louie very clearly when they were babies and their eyes would follow him across the room.  Occasionally he would creep up to them while they were on the floor, before they were mobile, and sniff them or give them a little lick and they would laugh and reach out to touch his fur.   Then the crawling started and poor Louie, who was used to sleeping about 23 out of 24 hours every day, didn't know what hit him.  He was on a constantly moving rotation from place to place on the floor as they would crawl after him, just hoping to get a handful of fur.  Louie would let them get just within reach and then move away again...and off they would go crawling again.  Sometimes, if he was good and asleep, they could surprise him and actually reach him before he moved...but only for seconds before he moved on to his next destination.   And then the walking started and poor Louie realized that it just wasn't worth it to get up and move anymore...the kids won.   We taught them to love Louie, "Little Dog" as Jeremy had kind of nicknamed him over time.  Be nice to Louie.  Be gentle with Louie.   And they have been.   And "Little Dog" has grown to love them too, I believe.

Now the talking has started and Louie has now become know as "Diddy".   Not as in "P. Diddy" but as in some kind of morphed pronunciaton of Louie combined with "Little Dog" that Daddy says.  The kids can't say their "L's" yet.  As a result, Luci calls herself  "Dici" and she calls Louie "Diddy Dog" or just plain "Diddy".    Chance can't say his D's yet so he says "Ga Ga" for Doggie.    When we arrive home from being gone they are so excited to go find "Diddy".  And "Diddy" has learned that meal times were never more fun now that there are 2 two-year olds dropping food on the floor constantly.  Yes, the kids have won "Diddy" over with their Cheerios, Bunny Crackers and who knows what else they feed him when I'm not looking.

Chance, Luci & Diddy...Friends for life.  Happy Birthday Little Dog.  We all love you and hope we have you around for a lot longer.

Louie listenting intently to Luci's "reading".

The kids used to chase Diddy...but now Diddy just finds himself where ever they are, especially if there are Cheerios involved.