Choose Joy!

Yesterday, I was privledged to be part of Choose Joy, an event for those surviving infertility and adoption.  The event is in it's second year, and it has been an amazing blessing to so many women and families suffering infertility and/or going through adoption.  Emmy Blakely, the woman who puts on the even is the sister of a very close friend of mine, and since she knows our story, she has asked me to speak at the event both years.  Last year, I spoke about open adoption.  It was a beautiful opportunity to meet so many couples who were considering open adoption or were currently part of an open adoption.  Although I am no expert, I was able to share our story - the good, the bad, and the ugly :).  In this past year, I've been able to connect with a few of the ladies who attended my session, and it has been amazing to watch God's plan for their lives unfold.  I was even lucky enough to see a few of their sweet faces again yesterday and hear even more about their stories!  I love how the Lord uses our own brokenness and suffering to bring joy and allow us to encourage others on their own specific journeys.

This has SO much meaning to me...maybe in July,
I'll be able share in more detail!

This year, Emmy asked me if I would speak on infertility.  Quickly, I said yes, knowing that I had several months to plan my talk and think about what I might want to share.  Well, I thought about it a lot in the months leading up to Choose Joy, but it wasn't until about a week ago that I actually started putting pen to paper (yes, I'm still old school that way) and writing an outline for my talk.  What was I thinking???  Here I sat, realizing that I had agreed to share about my heart's deepest suffering!  Oh my, my, my!  I finally figured out how I wanted to organize my talk and what I would share, but there was just one problem...every time I sat down to practice my talk, I would burst into tears and I couldn't get through it.

 Let me just say that my infertility journey started back in 2001.  That was 13 years ago, but as I recounted each step of our journey, the pain felt so fresh.  I was actually shocked by my reaction to the whole process.  I practiced over and over again, and then I just prayed that I wouldn't have a total meltdown during my sessions.  I wanted to be real, but I didn't want any of it to be about me (and my crying!).  There were many fears going in, but I just prayed for God to bring the people He wanted to hear my sessions and I prayed that He would use my words for peace, healing, and encouragement.

He is so faithful.  As I sat down to each session, I felt His complete peace (I was still nervous about the talking part, but I just trusted in what He was doing).  What a gift each session turned out to be.  It was obvious that the people who were there needed to hear our story and how the Lord was so completely faithful to our family - even in our suffering - even in His silence.  Afterwards, I was able to talk with several couples and hear their stories, which was an encouragement to my heart as well.  I was thankful that I went out on faith to share my story - not for my own sake, but so that God could get the glory.

With my sweet friend, Brianne, who shared about her THREE
international adoptions!

Do you have a story to share?  Are there ways that God has worked in your life and your heart that would bring Him glory if you simply shared?  I think so often I get caught up in the idea that I'm no expert and so I have nothing valuable to share.  But, that's just not true.  I sat in other sessions yesterday and talked with many people who are not experts, but in sharing their stories, they encouraged my heart and my faith.  They gave me perspective that I needed, and they used their unique journeys to bring glory to God.

I even got to share the day with my dearest friend Holly.
Seriously, we've been friends since 1979ish...yeah, we're old.

I would encourage you to think and pray about how God might use you and your story (like I said, the good, the bad, and the ugly of your life).  And...if you've suffered or are currently suffering through infertility, please, please, come to Choose Joy next year!  In the meantime, you can email me if you'd like to talk.  It can be so lonely and isolating, but you are NOT alone in this.  People don't talk about it as often as they should, but it is so wonderful to know that others are on that road with you.  Also, if you know someone struggling with infertility or going through adoption, pray for them - what a gift we can give when we're willing to stand in the gap for one another!

Where the Rubber Hits the Road

Over the last several weeks, I have been thinking a lot about what my faith looks like in real life.  So often, my head and my heart do not work well together.  I know that God is good, He is faithful, and that I can trust His best for me.  But what does that look like when trials come?

Yesterday morning, I got up early, got ready and was ready to head out the door for Bible study.  Both boys were up and ready too.  Flynn was going to come with me, and Ian was going to have a "Daddy Day" with Jason.  As I was getting things together, I heard Ian and Jason playing in the family room.  Jason was tickling Ian, and both of them were having a great time.  I was giving kisses goodbye when Jason asked me if I thought Ian's head looked normal.  One look told me that everything was definitely NOT ok.  His halo had shifted significantly, and his head was actually tilted up.  The halo is never supposed to move at all!  My first thought was NOOOOO!  These are the last few weeks in the halo, and his neurosurgeon is out of town this week!!!  Both Jason and I knew we had to take him to LA.

I made a few frantic phone calls (Kaiser has given us amazing care, but their system of getting the care can be frustrating).  I was able to leave an urgent message for Dr. Fedor's office telling them what happened and that we were on our way.  The operator assured me that they would call me back.  The office opened at 8:30 and it was 8:00 when I called.  So, every minute after 8:30 was agonizing!  As we drove, I prayed fervently for Ian.  It is in times like this when I think the rubber hits the road, so to speak.  All the things I know about God in my head have to work in my heart too.  Because I had been thinking about it so often lately, I kept praying that God would show me what that looked like in times of trial...in my fear and uncertainty.  So many things were going through my head and I was trying not to lose it.

As I prayed, I just kept saying to myself (and to God) over and over, "You are good.  I can trust you.  You are faithful to meet me here.  Show me what my faith really looks like."  Not by chance, the song You Are Good by Nicole Nordeman came on and of course, I lost it.  So grateful for the kindness and mercy He was showing me - even in that moment.  I want to have the kind of faith that trusts God regardless of the outcome.  Even if everything isn't going to be ok, I want to trust in my heart that He is so very faithful and that I can trust His best for me.  In my fear, in the darkness, in the unknown, HE IS GOOD.  The only way I get to learn that is by trusting Him.

At 9:33, neurosurgery called and said there was another pediatric neurosurgeon that was seeing Dr. Fedor's patients and that he would be expecting us in the emergency room.  We checked in and waited - I'm aways amazed at people's response to Ian!  Here is is waiting in the emergency room.  You can see how his head it tilted up, and he was having some pain, but as you can see, he's his same joyful self.  Amazing.

Long story short, the other doctor did meet us right away, he was fully competent, and he was able to readjust the halo for Ian.  He did a CT first to make sure that the movement hadn't caused any additional injury, and after looking at that, he was also able to see (and show us) how the bone was fused.  Praise the Lord!!!  I know that Dr. Fedor still has to look at the CT scan and get a second opinion from his mentor at UC Davis, but I see that all as a huge praise!  Now, instead of having two doctors look at the scan, three will have looked at it and hopefully agree that all is healed and the halo can safely be removed.

I think that it's important for us to be aware what our faith really looks like - in real life.  I have said so many times that I struggle with faith and fear in the darkness, but God knows that and He is faithful to meet us in those places.  We just have to ask Him.  In my own faith, it is critical for me to know (and seek to know more deeply) the character of God...to trust Who He is, and to recognize His voice.  He knows our hearts so intimately, and He knows if we fight with fear, but we have to lay that fear right at His feet.  He will be faithful to meet us and to connect what we know in our heads with what goes on in our hearts.

If you haven't listened to this song, you should!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q03zbRst1K4

Encouragement for a Fearful Heart

Fear...here it comes again.  Having a four year old in a halo has brought to the surface one of my greatest battles in life.  Even though I'm aware of it, and even though I'm praying through it, I have struggled with fear in one way or another every single day since July 30th when Ian had his accident.  Tomorrow, we go see Dr. Fedor, his neurosurgeon for his fifth month evaluation.  I'm thinking (and hoping) that he'll just do an x-ray, then give us a date for the next CT scan and schedule a date for the halo removal.  Truly, I can't wait for him to get the halo off.  I want to hug him and kiss him (without the halo poking or hitting me) and cuddle him close, play with him, and give him a real bath in the bathtub.  But, why am I SO emotional about all of this?!

Even right now, as I look over at him and see him playing trash truck, I want to cry.  The time in the halo has been challenging, but it has protected him.  It has protected his neck and is allowing it to heal.  If I'm being completely honest, I want the halo off, but I'm afraid of it coming off too.  He will no longer have that protection, and I worry that something will happen with his neck.  I realize that I'm being completely irrational, but it's just how I feel.  After many talks with Dr. Fedor, I know that he is being very conservative with the time he is keeping Ian in the halo.  He wants him to be completely healed when he takes it off, since it's impossible to tell a four year old to "take it easy."  In my head, I know I'm not trusting the Lord with Ian, but my heart...it's stuck in fear.

This morning, I came across this verse from Psalm 73:26 My flesh and my heart may fail, but GOD is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.  Funny thing is that I've come across countless verses like that over the last few months.  I know that God is speaking directly to my heart about my fear.  I've said this before, but I can just be so stubborn.  I struggle with the same "stuff" over and over and over again.  But one thing about this verse that encourages me is that He knows.  He knows my struggles and my fear and He speaks right to my heart.  He knows my flesh and my heart will fail, but He remains enough.  He truly is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.  Thank goodness I don't have to rely on my own strength, because obviously, I don't have any.  My fear reminds me to give it back to him.

So, as we head to LA tomorrow, I can go knowing that my God goes before me.  As it says so beautifully in Psalm 139 (which if you haven't read it, or even if you have...go read it!!!) v. 5 You hem me in - behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me.  How beautiful a picture that is.  I'm so thankful for such a personal God who can deal with my fear in such a sweet and tender way.  These verses have so encouraged my heart and allowed me to give my fear back to the Lord (again!).

I'll try to remember to update tomorrow after Ian's appointment :)!

The I Word

For so long, I felt so alone.  Infertility.  It's a very lonely place to be, especially if you're an introvert, like me. You struggle alone, your heart aches, people make unknowingly hurtful comments, and even though people eventually figure out what's going on, nobody says anything, because they just don't know what to say.  Looking back on our years of struggle with infertility, I went through so many different stages of hurt and grief, but "alone" is a word that I think best describes my journey.  Don't get me wrong, I had the wonderful and caring support of my amazing husband, family, and friends, but in all honesty, they couldn't really help me.  They could just be there to witness the crazy meltdowns and of course, they prayed for me.

At some point, I'm going to be brave enough to try to share our story, but for now, I think I'll just say that if you are someone who's been down that road or you're on that road right now, you are not alone.  At the time, I didn't know anyone who was in the same place I was.  Yes, I had friends who struggled with infertility for a while, but then they eventually got pregnant, and I was left feeling even more alone and broken.  It wasn't until we adopted Ian and joined a care group at church that I met two, that's right, two other women in my same care group that were basically in the same situation that I had been in for years.  Not that I'd ever wish that kind of journey on anyone (even though I wouldn't change a thing...now), it was such a relief to know I wasn't the only one.  I have since formed what will be lifelong friendships with these two amazing and wonderful women.  I am so very grateful that the Lord brought us together.

Over the last several months, I've come across several (like a lot!) of women who are currently struggling with infertility.  It's interesting, because I think they see me with my boys and don't even realize that it was a long difficult road to grow our family.  I realize that this seems like such a random thing to share on my blog, but I really feel like the Lord put it on my heart (especially right now during Christmastime), so there you go :).  If you're on this road, or if you know and love someone who is, I would encourage you to reach out and don't be afraid to be real.  It's not pretty; nobody know what to say or do to help - because there really is nothing to say or do, but in sharing there is comfort and freedom from the isolation of infertility.  Let me just say that I'm not advocating for you to tell everyone, but maybe just choosing a few people that you could share with.  It's a heavy burden to bear alone.
 

I'm So Scratchy!!!

We've been pretty busy over the last few weeks, and thankfully, time has passed fairly quickly.  Pretty soon, I'm going to start counting down the actual days until the halo comes off.  I haven't really wanted to do that quite yet, just in case the doctor tells us that he has to wear it longer...ugh.  Over the last couple weeks, we've had a few rough nights with painful pins, and yesterday, Ian slipped in his socks and fell flat on his back, landing on the pins.  To be very honest, when those things happen, I have a love/hate relationship with the halo.  I am grateful for the protection it offers, but I hate how it hurts him and how I feel like I've been living with a pit in my stomach for months because of it.  After the fall, there were LOTS of tears, and I was trying not to freak out and cry myself.  It's times like these that I am extra grateful for my wonderful husband who brings both compassion and rationality to these situations.  He checked the halo for movement (which there was a tiny bit) and the pin sites for bleeding (which there also was), but he assured me that he was ok and reminded me that we're seeing Dr. Fedor on Monday.

Distraction often works to calm Ian, so I got him the iPad and we found a game he likes.  He was able to calm down, and I went to get ready for the day.  My mind is very busy, and I find that when I'm doing menial tasks like getting dressed, cooking dinner, laundry, etc., my mind seems to replay somewhat significant (or difficult, or regrettable) life events over and over, and often times, I don't even realize it.  As I got dressed, I was still thinking about what had just happened and how I had no control over Ian falling or the pain and fear he felt afterward.  It brought me back to one very dark night I had in the hospital with Ian.

Jason was able to stay with us in the hospital the first night after surgery, but the second night, he had to drive home since he had court (or a meeting) in the morning.  I understood and was feeling fairly confident being alone with Ian through the night.  The night after surgery, Ian slept several hours at a time, and we were still in the PICU, so there were lots of nurses around to help.  Well, I had no idea what kind of night that was going to be.  I got him pretty much settled in around 9 and he fell right to sleep, so I laid down on the little chair/bed thing they had and tried to get some rest.

Sometime around 11, he woke up, and he just started crying.  I tried to calm him, but it wasn't working.  He was only half awake, but he was becoming more and more frantic by the minute.  I called the nurse after about a half hour, and she tried to help, but there was really nothing she could do to help - and all the things they do in the PICU - like taking your blood pressure, temp, and checking the IV every 30 minutes wasn't helping!  After about 2 hours of inconsolable crying, the nurse paged the doctor on call, who came in and said really the only thing they could give him to help him calm down was possibly Benadryl.  At that point, I was willing to try anything.  He'd had Benadryl before without a problem, so they tried it.  After a few minutes, I knew something wasn't right...he had become inconsolable and was so adjitated that I hardly recognized my sweet boy.  He kept screaming, "I'm so scratchy!" over and over again.  He had literally pulled out half of his IV, he was pulling on his halo, he was going crazy trying to scratch, and it was so itchy under his vest where I couldn't reach.  I tried to call Jason over and over, but no answer!  Now, I was freaking out...trying to hold it together, but it was the middle of the night.  The nurse paged the doctor again after a couple hours (it was now about 3AM), and she said that sometimes Benadryl through and IV can cause itching.  Great.  The nurse was very sweet and helped me try to soothe him by giving him a sponge bath and applying warm lotion, but nothing helped.  The entire time, I was just pleading with God to make this stop.

Finally, when the nurse left, I found myself straddling Ian to keep him from pulling on everything (mostly the halo and the IV) and I just started praying out loud for him - and for me.  I could no longer hold back tears and so even though I didn't want him to see me crying, I couldn't help it.  I just cried out to God on Ian's behalf, and when I had no more words, I sang him songs - Trust and Obey, Tis' So Sweet to Trust in Jesus, and Holy, Holy, Holy - his favorites, which I can no longer listen to or sing without bursting into tears.  Almost immediately, and for the first time in over 4 hours, Ian was calm, his body relaxed, and he actually fell asleep.  He slept for about 30-40 minutes then woke up, and it all started again.  I prayed over him again and after a few minutes, he fell asleep.  This repeated several times through the night until about 6:30AM, when he fell asleep for several hours.

Wow...even though it's been months, thinking of that night brings me to absolute tears.  It seemed so strange that praying over him (literally) would bring such peace to his body and heart.  Obviously, God was at work in Ian's heart and in mine.  Looking back, I can see that although I felt completely alone, I was never alone!  What a tangible way to experience the sweet gifts of His love, His grace, and His mercy...right before my very eyes.  The Lord doesn't always work that way, but I'm so grateful for the kindness He showed us that night.  When I remember that night, I think it may have been the most difficult night I've ever experienced, and yet the Lord is using that night over and over again in my life to remind me that He is part of this whole ordeal.  He is sovereign over every single detail of my life and He can be trusted - even with my deepest fears.

I know I've shared this picture before, but it was from that night, and it is such a picture of God's faithfulness and mercy in this storm!

My Fear in the Storm

Fear.  This is something I struggle with daily.  I have a myriad of fears, to be honest, but my most recent battle with fear relates to Ian (surprise!).  I completely realize that my fear and worry do not help my current situation - or any situation, but the worst part about this struggle is that it's a battle with my own sin, and it separates me from God.  It is a daily battle to bring it back to Him...the only one who can calm my fears and bring peace to my heart.

On Sunday afternoon, I was carrying Ian and I noticed that I could hear a rattling sound coming from the vest and/or halo.  I tried to ignore it, so I didn't say anything to him or even investigate further, although I secretly worried.  But later that night, when I was putting Ian to bed, he tells me that his halo has been "clicking."  Great, it wasn't just me who had been hearing it.  I told Jason, and he immediately checked to see if there was any movement of Ian's head in the halo, and sadly, there was.  I knew I'd have to call the neurosurgeon in the morning to let him know.  I tried to find calm, reminding myself that he was acting fine.  Yes, he was complaining about the clicking, but he wasn't having any pain at all.  I actually put off calling the doctor's office until Monday afternoon.  I had to leave a message and the nurse called me back on Tuesday.  She wanted more information and she was going to run it by Dr. Fedor (our beloved neurosurgeon).  She said she'd probably be calling me back the next day (Wednesday) after the doctor had time to respond to the message.  I was feeling better...she wasn't panicked, and was simply going to let him know.

Not ten minutes went by before the nurse called me back wanting to know when we could come in.  Apparently, she had sent the message to Dr. Fedor, and he responded RIGHT AWAY, asking for us to come in ASAP.  He wasn't going to be in the clinic on Wednesday, but he was going to come in (from surgery) to see Ian as soon as we could get there Wednesday morning.  Let me just say that at that point, I started freaking out (inside) and my mind went all sorts of places that involved fear and worry.  Why was this such a big deal?  He's coming in just to see Ian?  Will he need surgery?  And on and on and on...(you get the picture).  I told Jason, and immediately I started to cry.  A while back, I shared how I feel like I'm always on the verge of a meltdown these days, and this just pushed me over the edge.  But, let's just step back for a minute...nothing had even happened yet!  All I knew was that the doctor wanted me to bring Ian in the next morning.  I knew that I had to bring my fear to the Lord.

Tuesday night, we decided it would be best for Ian and me to go stay overnight at my parent's house in Claremont so we would be closer to LA.  After everyone went to bed, I knew I needed to spend some time praying and reading God's Word.  The fear was overwhelming at that point, and honestly, I don't know why.  It wasn't a huge deal, but it was really affecting me.  I literally felt sick.  As I sat down, I opened to where Philippians 4:6-7 were clearly highlighted - Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God which transcends all understanding with guard your hearts and MINDS in Christ Jesus.  I prayed for the Lord to give me the strength to trust Him with every detail of my life - including Ian.  As I flipped through His Word a little more, I kept coming across verses about peace.  Colossians 3:15 Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts...you were called to peace and John 14:27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.  Wow!  He wanted me to be reminded to see His peace instead of being a slave to my fear.  As I went to bed, I did have His peace and comfort.  I was actually able to sleep - a little - as a side note, I do not recommend sharing the bed with a very affectionate four year old in a halo...it's downright dangerous!!

Storytime with Papa

The next morning, we made the drive to LA (where thankfully, Jason was able to meet us) and saw Dr. Fedor.  I truly had peace.  The fear that was overwhelming me just a few hours earlier was gone.  We were so grateful that the surgeon was able to tighten the screws and make a few adjustments, and all those things that I so greatly feared were not coming to pass.  It was painful for Ian, and that is always so heartbreaking, but he was feeling much better after a few minutes and we were on our way.  Dr. Fedor told us that if this happens again, he will have to do another surgery to fix the halo (since we're only 3 1/2 months into the 6+ months he needs to wear the halo).  And...there it was again...the fear started creeping back in.

Waiting to see Dr. Fedor

 I realize that this is a constant battle for me.  It's a battle for many women (if not all) in some form or another.  This situation was a great reminder for me to BRING MY FEAR TO THE FEET OF JESUS!  My dad told me something a while back that has really stuck with me.  He said, "When you feel afraid and worried, that is the Lord reminding you to give it back to Him."  I have to do this over and over and over every single day, but He is always faithful and He wants me (and us) to have His peace.  The battle against fear and worry is one worth fighting.  Especially in times when He is calling us closer to him, because our fear can cloud our minds and keep us from leaning into Him.  I'm a slow learner when it comes to things like this, but I'm forging ahead, daily (hour by hour and minute by minute) praying that I'll trade my fear for His peace.

Ian asleep on the way home...sweet boy.