Now I need to get a pic of the other two feeling little man kick to complete the collection. He is a kicker and mover and shaker for sure. Way more than Kate and spencer ever did when they were in my belly at any point. That is preparing our newest addition nicely to fit right in to our family dance parties.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Silence is...Golden? Eh.
Any of you familiar with God's silence?
You know. You pray and pray and ask and maybe even shed tears on something. What you ask for seems good, even in line with Scripture. You read all these verses about how if you ask you will receive. He promises to do it. Yada yada yada.
And yet...nothing.
I don't get it.
What does it say to you when someone is silent? I know for me, it equates apathy or judgment. My precious husband and I communicate very differently sometimes. (SURPRISE!) I'm an all-out, process out loud, feel everything kind of gal. He is a WAY more even-keeled, taking it all in, think it over type of guy. So when I'm feeling all my feelings all over the place (which I like to call emotional vomit) and then he doesn't say anything...I just about lose my ever-loving mind.
Can't you say SOMETHING?! Did you even hear me? HELLLLLOOOOOOO?? And then the self-talk starts. Oh, Jenny. You've said too much. You sound crazy. You've gone off the deep end. He thinks you are past repair.
And I lovingly say some passive-regressive remark under my breath (classy, I know) and he so patiently responds, "Can you give me a minute to get my thoughts together?!"
Oops.
I tend to equate the same response with God. I beg, I cry, I weep. I plead and remind God of all His promises that in fact HE made in His word....in writing, mind you! But when He chooses to remain silent, I assume that means that I am wrong. Or He doesn't care. Or He is too busy to hear me. Or even, when it gets really bad, that I am not actually His to begin with. Because...wouldn't He act on behalf of His children?
This morning, Ella was getting her shoes on as she got ready for school. She is a recent shoe-tying learner, as that was part of the deal when picking out new school shoes. If she wanted shoes with laces, she was going to have to learn how to tie them herself. And she did. She did well the first few weeks of school, so proud of herself that she could put her own shoes on and tie them up. But here in the past week or so, I can see the frustration creeping in when she messes up the first time. She has been increasingly asking for help on a more regular basis. Today, she was getting exasperated and I could have just stepped in. I didn't. I didn't say anything. (She didn't ask for help, but rather sighed some heavy sigh.) I knew she was wanting me to do it for her. But she tried one more time, and alas, tied her own shoe.
What would it have communicated if I would have done it for her, yet again? Sure, it's easier for her and takes less time to get out the door if I just do it. But what would she learn? What would she most likely do the next time she messes up?
Is God able to do anything? Sure. His character shows me that He is caring, loving, kind, and sovereign. So when He is silent, it is important for me to remember it is not because He isn't listening or doesn't care. No matter what my feelings may tell me. It may be because there is something to be learned, a way to make me stronger. That in fact, in His sovereignty, He knows exactly what He is doing because He sees the entire picture. Guess what? I can not.
This past year has been one of just that. Lots and lots of silence and waiting. Waiting on a promise. Waiting on a word of encouragement. Waiting on a victory. Waiting on healing. Waiting on attachment. Waiting on kindness. Waiting on fruit in ministry. Waiting on friendships. Waiting on peace. I have begged and begged and begged some more for the Lord to give me these things. All of which I have found consistent with His promises in the Bible. I have prayed His own word back to Him so many times when I do not have any words left. And yet, He often has chosen to be silent. It is not a season of answers for me, and perhaps it is not for you either. I may not know or understand why I have to wait or learn in this way (I would choose otherwise!) or why it seems He is holding out. But I know my Lord's character, and I know He loves me. I'm a parent, so I know that there are plenty of times that I do things for my children they make not agree with or like or understand. But I do it out of love and because I'm grown up and know better. I encourage them to trust me; I am their mother and I love them. How often does God spur me to on to believe the same thing about Him?
You know. You pray and pray and ask and maybe even shed tears on something. What you ask for seems good, even in line with Scripture. You read all these verses about how if you ask you will receive. He promises to do it. Yada yada yada.
And yet...nothing.
I don't get it.
What does it say to you when someone is silent? I know for me, it equates apathy or judgment. My precious husband and I communicate very differently sometimes. (SURPRISE!) I'm an all-out, process out loud, feel everything kind of gal. He is a WAY more even-keeled, taking it all in, think it over type of guy. So when I'm feeling all my feelings all over the place (which I like to call emotional vomit) and then he doesn't say anything...I just about lose my ever-loving mind.
Can't you say SOMETHING?! Did you even hear me? HELLLLLOOOOOOO?? And then the self-talk starts. Oh, Jenny. You've said too much. You sound crazy. You've gone off the deep end. He thinks you are past repair.
And I lovingly say some passive-regressive remark under my breath (classy, I know) and he so patiently responds, "Can you give me a minute to get my thoughts together?!"
Oops.
I tend to equate the same response with God. I beg, I cry, I weep. I plead and remind God of all His promises that in fact HE made in His word....in writing, mind you! But when He chooses to remain silent, I assume that means that I am wrong. Or He doesn't care. Or He is too busy to hear me. Or even, when it gets really bad, that I am not actually His to begin with. Because...wouldn't He act on behalf of His children?
This morning, Ella was getting her shoes on as she got ready for school. She is a recent shoe-tying learner, as that was part of the deal when picking out new school shoes. If she wanted shoes with laces, she was going to have to learn how to tie them herself. And she did. She did well the first few weeks of school, so proud of herself that she could put her own shoes on and tie them up. But here in the past week or so, I can see the frustration creeping in when she messes up the first time. She has been increasingly asking for help on a more regular basis. Today, she was getting exasperated and I could have just stepped in. I didn't. I didn't say anything. (She didn't ask for help, but rather sighed some heavy sigh.) I knew she was wanting me to do it for her. But she tried one more time, and alas, tied her own shoe.
What would it have communicated if I would have done it for her, yet again? Sure, it's easier for her and takes less time to get out the door if I just do it. But what would she learn? What would she most likely do the next time she messes up?
Is God able to do anything? Sure. His character shows me that He is caring, loving, kind, and sovereign. So when He is silent, it is important for me to remember it is not because He isn't listening or doesn't care. No matter what my feelings may tell me. It may be because there is something to be learned, a way to make me stronger. That in fact, in His sovereignty, He knows exactly what He is doing because He sees the entire picture. Guess what? I can not.
This past year has been one of just that. Lots and lots of silence and waiting. Waiting on a promise. Waiting on a word of encouragement. Waiting on a victory. Waiting on healing. Waiting on attachment. Waiting on kindness. Waiting on fruit in ministry. Waiting on friendships. Waiting on peace. I have begged and begged and begged some more for the Lord to give me these things. All of which I have found consistent with His promises in the Bible. I have prayed His own word back to Him so many times when I do not have any words left. And yet, He often has chosen to be silent. It is not a season of answers for me, and perhaps it is not for you either. I may not know or understand why I have to wait or learn in this way (I would choose otherwise!) or why it seems He is holding out. But I know my Lord's character, and I know He loves me. I'm a parent, so I know that there are plenty of times that I do things for my children they make not agree with or like or understand. But I do it out of love and because I'm grown up and know better. I encourage them to trust me; I am their mother and I love them. How often does God spur me to on to believe the same thing about Him?
Monday, September 16, 2013
One Year Anniversary
One year ago, we said good bye to our church, our job, our friends, our home, our city, our state.
We loaded our four children in the car and headed south. We had only been home with Ella and Josiah from the DR Congo for 26 days. Ella had a stomach virus all weekend while we were in the midst of moving and farewell receptions. (That was really awesome.)
We moved to a place where we knew no one but each other. And we barely had that.
Tonight, one year later, my husband was at a sermon planning meeting with our partner church, where he has preached for the past two weeks. I picked up Ella from school where she told me all about the elaborate fairy game she played with her friends on the playground. She informed me of yet another kid who wants to have a play date with her. I carried a plate of biscuits to a neighbor's house for dinner where he fried fresh catfish he caught over the weekend. He had my family and another neighbor over last minute (I may or may not have basically invited us both over as we all picked up our kids from school today). There were 3 adults and 8 kids (ages 3-9). I sat and talked school, race, disabilities, relationships with these two new friends. I even sacrificed 30 minutes of bedtime and the premiere of Dancing with the Stars. :) Then I came home, put my happy kids to bed, and felt our fifth and newest blessing kicking and squirming inside my belly.
My oh my how much things can change in a year.
There are still so many days when I am terribly lonely. Aching for my friends back home, wondering if those deep life-on-life relationships with other believers will ever come here in my new city. There are days when I look at my kids and wonder when the swelling, overwhelming affection will take me over the same for all of them. There are days when I wonder if we will ever feel cohesive, normal.
And then I see God in days like today. Anniversaries of various events really mean something to me- I like dates. When I realize 9-16-12 vs. 9-16-13 I must stop and thank God for His faithfulness. For His provision in the easy and hard times. When things seem to flow well and moving here and ministry seem fruitful and make sense. And those times when the pit is so deep and I think my treading water is bound to give out at any moment.
So often, we don't see God moving in huge ways all at once. He removes barriers, builds relationships, redeems brokenness, answers prayer, heals hurt little by little. And if we are not careful to recount His faithfulness in the smallest of things that may even seem ordinary or coincidental,we may not realize one day He has in fact done something huge.
A lot can change in a year.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
We loaded our four children in the car and headed south. We had only been home with Ella and Josiah from the DR Congo for 26 days. Ella had a stomach virus all weekend while we were in the midst of moving and farewell receptions. (That was really awesome.)
We moved to a place where we knew no one but each other. And we barely had that.
Tonight, one year later, my husband was at a sermon planning meeting with our partner church, where he has preached for the past two weeks. I picked up Ella from school where she told me all about the elaborate fairy game she played with her friends on the playground. She informed me of yet another kid who wants to have a play date with her. I carried a plate of biscuits to a neighbor's house for dinner where he fried fresh catfish he caught over the weekend. He had my family and another neighbor over last minute (I may or may not have basically invited us both over as we all picked up our kids from school today). There were 3 adults and 8 kids (ages 3-9). I sat and talked school, race, disabilities, relationships with these two new friends. I even sacrificed 30 minutes of bedtime and the premiere of Dancing with the Stars. :) Then I came home, put my happy kids to bed, and felt our fifth and newest blessing kicking and squirming inside my belly.
My oh my how much things can change in a year.
There are still so many days when I am terribly lonely. Aching for my friends back home, wondering if those deep life-on-life relationships with other believers will ever come here in my new city. There are days when I look at my kids and wonder when the swelling, overwhelming affection will take me over the same for all of them. There are days when I wonder if we will ever feel cohesive, normal.
And then I see God in days like today. Anniversaries of various events really mean something to me- I like dates. When I realize 9-16-12 vs. 9-16-13 I must stop and thank God for His faithfulness. For His provision in the easy and hard times. When things seem to flow well and moving here and ministry seem fruitful and make sense. And those times when the pit is so deep and I think my treading water is bound to give out at any moment.
So often, we don't see God moving in huge ways all at once. He removes barriers, builds relationships, redeems brokenness, answers prayer, heals hurt little by little. And if we are not careful to recount His faithfulness in the smallest of things that may even seem ordinary or coincidental,we may not realize one day He has in fact done something huge.
A lot can change in a year.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Thursday, September 12, 2013
Some Suggestions
Around the dinner table tonight, the kids had some suggestions for their newest baby brother's name. These suggestions include:
Tiny Bear
Jack (this one was actually on our short list)
Jackie
Applesauce
Ketchup
Mustard
Macaroni
Diaper (can't have a conversation without "diaper," "stinky diaper," or "underwear" somehow- please tell me that's not just my kids)
As much as I love these strong and meaningful names, and as hard as I laughed watching them crack themselves up...I'm also glad we aren't leaving the naming to our 6, 4, & 3 year olds.
My naming geniuses:
Monday, September 9, 2013
School Days
Our oldest daughter entered kindergarten last year in October, after being home for 2 months. She had dropped her native language by this point (sad day) and was only speaking English in broken sentences. She was scared and shy (naturally) and I originally had no plans of entering her into formal schooling for that school year. I had every intention of homeschooling her. Well, intentions are all good and nice, but when reality hit and I found myself in a new city with zero connections, my husband gone at a new job way more than I was used to, and two 3 year olds and a 2 year old, homeschooling was not happening. I could barely make it through the day, much less attempt to teach her anything. And I wasn't even setting a high American kindergarten standard. I was trying to teach her the ABCs, numbers, English.
I remember specifically the first time we went to the library here shortly after we moved. There was some sort of special reading event, and they had a craft component. I really REALLY needed my 5 year old to do some of the craft on her own for like 5 minutes. But she wasn't having it when I told her she had used enough glue. And all of a sudden I had 4 children all acting like 2 year olds and I knew it was time to leave. I basically had to drag my oldest out (I wasn't against throwing her over my shoulder if necessary) and fuming, all the way home, I thought, I'm never going to leave the house again. I can't even go to the library. Yes, perhaps I tried too much too soon, but I was just so LONELY inside that strange house in the strange city. That event convinced me of one major thing we had not considered when we decided to adopt out of birth order - our new oldest child did not have anyone but younger children to learn appropriate social skills from. Currently she was following the actions of our bio 3 year old twins - who had decided to regress (naturally) from anything positive we may have taught them. At least at school she would be around other children her age and maybe that would help her learn how to do some things independently while also learning some academic content.
Because the school year had already started, we didn't have any choices but our zoned school. That was all good and well, but we started a year of nothing but frustration for me. Ella had a fine year. It wasn't long before I started thinking of first grade and what our options could be. This was a tough choice, because I knew if I sent our children to a school outside our neighborhood, how would that affect our specific geographic location of our church plant? We had chosen our neighborhood ON PURPOSE to plant a church and now were going to send our kids elsewhere to school?
Early in the spring, after securing a spot with a nearby, more diverse population, I was driving home one night and noticed a sign at our neighborhood entrance about an open house for a new charter school. I was totally confused because I had searched high and low for every public, private, and charter school that could be an option for us. This new school, starting with grades K-2 and adding a grade every year until it was K-8, was located in our neighborhood. Like 2 blocks from our house. Like we could walk there. At the open house I met a board of directors and principal with a crazy awesome vision of student-led and project-based learning. A charter school with flexibility and local control. A desire for collaboration and community. WHAT?! Sign us up.
Ella was accepted and because of her spot, all of our other children have secured spots as well. I am so incredibly thankful for this new opportunity. Her class has a beautiful blend of colorful faces, there are six (COUNT THAT - 6) adoptive families in a school with 6 classes. The teachers and staff are kind, energetic, creative, and positive. My main concern with my super smart girl was self-confidence. She entered in not really wanting to TRY anything because it would be hard or she would be wrong the first time. I knew she was totally capable, but she hadn't seen it yet and hadn't seen it all through kindergarten. I communicated that with her teacher, and it wasn't long at all before I began to see a shift. She was writing paragraphs for her homework, sounding out every single word and spelling it all wrong, and was okay with it! She was trying! She was bringing books to home for me to read to her! Her reading was improving. I was receiving consistent communication with the school, making great connections, and she even had her first friend over last week!
Today I asked her to tell me 3 cool things about her day. Her responses were: flip-flop addition (which she explained - basically it's the first introduction to the commutative property of addition [former math teacher here]), she got to play reading games on the computer, and what they did in art class. (Last year her answers were about what candy she ate and if she went outside.) So, then I said, "Okay Ella, you told me three super cool things. Tell me something today that wasn't super cool."
Ella: "I don't really like Drop Everything And Read."
Me: (a little sad - I want her to love reading. and she is getting better, but it's very hard for her) "Oh. Why?"
Ella: "Well, I don't really like my teacher's timer. It's too short and goes off and I want more time to finish my book."
Me: "Oh - you wish it was longer?!"
Ella: "Yeah. I love reading."
And all the angels rejoiced.
I remember specifically the first time we went to the library here shortly after we moved. There was some sort of special reading event, and they had a craft component. I really REALLY needed my 5 year old to do some of the craft on her own for like 5 minutes. But she wasn't having it when I told her she had used enough glue. And all of a sudden I had 4 children all acting like 2 year olds and I knew it was time to leave. I basically had to drag my oldest out (I wasn't against throwing her over my shoulder if necessary) and fuming, all the way home, I thought, I'm never going to leave the house again. I can't even go to the library. Yes, perhaps I tried too much too soon, but I was just so LONELY inside that strange house in the strange city. That event convinced me of one major thing we had not considered when we decided to adopt out of birth order - our new oldest child did not have anyone but younger children to learn appropriate social skills from. Currently she was following the actions of our bio 3 year old twins - who had decided to regress (naturally) from anything positive we may have taught them. At least at school she would be around other children her age and maybe that would help her learn how to do some things independently while also learning some academic content.
Because the school year had already started, we didn't have any choices but our zoned school. That was all good and well, but we started a year of nothing but frustration for me. Ella had a fine year. It wasn't long before I started thinking of first grade and what our options could be. This was a tough choice, because I knew if I sent our children to a school outside our neighborhood, how would that affect our specific geographic location of our church plant? We had chosen our neighborhood ON PURPOSE to plant a church and now were going to send our kids elsewhere to school?
Early in the spring, after securing a spot with a nearby, more diverse population, I was driving home one night and noticed a sign at our neighborhood entrance about an open house for a new charter school. I was totally confused because I had searched high and low for every public, private, and charter school that could be an option for us. This new school, starting with grades K-2 and adding a grade every year until it was K-8, was located in our neighborhood. Like 2 blocks from our house. Like we could walk there. At the open house I met a board of directors and principal with a crazy awesome vision of student-led and project-based learning. A charter school with flexibility and local control. A desire for collaboration and community. WHAT?! Sign us up.
Ella was accepted and because of her spot, all of our other children have secured spots as well. I am so incredibly thankful for this new opportunity. Her class has a beautiful blend of colorful faces, there are six (COUNT THAT - 6) adoptive families in a school with 6 classes. The teachers and staff are kind, energetic, creative, and positive. My main concern with my super smart girl was self-confidence. She entered in not really wanting to TRY anything because it would be hard or she would be wrong the first time. I knew she was totally capable, but she hadn't seen it yet and hadn't seen it all through kindergarten. I communicated that with her teacher, and it wasn't long at all before I began to see a shift. She was writing paragraphs for her homework, sounding out every single word and spelling it all wrong, and was okay with it! She was trying! She was bringing books to home for me to read to her! Her reading was improving. I was receiving consistent communication with the school, making great connections, and she even had her first friend over last week!
Today I asked her to tell me 3 cool things about her day. Her responses were: flip-flop addition (which she explained - basically it's the first introduction to the commutative property of addition [former math teacher here]), she got to play reading games on the computer, and what they did in art class. (Last year her answers were about what candy she ate and if she went outside.) So, then I said, "Okay Ella, you told me three super cool things. Tell me something today that wasn't super cool."
Ella: "I don't really like Drop Everything And Read."
Me: (a little sad - I want her to love reading. and she is getting better, but it's very hard for her) "Oh. Why?"
Ella: "Well, I don't really like my teacher's timer. It's too short and goes off and I want more time to finish my book."
Me: "Oh - you wish it was longer?!"
Ella: "Yeah. I love reading."
And all the angels rejoiced.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Down a Familiar Road
About 4.5 years ago, we entered the room for a routine ultrasound of our twins. I had reached 35 weeks and was ready to welcome those precious babies any day. It was our fifth ultrasound and so this had become a regular thing to us. Stuart and I welcomed any opportunity we got to check on Spencer and Kate, cozied up in my womb.
I was beyond ready to meet them. After being surprised with the news of twins at 19 weeks, and a pretty uneventful pregnancy until 27 weeks, I had been to Labor & Delivery 3 times for a shot to stop contractions and spent the last 8 weeks off work and on bedrest. I had a miserable case of PUPPS (pregnancy-related rash) and sciatic pain off the charts.
By this ultrasound, I felt like I was getting better at recognizing what I was looking at. I don't know about you, but that first one - I was like - THAT'S A BABY??? How can you tell??
Laying there on that table, the tech tells us he's checking out our baby boy. "Oh look!" I told Stuart. "He's looking right at us! I don't think he's ever done that before!"
Turns out that was a pivotal moment for the ultrasound.
We were not seeing my regular OB that day (she was out) so we were following up with her the next week to possibly schedule a double birthday.
"We've seen something on the ultrasound." (Cue stomach falling to the floor.) "It appears your son has a bilateral cleft lip and palate. We've never seen it on previous ultrasounds because he hasn't ever turned his face directly towards us."
Oh? You mean that moment I was so excited about?
She went on to tell us there wasn't a lot we could decide/know at this point, because it really was a wait-and-see-when-he's-born scenerio. We scheduled a c-section for 6 days later, and gave me some great advice. DO NOT GOOGLE THIS. Do not look at pictures. Do not plan. Just get ready to have some babies.
Six days later Spencer and Kate came screaming into the world, healthy. But that started us a road on no nursing (which I had read and planned on doing), no pacifiers, reflux, Haberman feeders, hospital-grade pumping around the clock, bottle feeding, speech therapy, food coming out of his nose, liquid diets, feeding therapy, voice tests, mouth sensitivity, hearing screens, five surgeries (so far), overnight hospital stays, plastic surgeons, ENTs, sleep apnea, cartilage graft, speech pathologists, and lots of other unknowns.
Now, don't get me wrong. Spencer's cleft is minor in the world of birth defects. He is now a healthy and smart and tough 4 year old. But it has not been an easy road. And he's not nearly done yet. This will always be something he deals with - he will always look a tad different. Have particular issues that are related to the cleft.
Fast forward 4 years and an adoption, and I am expecting again. (Second pregnancy, fifth kid. Whew!) I was really looking forward to a more 'normal' (for lack of a better word) experience. Adding one kid ONLY to our family. Nursing. Baby wearing. Washing less (hardly any??) bottles. Pumping less. Monogrammed pacifiers (I'm from the south.)
We go in to our 20 week ultrasound and yay! It's another boy!! What we hoped for!
And then, that familiar flared nose. The black line (of space) coming from the mouth to the nose. We know it. We've seen it before.
It appears this baby boy has a cleft lip as well.
"Yes, I see it," Stuart and I both say. "I see exactly what you are talking about."
You know that whole bit about, "Well at least you have walked this before," and "He has a big brother to help him out," and "At least you have a great plastic surgeon." Those are all true. Absolutely. God has blessed us with Spencer and I have learned so much about His timing, His grace, His strength through the trials. I know He has crafted this baby (all our babies!) just as much in His image as any other child.
But I still need time to be sad.
Time for me to lay down my own plans. My own desires. Say goodbye to what I thought I might experience and accept God's plan as my reality. And it will be okay. I know that. But I just need a little bit of time to say goodbye to nursing (I really wanted to) and hello to pumping (BIG SIGH). I need a moment to be sad for all the times two of my boys will have someone (or themselves) ask, "What's wrong with his lip? His nose? Why is my face different in my baby pictures?" I need to be sad for at least a moment that we now have to decide whether to stay with our current plastic surgeon, whom we love and trust and beg to not retire for 16 years, or trust one closer to our new home. I happily gave away all our Haberman feeders (those are expensive!) to our speech clinic back in KY, and now unfortunately I need them again. I gladly sold my hospital pump and now I am hoping our current insurance will pay for one this time around. I need to be prepared to send my itty bitty baby (3 months old) into the OR for the first time and that sadness is still so fresh to me.
We are uncertain about this baby's palate at this time. It is so difficult to see on the ultrasound, very hard to diagnose prenatally. Our perinatologist (high-risk OB we see for ultrasounds only) let us know that when there is a genetic link, usually what one has, the other too. We are preparing ourselves for a cleft palate, which is so much more than cosmetic.
Last time, I was so thankful that God only gave me 6 days notice about Spencer. It is not something I would have wanted to find out the first time I laid my eyes on him. But I'm also glad I didn't have months to obsess over all the unknowns. This time, again I am thankful for God's timing. I'm glad I didn't get to experience that "relief" this baby was fine and then a surprise at the end. I am glad I have time to research other surgeons' cleft protocol and how it is different from our current (and super conservative) plastic surgeon. Spencer has an appointment in a few months and I am thankful I have time to send our scans to our current surgeon and get his opinion. Time to explore options, get prepared, pray for strength and endurance.
Forgive me if I can not jump on the "at least you have done this before" bandwagon just quite yet. I'm not ready. I know that truth is there, down deep in my heart. I am reminded of it each time my 4 year old boy kisses my belly and says, "Hello this is your big brother Spencer!" I am giving it time to come to the surface naturally, with the grace of God.
I was beyond ready to meet them. After being surprised with the news of twins at 19 weeks, and a pretty uneventful pregnancy until 27 weeks, I had been to Labor & Delivery 3 times for a shot to stop contractions and spent the last 8 weeks off work and on bedrest. I had a miserable case of PUPPS (pregnancy-related rash) and sciatic pain off the charts.
By this ultrasound, I felt like I was getting better at recognizing what I was looking at. I don't know about you, but that first one - I was like - THAT'S A BABY??? How can you tell??
Laying there on that table, the tech tells us he's checking out our baby boy. "Oh look!" I told Stuart. "He's looking right at us! I don't think he's ever done that before!"
Turns out that was a pivotal moment for the ultrasound.
We were not seeing my regular OB that day (she was out) so we were following up with her the next week to possibly schedule a double birthday.
"We've seen something on the ultrasound." (Cue stomach falling to the floor.) "It appears your son has a bilateral cleft lip and palate. We've never seen it on previous ultrasounds because he hasn't ever turned his face directly towards us."
Oh? You mean that moment I was so excited about?
She went on to tell us there wasn't a lot we could decide/know at this point, because it really was a wait-and-see-when-he's-born scenerio. We scheduled a c-section for 6 days later, and gave me some great advice. DO NOT GOOGLE THIS. Do not look at pictures. Do not plan. Just get ready to have some babies.
Six days later Spencer and Kate came screaming into the world, healthy. But that started us a road on no nursing (which I had read and planned on doing), no pacifiers, reflux, Haberman feeders, hospital-grade pumping around the clock, bottle feeding, speech therapy, food coming out of his nose, liquid diets, feeding therapy, voice tests, mouth sensitivity, hearing screens, five surgeries (so far), overnight hospital stays, plastic surgeons, ENTs, sleep apnea, cartilage graft, speech pathologists, and lots of other unknowns.
Now, don't get me wrong. Spencer's cleft is minor in the world of birth defects. He is now a healthy and smart and tough 4 year old. But it has not been an easy road. And he's not nearly done yet. This will always be something he deals with - he will always look a tad different. Have particular issues that are related to the cleft.
Fast forward 4 years and an adoption, and I am expecting again. (Second pregnancy, fifth kid. Whew!) I was really looking forward to a more 'normal' (for lack of a better word) experience. Adding one kid ONLY to our family. Nursing. Baby wearing. Washing less (hardly any??) bottles. Pumping less. Monogrammed pacifiers (I'm from the south.)
We go in to our 20 week ultrasound and yay! It's another boy!! What we hoped for!
And then, that familiar flared nose. The black line (of space) coming from the mouth to the nose. We know it. We've seen it before.
It appears this baby boy has a cleft lip as well.
"Yes, I see it," Stuart and I both say. "I see exactly what you are talking about."
You know that whole bit about, "Well at least you have walked this before," and "He has a big brother to help him out," and "At least you have a great plastic surgeon." Those are all true. Absolutely. God has blessed us with Spencer and I have learned so much about His timing, His grace, His strength through the trials. I know He has crafted this baby (all our babies!) just as much in His image as any other child.
But I still need time to be sad.
Time for me to lay down my own plans. My own desires. Say goodbye to what I thought I might experience and accept God's plan as my reality. And it will be okay. I know that. But I just need a little bit of time to say goodbye to nursing (I really wanted to) and hello to pumping (BIG SIGH). I need a moment to be sad for all the times two of my boys will have someone (or themselves) ask, "What's wrong with his lip? His nose? Why is my face different in my baby pictures?" I need to be sad for at least a moment that we now have to decide whether to stay with our current plastic surgeon, whom we love and trust and beg to not retire for 16 years, or trust one closer to our new home. I happily gave away all our Haberman feeders (those are expensive!) to our speech clinic back in KY, and now unfortunately I need them again. I gladly sold my hospital pump and now I am hoping our current insurance will pay for one this time around. I need to be prepared to send my itty bitty baby (3 months old) into the OR for the first time and that sadness is still so fresh to me.
We are uncertain about this baby's palate at this time. It is so difficult to see on the ultrasound, very hard to diagnose prenatally. Our perinatologist (high-risk OB we see for ultrasounds only) let us know that when there is a genetic link, usually what one has, the other too. We are preparing ourselves for a cleft palate, which is so much more than cosmetic.
Last time, I was so thankful that God only gave me 6 days notice about Spencer. It is not something I would have wanted to find out the first time I laid my eyes on him. But I'm also glad I didn't have months to obsess over all the unknowns. This time, again I am thankful for God's timing. I'm glad I didn't get to experience that "relief" this baby was fine and then a surprise at the end. I am glad I have time to research other surgeons' cleft protocol and how it is different from our current (and super conservative) plastic surgeon. Spencer has an appointment in a few months and I am thankful I have time to send our scans to our current surgeon and get his opinion. Time to explore options, get prepared, pray for strength and endurance.
Forgive me if I can not jump on the "at least you have done this before" bandwagon just quite yet. I'm not ready. I know that truth is there, down deep in my heart. I am reminded of it each time my 4 year old boy kisses my belly and says, "Hello this is your big brother Spencer!" I am giving it time to come to the surface naturally, with the grace of God.
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