Hand Chosen

This was my mom's license plate throughout my childhood.....

 

 

California had just made 5 shapes available that you could incorporate into a personalized license plate. I remember so many family conversations as we all tried to agree on what our new license plate would say and we knew it had to be meaningful... a conversation starter!

 

Hand Chosen

 

My parents had a few reasons for choosing Hand Chosen...

 

* The 'hand chose' the car (boring, but true!)

* Each finger on the hand represented each of us

* Our family existed because God 'hand chose' my brothers to complete that hand

* Eric and Brayden's birth moms 'hand chose' us to be their family

* God 'hand chose' every one of us to be HIS children

 

It's just a license plate. Yes. The meaning behind it.... and the process my family went through to create it.... has stuck with me for 23 years.

 

On Monday, I had the opportunity to share our family's story with some friends.

 

Each time I tell our story, I come out of it feeling extremely overwhelmed.... and intensely humbled.

 

I relive every emotion.... the fear, nerves, defeat, heart break that came through the adoption process..

 

 awe, disbelief, amazement and thankfulness when our babies were finally home.

 

I love those moments. I live for them.

 

Each time I tell our story, a different part of it follows me through the next few days... God highlights a different piece each time and gives me an opportunity to bathe in it, to feel it all over again, and to truly thank Him and give Him glory in the story that He has written.

 

Monday~

 

I got stuck here. Specifically....

 

"We had just said "no"... again. I was desperate for direction... for something."

 

and...

 

"The agency hadn't put any effort into matching Baby boy with a family... how can you when his chances of survival are so small?! D said she had spent hours the night before pouring over the agency's family profiles... she needed to find a family who was 'open' to heart problems, prematurity, low birth-weight, a condition as complex as Hydrops, and the list was growing and would just continue to grow. She also needed to find a stay-at-home mom... it was stressed that Baby boy would need continuous medical care and constant stimulation to ensure as much of a future as possible for him.

 

She had no families that fit the bill.
 
None.
 

I interrupted her...

 

"D... what if...."

 

Her turn to interrupt...

 

" I think he might be your son."

 

 

This conversation took place in a hotel room. In Florida. We had spent 3.5 hours the day before getting to know the sweetest woman who was due to have a baby boy in June. She had chosen us. Everything about this woman, her baby boy, the relationship we had started, and the future we saw with her fit our bill. It seemed like a perfect match.

 

Healthy pregnancy. Healthy mom. Healthy baby. Open adoption. The foundation to a great relationship.

 

But something didn't feel right. We didn't know what.... we had ZERO reasons for why we said 'no'. ZERO. ZILCH. NADA. NONE. But our hearts were just saying 'no'.

 

And then the phone call....

 

"In late March, a baby was born... he was delivered by emergency C-Section because the doctors were having trouble keeping his heart-beat stable and rhythmic. As a result of the efforts they made to control his heart-beat in utero, he developed Fetal Hydrops (his body began to swell with fluid and that fluid was pressing on his organs).  He was delivered at 30 weeks gestation... delivery was more of a precaution for his mom because of how his conditions were affecting her. Baby boy wasn't expected to live through delivery."

 

Very very sick baby. No previous relationship with his birth mom. Thousands of questions and ZERO promises for our future with that baby. ZERO. ZILCH, NADA. NONE.

 

But, even with a perfectly healthy baby boy at arms reach.... we said 'yes'.

 

At this point in our story, most of the time someone will say something like, "You guys were so brave!" "Most people would run the other direction." "I could never have done that."

 

But we weren't brave.... we wanted to run... we were TOLD to run by many people.... and, if you had asked us only 12 hours before, we probably wouldn't have done it either.

 

Here's where I've been since Monday...

 

 

 

We didn't fall in love with Hunter when we heard about him over the phone. We cried for hours as we poured over his already-intense medical history documents. We felt physically ill with fear when we Googled so many of his conditions and the possibilities for his future. We wondered if the people who cautioned us... who were concerned for us AND for Hannah.... who told us we were making the wrong decision to go meet him.... were right. 

 

But still....we did. We went through the motions... we pursued yet another opportunity God had given us. Our hearts fought tooth and nail the whole way.

 

But God pushed us.

 

And then we met him.

 

And we said, "yes"....

 

To all of it.

 

I don't know why we said yes! Looking back, I SEE why friends and family were concerned for us. I totally GET where their cautions were justified.

 

And I am so thankful that God blinded our minds and deafened our ears so His plan could prevail in our hearts.

 

A conversation I have with God quite regularly...

 

"God, we were okay with the possibilities. We were ready for each prognosis and every trial he faced. We had fully embraced every medical concern and every possible outcome... from a forever-long feeding tube to Cerebral Palsy to major heart surgeries (many of them!) to accepting that our child might have a very very short life. If that was your plan, then we were ok!

 

But, God... here we are. Our son's appetite matches his activeness! His muscles are strong! His heart... our son's heart, is healthy! And he will grow old one day!

 

So why?

 

Why were we so comfortable and ready for all of the above... why did you prepare our hearts in that way....but you chose this for us, instead?"

 

I've never been one to ask God "why?". Ever.

 

And obviously this 'why' comes with an unbelievably grateful heart for everything He has done in our son's life.

 

And that's part of the answer....

 

Hunter's life. IS WHY.

 

He spared Hunter from every obstacle that we were 'ready for'.

 

At times I feel that He spared US... but He didn't. Every single caution and possibility could have come to fruition.... and WE'D be ok!

 

Hunter?

 

God has given him a life that will be full and fast and long and joyful.

Part of the answer lies in the changes that have taken place in OUR lives... we've learned patience and what it means to fully and truly rely on God... regardless of our human thoughts or feelings. Hunter's story has brought out the passion Hannah has for special kids like Hunter... he is her heart.

 

Most of the answers, tho reach far beyond US and HUNTER....

 

The miracle that is Hunter's life couldnt' be a miracle without the journey he went through... without every 'maybe' and 'possibly' and 'could be'. Hunter's story has already impacted thousands upon thousands of lives. He has brought people closer to Jesus. He has brought US closer to Jesus.

 

But when I think about my "why's", I know they come from a place in me that feels undeserving of the life we HAVE versus the life we were 'ready for'.

 

"Even before he made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in his eyes."

~ Ephesians 1:4

And the simplicity has stopped me in my tracks.
 

It was already done.

 

He chose us.

 

And there's my answer...

 

He chose Hunter for us. He chose Hannah for us. I don't think our family is done growing yet.... if there is more for us, He's chosen that, too. He chose us for them.
 

And he chose us for HIM.

 

Hand Chosen.

 

God's perfect love.... strong enough to push through every 'maybe' and every 'could be' and every 'probably'.

 

I will devote every day of my life to remembering that one simple phrase.

 

And I will do everything I can to instill that one simple phrase in my children's hearts....

 

so when their heads get in the way of their hearts...

 

They will always know....

 

They are hand chosen.

I'm Still Infertile....

I've recently made a depressing observation...

Of all the friends I have who don't yet have kids and are currently trying to get pregnant, a huge majority of them are experiencing infetility.

'There's something in the water" has taken on a whole new meaning.

 :-/

Joey and I were the pioneers in our group of friends when we were first trying to get pregnant 5.5 years ago. We were lone wolves. Maybe this is why I felt the need to be so secretive in the early months of our struggle to conceive.... My mom was the only woman in my life who 'got it'.



Was.

I was talking to a friend the other day about the world of infertility.... it's a world she has just recently been introduced to and if you've been there, you remember the thoughts, feelings, and frustration like it was yesterday; weekly and bi-weekly ultra-sounds, not even knowing when the last time you had a PAP was because really, what's the difference? Don't you have one once a week?! The blood work, the pills, timing sex, the blood work, trying to find your 'ideal weight', trying to keep your 'ideal weight', the blood work, the mood swings, the hot flashes, the blood work...

Yeah... you remember.

I feel that over the past few years I have become a 'Credible Source' in the world of infertility. I'm not a pro but do feel like I could pass any exam at any time to become a fully licensed Reproductive Endocrinologist with all that I DO know. But I DO know. I know the process and thoughts and feelings and frustration and pain when a friend gets pregnant and the depression that hits you like a ton of rocks when you leave her baby shower and how, on a daily basis, you reinact the scene on the elevator in Baby Mama... it's all you can do to NOT smell the heads of every baby you walk by! It all makes you CRAZY.



So yes, friends.... I am a Credible Source... of crazy.

So I know how important it is to know when to talk and when to listen... and in the world of inferitlity, it's always better to listen way more than you talk. But when I DO talk, I feel like my words are credible....

Because while those thoughts and feelings and frustrations are now my memories, and while I now have the baby I thought and felt so much for, one thing hasn't changed and it's the one thing that makes me a Credible Source....

I'm. Still. Infertile.

"Hi. My name is Lindsay and I'm infertile."

I know I know... it sounds harsh. But here's my reality;

I look in the face of my baby every single day and THANK GOD that I didn't get pregnant. I wouldn't change my life for anything in the world.... anything!

But while I look at my baby every day and thank God that I didn't get pregnant, I am also painfully aware every single day that my body doesn't work the way it 'should'. I remember every single day the struggle we went through to grow our family and I remember why we went through it.... because I'm infertile (I really hate that word but what else is it called?!?). I still feel the gentle pang in the part of my heart that would love to experience pregnancy.... not because a pregnancy woud give me a child any different or more special than the one I have, but because women's bodies were created to bear children. It's in the Bible, for goodness sakes and MY body just can't figure it out! I want to know what a baby feels like when he/she moves in my belly and as weird as it sounds, I want to feel contractions and labor and that moment when you witness your child's first breath (granted, some adoptive parents DO get to witness this!).



Back to my recent conversation with a newly 'infertile' friend;



While the conversation started comfortable; she shared with me, I shared with her, she had some questions, I answered them, we cried together...



At some point in the conversation, around where my toddler interrupted us, it felt like we experienced a shift.... one where she realized that I now HAVE the child I went through all of that to get and all of a sudden, I was no longer a Credible Source in our conversation. She changed. All of a sudden, I was on the other side of the 'infertility line'.... we weren't on the same team in the presence of my baby; a baby much like the one she is hurting for.



I didn't experience that when I was in the throws of infertility... I had friends who adopted their children and they were always a Credible Source to me when it came to conversations about infertility....



Because even though they have their baby.... they're still infertile.



So, to be honest, I got a little ticked.



Do you remember this post? A Baby Won't Fix Everything.....




When a journey through infertility brings a baby into your arms through adoption, your world changes; almost every aspect of your world changes.... for the GOOD! And, in many ways, that baby DOES 'fix' many things....



But a baby doesn't fix infertility.



I AM a Credible Source.




"Hi. My name is Lindsay and i'm infertile. Still."

Our Fighter

I remember so many nights .... I would leave the NICU to head back to the Ronald McDonald House.... and I would barely make it through the NICU doors before I broke.

The NICU changes a person forever. A parent with a child in the NICU experiences emotions that you can't describe in words.... feelings you never want to feel again as long as you live.

I would walk silently to my car, praying the whole time....

"God............... Please............."

And I just knew that He knew.... He knew the words I couldn't think or speak or feel.

And every time I got in my car to head back to my home away from home, leaving my baby behind to continue fighting for his life, one song always greeted me...

Many of you have asked for an update on our sweet boy since he got his hearing aids. I've drafted a few updates but nothing comes quite close enough to the video my brother took a few weeks ago.... matched with the song that became my anthem during the most difficult time of our lives, here is our son....

our fighter.....

Give 'em hell, turn their heads
Gonna live life 'til we're dead
Give me scars, give me pain
Then they'll say to me, say to me, say to me

There goes a fighter, there goes a fighter
Here comes a fighter
That's what they'll say to me, say to me, say to me
This one's a fighter....

(My brother has been gifted with an amazing talent and has video-taped some of the strongest, most precious kids I've ever seen.... head over here to see a few more of his incredible videos!)

Skinny Girls Have Fat Days, Too.

This post is not going to be PC. Sorry.... not sorry.

I'm a skinny girl. Always have been.

I have chicken legs. In fact, my legs and ankles were so skinny when I was in Kindergarten and 1st grade that my Daddy made me wear high tops every single day, no matter what I wore, so I wouldn't break an ankle.

Do you remember those?! :-)

I'm not quite sure where his theory came from but... I never broke an ankle!

I had teachers who wondered out loud if I had an eating disorder or if I was eating enough.

I was. Ask anyone in my family. I ate. A lot.

So... I was 'that' girl.

The one who could eat anything and everything she wanted and never gained a pound.

The one who could wear anything.

THAT girl.

Women write about losing weight and being over-weight every day... and they aren't too crazy about 'that' girl. Like me. But what about those girls? We have a side, too....

And I'm pretty sure MY side might come as a surprise.

I have always been aware of my innate, genetic 'thinness' but as I get older.... as life continues to happen... I've learned a few things about the progression of women's body types and I've found myself painfully aware of it over the past 5 years...

When I was younger, maybe elementary through middle school, my skinniness was a concern to others'.... I wasn't developing properly or getting the right nutrients or I wasn't eating enough.

Throughout high school and college, it became something to be proud of.... I could eat whatever I wanted, I never gained weight, and exercising made me sweat.... and if you know me, you know I hate to sweat ;-)

I was proud of being a skinny bride, even though I hadn't hit the gym for the 6 months before our wedding.

Regardless, being married to Joey ;-) I quickly found that exercise made everything about me more 'enjoyable' to be around... I was happier, I made healthy eating choices not because I wanted to lose weight but because I wanted to be healthy, my sweatiness was something my husband kind of enjoyed, and it felt so good to watch my body change as I became more healthy.... skinny does not equal healthy.

Entering my mid 20's is when my thinness started to bother me.

It didn't take long for me to realize that skinny girls in their 20's and 30's no longer have a right to complain about their weight.... 'being skinny' took away my ability to mention feeling bloated, bring up my awful eating habits, mention having eaten too much at dinner, or call a day a 'fat day'.

So... I'd formally like to announce that there are many days when I feel bloated, that when I eat a whole box of animal cookies I  DO notice it the next day, I tend to eat way too much on certain days of the month, and I absolutely have a pair of 'fat-day pants'.

Just like every other woman... fat, thin, chubby, skinny, pregnant, or not.

Skinny girls have fat days, too.

While I have never been 'unhappy' with my weight, my 'child-bearing years' only made me more aware of my weight and more specifically, of the 'world's' perspective of the skinny girl...

Everyone says that a woman's weight can adversely affect their ability to conceive when they have either above 'average' or below 'average' BMI for their age group...
(We'll use 'average' loosely, too... what in the world does that mean?!)

Anyway...

I was well below 'average' and was advised by my first (of many) infertility specialists to gain about 10 pounds.

I hadn't gained TWO pounds in 10 years... so yeah,  I'll just go do that now.

Yeah right.

My final and favorite specialists put no 'weight' whatsoever on a woman's weight unless it was threatening her life, aside from her wanting to get pregnant.

I loved him.

We all know how those 'child-bearing years' went (we'll use 'child-bearing years' loosely, too... they didn't do me any favors ;-))...

eventually, we brought Hannah home :-)

My first few times out with her is when the evolution of my 'skinniness' didn't just stand out to me.... it hit me like a wrecking-ball.

"Please tell me you did NOT just have that baby!"

"You must work out every day to look like that with a newborn!"

"My baby is 6 months old and I've gained weight since he was born... how did you lose weight that fast?!"

"You're babysitting, right?! That can't be your baby."

"I hate you."

True. Every one of them... and so many more.

My precious baby girl had become the one thing in the entire world that I was most proud of. She was beautiful and precious and we had waited so so long for her.... and she was home.

I was a new mom....

to the people who knew me.

To the world? I was an obnoxious skinny girl who couldn't have 'just had that baby'.

MY focus was completely and solely focused on our precious daughter... and the world's focus was on my weight.

And the comments weren't compliments anymore... even if they were meant to be.

I found myself stuck in an awkward grey area that I wasn't sure how to navigate...

I AM a new mom and this IS my baby girl....

and if I had HAD her, the world would look at me like any other post-partum mom and they would focus on her... not me.

I didn't have her.... but where do you go from there?

I remembered how many times I would stand in front of the mirror, pillow under my shirt, dreaming of what I would look like if I got pregnant.

I remembered stuffing my bra, imagining what it would be like to watch my body change so I could nurse my baby and help him or her grow.

I remembered how badly I wanted to shop at maternity stores... I've never even walked in one.

I remembered wanting my body to be different... for the first time in my life.

I wanted 'that' body.... the one that friends and family would analyze so they could try and guess if it was a boy or a girl... the one that strangers would touch in public.... the one my husband would talk to and touch, just waiting for a response from inside of me... the one that symbolized the love between me and my husband.

All of a sudden, our precious baby was finally home and I was finally a mom.... and the world judged my body, of all things.

I tried out a variety of responses to the comments I was receiving... they ranged from a full explanation of our infertility process and adoption process... to a lying 'thank you.'

I get those same comments now... a year after Hunter was born.

Now?

"He was 2 pounds when he was born."

That's all they get.

I let them take what they want out of it... 'she didn't gain all that much weight if he was only 2 pounds", if they're really focused on ME... or "wow... look how far he's come!!!"... and I walk away.

I've been at this now for almost 5 years and I still haven't mastered the perfect response. I don't really think their IS one.

All I know is that now, my skinny body doesn't symbolize s**t.

But my friends.... the one's who have recently had their babies.... the one's who's babies are toddlers... the one's who carried their babies and had to grieve the loss of them...

The one's who want so badly to lose their 'baby weight'...

I admire the effort they make to 'get their body back' and I'm so proud of how hard they work to be healthy for their children...

but it makes me so sad when they show embarrassment or shame at their post-baby bodies.

True, I haven't been there....

But I've wanted to be ... so so badly.

Those precious friends of mine... I'll never truly understand what happens to a woman's body during and after pregnancy... and I'll never understand the feelings that come with comparing your 'pre' body to your 'post'...

But aside from what I'll never understand, one thing stands out to me as I witness so many women who 'struggle' with their post-baby bodies...

Those women have their babies. They walk around Target with their post-baby belly. They sit at the pool with their sun-screen lathered baby. They take so much pride in their baby....

And then I think about my babies' birth-moms... they had a post-baby body, too.

But they don't have their baby. They walked around Target without that newly born baby and I wonder if people still asked them how far along they were. I wonder if people gave them that sweet "you're going to be a mom" smile. I wonder if anyone wondered how old their baby must be or where he or she was.

And then everything changes.... for the skinny-body new mom and the I-just-had-a-baby new mom.

To 'those' women...

Your children are beautiful... because of you. They're healthy and growing because of your body. You've experienced every second of your baby's life.... his or her first precious seconds of existence, first movements, first breath... the changes in your body symbolize those extraordinary moments of your child's life that no one else in the world can share with you.

They're yours.

Please don't be so quick to 'lose' that baby weight... to lose 'your baby's weight'.

Yes, be healthy. Yes, be good to yourself. Yes, get to a place where you love your body.

But, at those moments when you're putting on your first post-partum bathing suit... or getting dressed for your first date-night since baby... or trying to find new clothes to fit the awkward stage your body is in...

or when you're sitting next to the skinny girl at the pool...

Don't be so quick to be discouraged or to compare yourself.

This skinny girl spent many many nights wishing that she could wear an anything-but-A-cup maternity bathing suit or bra or experience those super-comfy maternity pants with the huge spandex waistband.

This skinny girl thinks you're beautiful.  I've been jealous of you for what your body was able to do.... for what it's doing.

And my babies' first moms? I think it's pretty safe to say that they struggle with their own jealousy, at times, too.

Keep letting your body do what it's been made to do for your baby.... but also do it for you... for the part of you who is allowed to hold on to your baby for as long as you need to, whether you're holding on to her as you rock her to sleep or snuggle with your toddler or carry him a little longer than you'd like because you can't hold him in your arms.

Every mom is, at the very least, entitled to a 'fat day' once in a while...

and every mom is  also entitled to carry her baby as long as she wants to, in any way she wants to....

and every mom, natural, adoptive, or birth-mom...

skinny, chubby, fat, thin, or whatever other term the world has thrown at you....

every single mom in the world....

 has that in common.

"Faith comes from hearing, and hearing comes from the Word of God."

"Faith comes from hearing, and hearing comes from the Word of God."

Romans 10:17

 

Our son can hear.

When I pulled out my phone to video tape Hunter's first few moments with his hearing aids in place, we were warned by Hunter's Audiologist that most of the time, babies don't have an outward, visible response to sound when their hearing aids are placed. She said that sometimes they get over-stimulate and cry but hardly ever do you see an obvious change... it's more of a gradual process as they get used to new sounds.

She was just as amazed as we were ....

And I'm SO glad I had my phone!

 

His eyes opened wide, his body stilled, his breathing steadied, and he listened.... really listened. 

 

 

 

It turns out, we're pretty funny!

 

We spent Hunter's first day of hearing by making lots of noises... and singing lots of songs!

 

 

 

Hunter started Sound Therapy today... we aren't wasting any time introducing sound to him, labeling various noises, and getting excited about the smallest of daily sounds. He's been alert and very aware of who is around him and where sound is coming from... it's been amazing to watch him take in so much in just one day!

 

Knowing for a fact, that for the very first time Hunter is hearing every single sound is an overwhelming feeling.... and if it is for me, I know it is for him. He's handling it so perfectly and we are so proud of him!

 

Our biggest prayer now is that Hunter's language will start to develop quickly. He is completely caught up, developmentally and his only delay right now is speech. He's a quick learner and with his big sister around, I just know he'll be a chatter-box soon enough :-)

 

I'm ready to hear this boys voice now!

 

Our son can hear.

 

And God is so good.

One Must Breathe... In Order to Hear

We've been quiet lately...

 

and Satan has been at work.

 

Our sweet boy has had one heck of a month.

 

Yesterday morning we celebrated Hunter's ONE YEAR home-coming anniversary with some yummy Dunkin' Donuts....

 

We spent last night back at the scene of the crime...

 

 

 

We spent one looooooooooonnnnnnnngggggggg night in the hospital, desperately trying to help our sweet boy control his breathing.

 

He just couldn't stand celebrating his home-coming anywhere but... there :-/

 

Hunter has asthma.

 

That's not news to anyone.

 

We've called for the help of 911. We've rushed to the ER. We've screamed and yelled and fought tooth and nail to be sure that our son is safe and cared for and.... breathing.

 

Breathing has always been a 'hurdle' for him and it's one we will continue to overcome time and time again.....

 

But so has hearing.

 

So last night we spent the night at the hospital, terrified that somehow, someway Satan was going to find a way to cancel the appointment we've been waiting for....

 

the one that's tomorrow morning at 9am...

 

the one where we will walk out a large set of double doors with a very tiny set of hearing aids.

 

He tried really really really hard to cancel that appointment.

 

 

But he didn't.

 

Do you wanna know something?!

 

In every situation, in every single terrifying and seemingly impossible situation we've been faced with in the past year...

 

Satan has never... not even once... not even HALF of once, has he won.

 

He'll never win.

 

At 10:30am this morning, our sweet little girl... against many 'professional opinions', but in line with the opinions of those who know him best (Us :-))... was reunited with her completely exhausted, still-somewhat-breathing-challenged baby brother....

 

 

Sometimes.... just sometimes.... a big sister is better medicine than any concoction of ingredients could ever be.

 

And tomorrow?!

 

Tomorrow will come....

 

And exactly 12 hours from now, our long-lasting countdown will finally come to an end.

 

Our sweet boy will hear.

 

The sound of running water when I get him ready for his bath.

 

The sound of the sprinklers when his Daddy takes him outside to grill dinner.

 

The sound of himself chewing.

 

The sound of his Mommy quietly singing him to sleep.

 

The sound of his sister praying the most beautiful prayers a 4 year old could possible pray.

 

The sound of the daily noise that we all take for granted.

 

Sounds he has never heard.

 

Our sweet boy....

 

He will hear.

 

I can't tell you what it feels like for a Mama and Daddy's heart the night before their son will hear...

 

So many sounds... so much quiet... so much uncertainty and insecurity.

 

Tomorrow. 9am.

 

Satan lost this one, too.

 

You've waited with us, too... you've prayed and you've encouraged us and we can't wait to share that moment with you....

 

He will hear.

 

(Hopefully, he'll be breathing well, too ;-))

 

 

 



The 'D' Word

Yeah, Yeah... damn, dick, dork, doof (if you grew up in my house ;-)), divorce, disease, disability...

disappointment.

We've discussed disappointment before when it related to expectations...

The kind of disappointment I've experienced most recently feels so much different than the kind we've discussed before.

It's a kind of disappointment that leads you to question everything you thought you knew about someone... about their morals, their aspirations as a parent or friend or wife or sibling, their beliefs, their ability to forgive, their ability to love without conditions, and their acceptance of others' regardless of the circumstance.

Moms and Dads. Brothers and sisters. Husbands and wives. Best friends.

There are many people in my life, both friends and family, who are my 'go to' people when crisis strikes. They support and encourage me, and when words don't seem appropriate, they pray for me. They check on me and reach out to me even when I've crawled inside of my own fear or misery or anger or sadness. I trust them. I know that no matter WHAT I do or HOW I do it or WHY, they'll be there. They'll still call and they'll still love me and they'll still know that I am ME. They might not agree with me or 'approve' of the decisions I make but they continue to be my ICOE.

They are my 'In Case of Emergency'.

When crisis strikes, those ICOE contacts become your lifeline... they know you well enough that they possess the innate ability to keep you grounded, to know when you're at your lowest and be right beside you as you climb out of the pit. You rest assured every second of your relationship that nothing and no one can or will change your relationship. It might be tested... but it will never change...

because they love YOU... unconditionally.

Not the decisions you make or the people you spend time with or the kind of parent you are or what kind of wife you are or what happened in your past...

they know YOU and they love YOU, regardless.


Your ICOE is supposed to know 'unconditional'.

But....

There's another side. I observe my ICOE's closely... I take note of the way the handle their own life crises and how they respond to other's in crisis. I never miss the tiny hint of their disapproval, disappointment, bitterness, or slight shake of their head when that person and their crisis are mentioned. I take note of those things, not to hold it against them, but to protect myself from them.

"If she can talk about 'so and so' when she's not around, then she's capable of talking about me when I'm not around, too!"

See? We've all done it.

It might not be 'right' but it's true for us all.

I've learned that, no matter how well you know someone, or how much you trust them, you will inevitably find yourself disappointed in them at some point in your relationship... there will inevitably be that one 'emergency' that truly tests their ability to 'live up to' the status they hold in your life.

Your best friend. Your confidante. Your ICOE.

Or maybe you'll witness their response to someone else's crisis.... and that response will floor you because you know them and would have expected more.

There's that expectation again.

But this kind of disappointment just feels so much different.... it's the kind of disappointment that leads to a change, not only in your relationship, but in your belief in that person. It's the kind that can't seem end with 'I'm sorry' and 'I forgive you'.....

You and your husband suffer through infertility and decide to pursue IVF.... but your parents think that's an irresponsible financial or moral decision, so you travel that path alone and when your baby comes, their expectation is that they'll pick up where they left off, wanting to play a role in this beautiful, wonderful, perfectly made child's life... but you can't help but remember their 'disapproval' and lack of support during the most difficult time of your life every single day. You expected more... and now everything has changed.

You've spent decades alone but still know that your purpose is to be a mom so you start the adoption process or pursue IVF with a 'doner'... but your friends think you're crazy for bringing a child into a one-parent home and you go to your appointments alone, even though you long for the company of your ICOE. You expected more... and now everything has changed.

You were raised in a strong Christian home, knowing what the Bible says about sex before marriage and weeks after a single moment of human weakness, the words 'pregnant' taunts you in the quietness of your bathroom.... and your parents are disappointed, creating a crack in the wall of your relationship as you struggle alone to plan your future while they struggle just to grasp the 'magnitude' of this particular mistake when you've made many many more of them in the past. You expected more... and now everything has changed.

You decide to abort your baby.... and the family member who loved you through so much darkness before, will never speak to you again as if continuing a relationship with you will somehow stain their own reputation. You expected more... and now everything has changed.

You decide to parent your baby but you'll never be able to count on the emotional support of your ICOE's because they can't get past your moment of human weakness.... so you find yourself facing parenthood without your community of people who know you the most. You expected more... and now everything has changed.

You choose to fore go your right and even ability to parent your baby and you choose a lifetime of loss and pain in order to give your child a life he/she deserves and you place him/her for adoption...  the relationships you built through thick and thin just can't weather THIS kind of crisis and as if living life without your child isn't enough, you lose that one person who should have been there for you. You expected more.... and now everything has changed.

The one person who knows you, and trusts you, and loves you....

unconditionally.

ICOE's know unconditional...

They are able to step outside of the circumstance and know that the circumstance doesn't change who they know to be YOU...

You're still YOU... no matter the crisis or the decisions or the circumstance.

You're still you.

But at one pivotal point in your life, the crisis or decisions or the circumstance becomes too much and your ICOE will disappoint you...

what you thought you KNEW about their ability to love unconditionally and accept you for who YOU are and not what you do ...their ability to fore go their own opinions and own disappointments in order to love YOU unconditionally.... you'll even question their belief that 'all things work together for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28)'...

and they fail you.

Sometimes you're the spectator as your ICOE walks through crisis with someone else and sometimes you're the one in crisis, desperately needing the precious connection you've built with him/her.

But when a circumstance tests what you know to be true about someone and they fail you, what happens then?

Naturally, you'll lose a little trust in them... you'll probably distance yourself from them... you'll quietly observe them from that distance, but this time in a different light...

If your relationship can weather the storm, you'll enter your post-storm relationship with a few reservations or contingencies...

We won't talk about the past.... we won't discuss our children... we won't mention who is expecting... we won't share details of our other relationships....

And at some point you realize that the disappointment you felt when your ICOE failed to fall under the umbrella of qualities you've been so sure of in the past...

Isn't any better than the way you've taken 'unconditional' out of your love and acceptance for them.

"I love you, but...." & "I love you, except for when..."

are responsible for taking the unconditional away from love.

I've learned that disappointment stemming from our expectations of others' is one of the most difficult of the human emotional processes to overcome....

But when I dig deep into God's Word, searching for some way I can let go of my pre-conceived ideas of how my ICOE's should act or feel, I realize that if my ultimate goal is to model my life after Christ, I can't hold anyone up to a standard that I'm not willing to hold myself to....

and regardless of what we do or how we handle it or how you feel about it or what comes of it...

God never sees us as disappointments.

To Him we are forgiven (Psalm 86:5) and saved (Acts 2:21) ... you're a person of hope (Jeremiah 29:11) and you're His beloved child (2 Corin 6:17-18).

If you're all of those things to HIM, your ICOE is, too....

and that makes all the difference between disappointment and unconditional love, no matter what side of the crisis you're on.



To the Hopeful Mama that was Me not too Long Ago on Mother's Day....

Mother's Day means so much to me.

Not because it's a Hallmark Holiday or because I get presents and special treatment.

It's special to me because I'm a mom...

And there was a day not too long ago, when I wasn't.

I've spent time this week remembering what my life looked like on Mother's Day almost 6 years ago....

I remember.... I didn't want to get out of bed that morning. Couldn't we just skip that day?!

I remember going to church.... being immersed in a sermon about the joys of motherhood and the crucial role they play in everyone's lives.

I remember... cringing when each mom received a beautiful rose at the end of the sermon.

I remember my students.... and the sweet cards they made for their moms.

That morning, 6 years ago... I did get out of bed. I went to church. I listened intently as our Pastor's wife talked about motherhood. And I walked quietly by the dozens of baskets overflowing with roses.

I remember walking into the restroom and finally letting myself cry.

A friend once told me how 'impressed' she was at my strength throughout our infertility journey and she wondered how I handled it all without a 'why me?!' attitude.

That morning? 'Why me' was my cry.

This week? This Mother's Day?

I get a Mother's Day.

I don't care about presents or flowers or even roses at church....

I'm a mom.

And that's enough for me.... (though, I better get a handmade card ;-))

But here's the thing...

I still have that same question....

Why ME?!

This year, it's a little different;

Why am I the one who gets breakfast in bed?!

Why in the world would there be a sermon that is dedicated to ME... to the role and 'job' that God has called me to do?!

What did I do to deserve that rose on my way out of church?!

and....

Who has taken my place in the church restroom...?

I will never forget that Mother's Day Sunday, 6 years ago. It is forever etched in my memory and I truly hope it does stay for good.

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

To the Hopeful-Mama that was me not too long ago, on this Mother's Day....

Get out of bed. There's at least one woman in your life who you need to celebrate this Sunday. You wouldn't be who you are without her... and you won't be the Mama you're GOING TO BE without her, either.

 Go to church. Listen to that sermon and don't forget a single word... you're going to need every one of them etched in YOUR heart one day soon.

Walk by the flowers with your head held high.... that flower will be wilted and forgotten by morning. YOUR hope and YOUR future are still in God's hands, whether it's Mother's Day or just another Sunday.

And please know this....

I don't know if you'll be reading this from a distance or if you'll be the woman sitting next to me at church.... but YOU are not forgotten.

Society has convinced us that Mother's Day is a celebration of TODAY'S moms but...

Is the Mama who lost her baby exempt just because her baby isn't with her on Mother's Day?!

What about the Mama who placed her only baby for adoption.... who sacrificed her many days of Motherhood to give him/her a life bigger and better than the one she could provide... who gave another Hopeful Mama her Mother's Day?!

The Mama who's children were taken from her. The Mama who outlived her child and is now just 'Gramma'....

The Mama who isn't quite a Mama yet but who's heart has been one forever.

You fit right in. No matter what society says... you ARE a Mama. A Hopeful Mama.

Spend Sunday celebrating the women in your life who have influenced you so positively that there's nothing in the world you'd rather be than a Mama, yourself....

And then, when the celebrating is over... do something that you've gone the distance to avoid for so long;

Let yourself dream.

Mother's Day for a Hopeful Daddy is tough, too.... Joey didn't know what to do to help me on that Sunday 5 years ago.

If you have a 'Joey', bring him into your dream.... take a few minutes over dessert or a glass of wine to plan your nursery, to talk about names, to express to each other what your perfect Mother's or Father's Day would look like...

Cry.

Maybe you're single and in your mid-30's wondering every day if you'll ever meet the 'one' who can make you a Mama.. maybe you're ready to be a Mama but your husband isn't quite ready to be a Daddy.... maybe you're in the middle of that dreaded first year of trying to get pregnant... maybe you've started infertility treatments... maybe you've had a miscarriage or a still birth... maybe your marriage just ended right when your heart was ready to be a mama... maybe you just submitted your adoption application... maybe you're 'waiting'....

Let your Mother's Day be a celebration of the HOPE you have as a Hopeful Mama.

And know this...

You're not alone. You're not forgotten. And one day...

You'll get that handmade card from your baby.

Don't miss one second of this Mother's Day.....

It will one day be a memory that you will try to remember forever because that day is what will make every one of your Mother's Days as a Mama even more special than breakfast in bed, presents, special treatment, sermons about motherhood, and roses.

You'll be a Mama and you'd do it all over again if you had to ...

because that's what makes every day YOUR Mother's Day.

Love,

Me.... a once Hopeful and now Mama



Angels & Demons

 

I've considered sharing this a few times, never really afraid of being labeled 'crazy', but maybe slightly intimidated by the topic itself without knowing exactly how to back it all up...

 

Oh well.

 

The majority of my readers have, are, or know someone who is struggling with infertility and/or are travelling through or exploring adoption...

 

Infertility and adoption;

 

In my opinion, two of the most intimate, terrifying, and Satan-attracting experiences quite possibly, in existence.

 

Does that make sense?

 

Intimate and terrifying... self explanatory.

 

Satan-Attracting.... I'll explain;

 

Infertility and adoption both strike at someones deepest emotions.... they test and try everything someone thought they were, and everywhere they thought they were going. They change someones life-course and shake their world in a way that's both physically and emotionally painful.

 

They test someones faith.

 

And in those moments... when we are fragile and emotional and broken... Satan attacks.

 

He messes things up.... makes you lose faith.... distracts you from the path you've been on; God's path...

 

And then you have two choices...

 

You give in... and he'll inevitably chew you up and spit you back out

 

OR

 

You give it up.... and give it to God.

 

That last one? Easier said than done... because as soon as you find yourself back in line with God's plan... as soon as you've given it all over to Him and allow Him to help you re-focus...

 

Somehow, Satan shows up again.

 

It's a pattern.

 

As disheartening as it sounds... the pattern never ends.

 

God is your focus... Satan attacks... God re-focuses you... Satan attacks... etc.

 

But if Satan didn't attack... somehow, someway... God would never be given a chance to strengthen and challenge our faith...

 

In Him.

So... are Satan's attacks actually a good thing?!
 

Our own infertility journey, that later turned into our adoption journey... was rough.

 

There were so many times when we felt attacked... chewed up and spit out by Satan, himself.

 

At times, we most definitely allowed him to do just that.... we let our guard down.

 

But there were other times in our struggle with infertility when Satan would attack when our faith was it's strongest and our resolve was strong and we were just moments away from what we thought would be the fulfillment of God's plan... the end of that journey, and the start of the next.

 

Our first adoption journey was similar...

 

And just as a woman who gives birth to a child will quickly forget the pain and struggles of labor...

 

We quickly forgot the pain and struggles of waiting for our baby.... because the wait was over and our baby was home.

 

Satan's attacks were mostly felt more than they were seen... we would lose hope and begin to wonder if we were even supposed to adopt.... our marriage would suffer... we would argue and forget that we were the only two people in the world who felt like we did at that moment... we'd forget that we were in it together. Many times he tried to break us... and a few times, he almost did.

 

In those ways, our second adoption journey was similar....

 

And in other ways, it couldn't have been more different;

 

Satan's attacks became real.... they came to life.

 

Do you believe in ghosts?

 

How about demons?

 

Angels?

 

You've been asked before, I promise.

 

I didn't believe in ghosts because of Casper.... I watched that movie just knowing that ghosts weren't real ;-)

 

Why?

 

I had no clue.

 

Did I believe in demons?

 

I guess not. Why? No one I know has ever mentioned demons... seeing them, hearing them, or whatever. Yeah, they're in the Bible but they're terrifying....so let's just leave them in the Bible, k?

 

Angels?

 

Of course I believe in angels! I've never seen one but they're all over the Bible... they represent hope and happiness and protection! I believe in them like I believe in God... I don't see them but I know they're there. Who doesn't want to believe in angels?!

 

And then I read it all back to myself and it makes no sense. Zero. I pretty much choose to believe in the flowers and daisies and I refuse to consider the opposite.... the one that's less comfortable.

 

We were about 6 months into our second adoption journey when my nightmares began....

 

Our home study was done, we were actively waiting with a local agency, and we were talking to a couple potential birthmoms who found us through our Facebook page...

 

We were hopeful.

 

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

 

Can we back-track a few years? Highschool.... we lived in New York. I was about 16 and there were nights when I would wake up in the middle of the night and know that someone was in my room.

 

I know. Crazy.

 

I thought so, too so I never said anything about it.

 

He was a cowboy.... hat, spurs, cut-out leather pants (chaps?!), the whole nine.

 

I wasn't afraid of him..... he would show up and kind of just be there. He didn't represent anything to me....

 

except maybe that I was crazy.

 

He didn't protect me... he didn't have 'unfinished business'... he didn't want to chat ... he just 'was'.

 

My parents built that house.... I never thought that someone was buried under it or whatever.

 

I mentioned it to my parents a couple years later.... he still woke me up some nights but I was used to it...

 

I'm not even sure my parents truly heard me.

 

Because I was crazy.

 

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

 

Back to adoption #2....

 

We were hopeful. We were strong in our marriage and in our faith that our baby(ies) was on it's way.... and we thought that it would be soon!

 

The that night....

 

According to Joey I had only been asleep for about 30 minutes. I woke up screaming.... the 'your whole body is shaking, you jump toward the middle of the bed and hide under the covers' screaming.

 

I was terrified.

 

There was a man in our room.

 

He was standing on my side of the bed... hovering. Black hoodie, hands in his pockets, I couldn't see his face. Just standing....

 

Like the cowboy....

 

But this guy? He terrified me to my core.

 

Screaming, I told Joey that he had to still be there.... maybe under the bed?  Joey jumped up, grabbed his gun, and hit the floor to look under the bed...

No one.

 

But he was so real. I knew someone was there.

 

Joey ran to Hannah's room... she was sleeping but he grabbed her and put her in bed with me.

 

He checked the doors, the basement, walked around the house...

 

No one.

 

It was official... I was crazy.

 

Neither of us slept that night and the next day, we wrote it off to a bad dream.

 

That man? Black hoodie, hands in pockets, face shadowed....

 

He stayed away for a while....2 weeks or so.

 

Rewind.... repeat. Same story, different night.

 

That night, after Joey's look under the bed and walk around the house...

 

We prayed.

 

We knew that this 'bad dream' wasn't a bad dream at all....

And we weren't entirely sure anymore that I was crazy.... becuase over the 2 week 'break' from the Hoodie Guy, things started falling apart; our adoption plan, finances, marriage, friendships....

 

It was a nightmare, yes.... but it was more.

 

We were being attacked.

 

We prayed in every room of our house that night... we read and repeated Scripture.... and begged the Lord to protect our house... our baby.

 

Hoodie Guy came back one more time before we took him public...

 

There's no possible way to nonchalantly discuss demons with friends. Period.

 

So we talked to one of our Pastors and one of our closest friends.

 

They told us that they believe in demons.... and in Spiritual warfare...

 

They gave us Scripture to back it... they prayed for and with us...

 

They didn't make me feel crazy.

 

(I still felt crazy.)

 

We started to believe in demons.... because all of a sudden, they had become as real to us as God or angels...

 

and if they weren't real... I really was crazy.

 

He came back again.

 

I was visiting my parents one weekend and decided to explore their feelings about demons...

 

they didn't really believe in them, or hadn't seriously considered it.

 

So, in order to justify my question, I reminded them about 'the cowboy' and told them about 'the Hoodie Guy'.

 

They remembered the cowboy...

 

They really thought about the Hoodie Guy.

 

None of us have ever known anyone who had 'seen' a demon.... I mean, it's not a normal dinner table conversation when you have friends over..

 

"So... have you seen any demons lately??"

 

They encouraged me to talk to another pastor and read Scripture with me...

 

I knew they'd be praying about it and I knew they were bothered by it, too.

 

By this time we were preparing to move to another state... our adoption journey had changed course 100% and we were back to square one; no potential birthmoms and we now had to change agencies.

 

The next week was moving week... Joey was going ahead of us to start his new job and Hannah and I were going to wait for the movers ("we'll be there sometime between Monday and Friday."), stay at my parents' house (4 hours away) for a few days, and drive to our new house with my mom.

 

Joey left on a Sunday morning and I layed down for a nap soon after he left....

 

He came.

 

But this time? Joey wasn't there to look under the bed or walk around the house or check on Hannah.... and I was paralyzed.

 

This was the first time he had come in the middle of the day.

 

I called my dad.... he and my brother were at our house that night and they stayed until the movers came (on Thursday :-/).

 

It was real... my fear, the guy, the association between where we were in our adoption journey and faith and where we were headed... where we were allowing Satan to lead us.

 

Five times.

 

He came 5 times.

 

I had to make a choice....

 

Either I was going to continue to allow Satan to paralyze me, both physically and Spiritually...

 

Or

 

I was going to stop him; I had to make our move a fresh start... spiritually, physically, and emotionally.

 

I had to not only accept that our plans weren't the right plans but I had to embrace the new start that God was giving me.

 

I didn't have any answers as to 'why' the past year had been what it was...

 

But I knew who was in control and I had to welcome this fresh start.... a new beginning....

 

without the Hoodie Guy.

 

Without Satan.

 

It didn't happen overnight. Hoodie guy never came back.... but there were days... there still are... when Joey and I woke up knowing that Satan was going to try and give us a run for our money. There were nights when Joey would sit at the top of the stairs while we were all in bed, daring Satan to attack us again...

 

There are nights when I go to bed and catch myself wondering if I should look under the bed... just in case... Just like a kid who asks her Daddy to look for monsters before he turns the light off.

 

I refuse to let dark follow me.... when I turn the lights off downstairs, I always leave one on so when I walk up the stairs, I can look back down and see light, not darkness.

 

I never walk fully into a dark room.... the flashlight app is on my homescreen.

 

 

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

Palm 23:4

 

I know that hoodie guy won't come back...

 

Do I know that Cowboy and Hoodie are the last?

 

No.

 

(I still don't really understand the cowboy's role.... was he just easing me into all of this?!)

 

But ask me again.....

 

Do I believe in demons?

 

Yep.

 

More than believing in demons, I believe in Spiritual Warfare.

 

I believe that when God's plan leads you into something uncomfortable... something that has the potential to test you and your faith... that Satan can and often will find his way in.

 

The bad news?

 

You can't do anything to avoid it.

 

I believe that Satan attacks everyone... our Pastor has mentioned such attacks on his own faith.

 

The good news?

 

You don't have to fight him.... God has already won that battle.

 

You believe that there is one God. Good! Even the demons believe that – and shudder.           

James 2:19

 

Maybe I'm crazy.... but if 'crazy' is what challenges me to stay strong in my faith and put all of my hope in the Lord?

 

It's ok... I can 'do' crazy!

 

My point?

 

We all have our 'infertility' or 'adoption journey'.... something that Satan is using to break you.

Ok, so maybe you don't have a Cowboy or Hoodie Guy....

 

Is it a guy that's not your husband? A woman that's not your wife? Maybe it's the promise of more money.... or the loss of a child... or a spouse who doesn't share your beliefs..... or a child you can't seem to 'get through to'.... or an upcoming move... Maybe it's your own infertility journey... adoption process?

 

Whatever 'it' is... you either are or will soon be in a place where you can allow it to become your demon... or you can choose, sometimes over and over and over again, to accept a new start... one that might not be what you envisioned, but one that has the potential to be better... because it's in line with where God has been leading you this whole time.

 

Who or what is your cowboy or hoodie guy?

 

Maybe it makes you feel crazy.... but crazy isn't that bad...

 

take my word for it ;-)

 

 

 



Signs are to the eyes what words are to the ears...

If you're a follower of our Facebook page, this might be redundant.... bear with me while I catch up a little ;-)

Obviously, so much was going on when Hunter was born that some 'typical' tests and protocol just weren't priority until he stabilized. Apgar scores were recorded so this includes things like foot and hand prints, hearing and vision testing, etc.

Our decision to have Hunter flown to the NICU closer to our 'new' home was made quickly and the Medi-Jet arrived in record time so discharge tests and exams all happened very quickly! In a matter of about an hour Hunter had Heart, Liver, and Kidney ultra-sounds, vision screening, tons of blood work, hearing screening, PT evals, and probably a whole lot more that I don't remember.

I do remember his hearing screening and I remember that he failed.

This didn't mean that he couldn't hear but it did mean that we would need to follow up when we got home with an audiologist.

Our new NICU repeated almost every test that was done previously because they had newer and more cutting-edge technology... and they just wanted to create their own 'vision' of who Hunter was. They repeated his newborn hearing screening and he failed again.

One of the DOZENS of post-NICU appointments that was made for us was with an Audiologist who would conduct another ABR... a test that would measure Auditory Brain stem Response... or, how Hunter's brain responds to sounds; how do the bones vibrate... or do they?! How does the sound travel through his inner ear... or does it?!

He failed again.

This time, it was very clear that Hunter was 'failing' his hearing screens because there was the detection of fluid in his inner ear.... if fluid is in your ear, the bones won't conduct sound.

So we headed to the ENT to discuss if tubes were a logical next step in learning more about Hunter's hearing.

And we all know how that went.... we got TUBES!

The ABR was repeated a 4th time while Hunter was still sedated after surgery.... and he failed again.

Are we frustrated yet?! Ugh.

Hunter's ears were very full of fluid and they drained for WEEKS after his tubes were placed!

We saw the Audiologist again about 3 weeks after his tube surgery and Hunter was finally old enough to have a Behavioral Test vs. another ABA...

** An ABA is only successful if the baby is sleeping or completely still throughout the testing; Hunter never sleeps, period so these were VERY hard tests!

** A Behavioral Test is done in a booth ... various sounds are presented to the infant and the Audiologist records the infant's responses to each sound. This gives the Audiologist a detailed record of what sounds, at what pitches and frequencies the infant is hearing.

Here's the thing...

We have known since we brought Hunter home from the hospital in May 2012 that he doesn't respond to voices and daily noise like Hannah did at his age. He has never turned to look when Mommy or Daddy walk into the room.... he doesn't jump or wake up when the dog barks... he doesn't startle in his sleep...

Knowing that your baby doesn't hear your voice is hard.... and scary.

Hunter takes his social cues from faces.... if he can't see your face (ex. at night, in the car, etc), he panics. You can see in his eyes... "Is everything ok?" "Is Mommy happy or sad?!" "Should I be happy or sad?"

And when one of us has a bad day... so does he.

If you're holding him and he can't see your face, he'll make you look at him.... by touching your cheek, turning your head, or even hitting you... he'll do whatever he can to see your eyes because when he can't, he is insecure.

Sitting in a booth, facing a wall, and knowing that you're expected to respond to something... but you can't hear or see anything... is terrifying to a baby...

to Hunter.

Behavioral tests are stressful for him... they always give accurate information... but they're tough.

It's tough on Mommy, too.

Yesterday was our last behavioral test with a new Audiologist.... She had reviewed Hunter's file and precious test results and when she walked in the room, she didn't introduce herself, she didn't shake my hand, she didn't smile...

"Why doesn't this baby have hearing aids?!?!"

Thank you, Lord.

We have never asked anyone to pray that Hunter's hearing would be restored or that he would pass any of these hearing tests.... we've only been praying for hearing aids!

OUR BABY NEEDS TO HEAR OUR VOICES!!!!

When you can't hear, you can't talk... and he's not talking.

When you can't hear, you can't respond to your environment...

When you can't hear, your own noise level is awkward... and loud.

Hunter needs one more ABR under sedation in order to get accurate frequencies of sound for his hearing aids... this ABR is scheduled for late May (I'm praying for a cancellation before then!!) and, if insurance authorizations and the hearing aid mold process all go as planned...

We'll leave that last ABR with hearing aids.

Our baby will hear.

He'll know what I sound like when I sing to him... he'll get excited when Daddy comes home from work and calls his name... he'll be able to 'talk' on the phone with our family who doesn't live here... he'll recognize Jesus Loves Me and will find comfort in lullabies played in his room...

In the mean time, our job is to learn sign language.

As excited as we are that Hunter will finally hear, we also understand that words and noises will have no meaning to him...

we have to teach him!

Our plan is to learn 5 signs as a family each week.... incorporate them in our daily lives, live and breath them.

We didn't waste any time connecting with our state's Deaf and Hard of Hearing Department and ordering whatever books and DVDs we could find!

Here's a very rough look into what Hunter does and doesn't hear...

He can hear most of what is below the red line but at a much much lower pitch than you or I do.... he cannot hear what is above the red line; namely, voices. (PS... Technology today AMAZES me!)

It's so exciting and comforting to know what he can and cannot hear.... it keeps us grounded and patient. We're excited to know how we can communicate with him now.... and love knowing that, SOON, he will be able to hear us!

Anxiety is there, yes.

But today, this happened....

Today was my first day at my new gym ... It is not a coincidence that the director of the kids program is profoundly deaf. I walked in to pick up my kids and he was sitting on the floor with Hannah and Hunter, teaching them sign language. I will never forget that sight as long as I live and can't even find words to describe what it did for my heart.

I am so thankful that God continues to intentionally place people in our lives who encourage, support, and teach us every day! He is so so good (if I haven't mentioned it before ;-))!

Hannah and I picked our first 5 signs last night....

 Signs are to the eyes what words are to the ears....


Hannah's signs to my eyes are what God's signs are to my heart.


God showed me a sign today... in the form of a man who ministered to my children.


And if that's what happens when I go to the gym, watch out! This Mama's gonna get ripped! HA!