Right Place, Right Time

I love watching God work. 

My last visit yesterday was supposed to be at 2:00. I had an opening at 1:00, and offered to move my 2:00 to that time slot, and the family agreed (2:00 tends to be right before nap, so 1:00 worked much better for the family anyways). I decided to stop by the gym on my way to the office afterwards, but took my time getting there. Responded to some texts, scheduled work stuff, etc etc. As I was coming out of the bathroom at the gym I saw a man on all fours on the gym floor. I was puzzled, but not overly concerned (people generally want to be left alone while they work out, so I minded my own business). I was putting my bag on the shelf and saw him collapse. I called the gym manager, John, over and we tried to wake him up. It didn't work. I said "we need to call 911," and then directed John to do so. John flips the man onto his back as he talks with 911. I yell at the only other guy in the place (wearing headphones, oblivious) and tell him to straighten the mans legs out because they were crossed. I wanted the blood to flow as well as it could. After he's flipped over I immediately see that his face is purple. He takes a couple very shallow breaths, but nothing consistent. He stares into space, no responses. I check his pulse. He doesn't have one. John is getting the defibrillator and talking with 911 as I'm doing this. When I don't feel a pulse, I immediately start doing compressions. I knew I had to pray for this man, but I didn't have time for words. All I could say was, "please Lord -please Lord!"  After doing several rounds of compressions he inhales very rapidly and deeply, like one coming out of water. I check his pulse again; it is faint, but there. John has the defibrillator out at this point. I keep the man calm and steady until help arrives, about 6-7 minutes after the phone call. 6-7 minutes. He would still be dead if somebody on the scene hadn't done something. 

If I was there five minutes earlier - or had come in five minutes later, that man would still be dead. I would have missed him completely.  I don't say that to boast; I say it to draw attention to the fact that it's so much more than coincidence. John didn't see him go down. The other man in the gym had no idea. I keep playing it over and over again in my head - what if things were different? The man had just joined the gym over the weekend. What if he hadn't been there? What if I hadn't been there? Where else would his heart have stopped? Would somebody else be there to help him in that case? Gods Providential Power was truly evident yesterday - and is evident every day if we just open our eyes. 

We went to the hospital to visit him today. On our way into the hospital we see this:

Yep, that's a full rainbow. You seeing the providence yet? 

He's doing remarkably well. He has an internal defibrillator, but it failed yesterday. He is having it replaced on Tuesday. Please pray for him. You may not know his name, but God does. We brought him balloons, one of which said "Welcome Back." He thought it was funny. 😊 

Moral of the story: take CPR classes. If you can't do that, YouTube how to do compression only CPR. Because you never know when someone needs you to save their life. I'm beyond blessed and jubilant that God chose me to save someone's yesterday.  So blessed. ❤️

Sent by Love

"We love him, because he first loved us." 1 John 4:19

"And we have seen and do testify that the Father sent the Son to be the Savior of the world." 1 John 4:14

The word sent means, to cause, permit, or enable to go. I never understood the significance of that word, in combination with verse 19, until now. 

The scariest thing I've had to send my son into is surgery; knowing full well that there is a chance, albeit small, that he may not wake up from the anesthesia. I have had to send my newborn daughter in for echocardiograms to see how her heart is functioning, knowing full well that there is a chance we would have to stay another night in the NICU (and we did). I can only imagine the feelings a mom may have as she sends her son or daughter off to war.  A dad that sends his only son off to college. The word "send" in a human sense has much emotion tied to it, especially when paired with a person. Imagine, however, how things would be different if we could see into the future, and see what lies ahead - after we have "sent" those we love. Knowing the future with either create hope or chaos. In Gods case- He saw what would happen. He saw all the pain and anguish that his only son would have to suffer on that cross. He saw all of the sin debt put on Jesus' shoulders. He saw the moment that He would have to turn his face away from his Son, in his deepest hour of need, because the sin was too great to look upon. He saw all of that - but sent His Son anyway. Like a sheep headed to the slaughterhouse; completely blameless and innocent. 

God did that for me. God did that for you. That, my friends, is love. Love that I can't understand or fathom - but by Gods example, I can show love to others as well. 

My Normal is not Normal

Having lupus at a young age complicates many matters.
The biggest matter it complicates is my health.

I had a visit with my gynecologist today to check on Ms. McKayla (mind you, this is the third gynecologist I've seen this year).  She is doing well and has a strong heartbeat, which is comforting.  I didn't expect, however, to be so struck with sadness upon my doctor's recommendations in regards to delivery.

With Mr. Micah my pregnancy was pretty much smooth sailing.  The only complication I had was pre-eclampsia, which only occurred during labor.  To combat the high blood pressure, they gave me "mag," (magnesium sulfate), which slowed contractions.  To speed up contractions, they gave me "pit," (pitocin).  Pitocin has been known to cause "monster contractions," and that it did.  The pain could only be equaled to breaking your legs, waiting 60 seconds, then breaking them again.  I'm not exaggerating, either.  I dealt with and worked through that pain for 12 hours with Micah - and I think it spurred on the development of my lupus symptoms afterwards.  My body went through a huge amount of stress that day.

I knew going into this second surprise pregnancy that I would be considered "high risk" again, but thankfully like last time things are smooth-sailing so far.  Even the blood work that my rheumatologist completed a couple weeks ago that showed anemia, elevated liver enzymes, protein in my urine, elevated glucose, and inflammation/infection didn't concern my gynecologist today.  I'm grateful for this.

I had been expecting to deliver Ms. McKayla early, but only because of my moms birth history (which so far I've followed almost exactly).  When my doctor made the suggestion to be induced at 38 weeks, it wasn't exactly a new thought for me; but it was different hearing it being suggested by a doctor.

It may not sound like a big deal - many women get induced, get an epidural, and have a smooth delivery.  That's not my point.  The aspect that hurts is that I so badly want to be a normal pregnant women and give birth the way I want - to labor at home; to have a home birth; to give birth in a warm bath; to let my body do what it was made to do.  My doctor is open to this too, of course; but told me the reality that the chances of having high blood pressure only increase as my due date approaches. He wants to avoid the chance of complications - and so do I!  No doubt - having pre-eclampsia with Micah was miserable, and put both myself and Micah at risk.  Of course I don't want that for McKayla - but still, I just long to be normal.

Being young with lupus makes my "normal" completely different than everyone else's "normal."  My normal workout most days won't be running a mile; it'll be cleaning the house.  My normal amount of sleep will never be eight hours; it will have to be 10-12 (with no guarantee of feeling rested afterwards); my normal baby delivery will probably never be a home birth - and that hurts.  It's a broken dream that's hard to let go of.

My normal is not normal - and that's the hardest part of having lupus.


Choosing to give thanks to God today for a healthy baby and pregnancy - and praying for wisdom in regards to getting her in my arms - safe, secure, and healthy.

Rainbows

Genesis 9:16 "And the (rain)bow shall be in the cloud; and I will look upon it, that I may remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is upon the earth." 

Now here's something interesting. The homosexual community has long used a rainbow to symbolize it's culture. So much so, in fact, that wearing a rainbow or having one displayed means you associate yourself with that culture. 

I'm sorry - but we've missed something here. God first created the rainbow in Genesis 9 to represent His covenant, His promise, to never destroy the earth with a flood again. Yet we as the human race have taken God's symbol of a promise and twisted it to mis-represent one of the founding principles, the covenant, of a Biblical marriage. Gay marriage is not marriage in the eyes of God. Displaying a rainbow as a means to represent this "tolerant" society is the devils sly way of taking something from God and making it his own. However - if you've ever read Revelation, you'd know that the devil doesn't win. People think they are winning; but in the end they'll lose. 

So if you see me displaying a rainbow, know I'm not supporting gay "marriage." I'm displaying Gods promise - and that is something I'm proud of. 

Miracle Baby

From time to time I like to go into our spare bedroom and reminisce on all the people that have stayed in there.  Some for a day; others for a week; others for months.  About 10 people have stayed in that spare bedroom for one reason or another.  I love that about our house.  I always want to have an open door to someone who needs one.  Now I have something new to think about - preparing that room for another baby.  Not a baby that will come and possibly go back to their birth family - but a baby that will stay forever.

For those that don't know, let me provide a back-story.
When I was a few months pregnant with Micah, I was miserable.  I was gaining too much weight; I was labeled high-risk and had doctors appointments that lasted at least one hour at least every other week.  I was exhausted.  My sinuses were constantly under attack, leading to sneezing fits that pulled muscles in my rib cage.   I wasn't sleeping well, was horribly constipated, my feet were swollen, and everything was just - harder.  As I was laying on the table waiting for the nurse to check for my Micah's heartbeat, I heard God's voice say, "enjoy this moment Lauren - you may never get to experience it again."  Words SO clear and SO profound, they brought tears to my eyes.

When Micah was about 3-4 months old, Ray and I started trying for baby #2.  Yes, we were crazy; but we were crazy in love with this little boy and wanted another SO bad.  Months went by.  Then a year.  Eighteen months.  No pregnancy.  My prayers at that time sounded something like,

God, please let me get pregnant.  Not our wills God - but yours be done.  If you don't want me to have another baby, please show us what we should do.  

Already, God had laid it on our hearts to adopt.  Fostering hadn't quite entered our minds yet.  After 18 months of infertility, I reached my breaking point.  I was so depressed and frustrated.  I just wanted another baby!!! I changed the words God said during my pregnancy with Micah to, "you WILL NEVER get to experience this again."  I changed God's words because it was easier to accept a for-sure "never" then a "maybe."  I didn't like the uncertainty.  God showed me through a study in Genesis that just like Sarah, I should be content with my only son - and grateful to boot!  I started focusing on all the negative things in my pregnancy instead of the positive aspects.  I ruminated on the negative to ease the pain.  Then, as God lead the right people into our path - the pain was replaced with purpose. A purpose to reach out to the fatherless and the afflicted.  Hence, we started our foster care journey.  After six months of paperwork, training, and more paperwork - we were licensed in January of 2014.  My prayers changed then.

God, please lead the right children to our home.  Keep them safe - meet all their needs.  Take care of them and take away their fears.  Help us to be the foster parents we need to be.  

After our first couple placements (three boys, one girl), that all lasted six weeks or less, my prayer changed again.

God, please give me a little girl that will steal my heart and stay forever.  

Then baby A came and she wore me out.  My lupus went into a downward spiral.  I was exhausted.  I was burned out.  I needed a break - and that's exactly what we did.

It wasn't until February 2015 that we decided to go back on the openings list.  After paperwork, time, and more paperwork - we were one week away from having a home inspection and going back on the active list.  My prayers changed again:

God, please let the right little one to our home that will blend in perfectly with our family.  A child that will get along well with Micah and would be a perfect addition to our family.  

Mind you - a biological baby was never, NEVER on my mind.  Having another baby hasn't been on my radar in two years.  So when I came down with severe vomiting and stomach pain - I was concerned (and so was my doctor).  My doctor was concerned I had pancreatitis; not a completely unknown issue with lupus.  He ran stat blood work and ordered a stat CT scan the same day, telling me to come back to his office when I was finished to go over the results.  When I was getting ready to go in for my CT scan, my doctor comes into the room from out of nowhere (seriously - he had to have run from his office to the CT room to get there in time), and he tells me I had a positive pregnancy test.  Was I happy?  Not in the least.  My first words were - "are you kidding me?" and "well my life sucks."  Keep in mind the past two years have been filled with all the negative things about pregnancy.  I thought about the negatives to get through the pain of infertility.  But now that it has sunk in - and I'm nine weeks along - I can truly say that this is a miracle baby.

Four years of infertility.
One of those years on birth control to regulate my hormones (which didn't work).
Two months off of birth control, only one real "cycle" occurring (I didn't have a period in February at all).
I have active lupus.
The chances of pregnancy in my book?  Slim to none.  Even my doctors had never done a pregnancy test before that day.

But it seems God is always on time.  All those prayers I prayed all those years ago - He's answered them.  My heart is joyful.  I am grateful.  I am blessed, because I am chosen.

"He maketh the barren woman to keep house, and to be a joyful mother of children.PRAISE YE THE LORD." Psalm 113:9

Least of These

"Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me. Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee? Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." Matthew 25:34-40

Who doesn't love a baby? Most people do. Sweet chubby cheeks, tender smiles and giggles, that wonderful smell of baby powder after a diaper change. What's not to love? 

But what is the value of a baby in the economy? They can't work. They can't earn a living. Depending on the age, they can do very little to nothing for themselves. They consume, they cry, they demand attention. They could be considered the "least" as far as economical value and worth is concerned. The value is in the eye of the beholder; wrapped with strong ties of emotion and that warm fuzzy feeling you get inside when an innocent baby smiles at you. They may be the least to some - but to someone else, they are the greatest. 

Children in foster care could be considered the least. Most (like 99% as an my non-educated guess) come with serious baggage. They have out-of-control tantrums. They're sick and have a constant runny nose. They scream for no reason at the top of their lungs. They're inconsolable to your touch, because they've never been soothed before. They bang their heads on the floor or self-harm.  You can almost always guarantee they have a history clouded by abuse and neglect in one form or another. They are the least; the smallest thought on our enormous list of things to deal with and consider. But the least should be greatest. 

I was watching an old rerun of the show Reba today, mostly because Ray just happened to stop on that channel. The episode was filmed after hurricane Katrina. Reba had a large black family living under her roof as refugees from the devastation. She was stressed. She wanted to give up. Then the refugee mom pointed to Matthew 25:35 in her Bible and read it aloud. I cried. So much is sacrificed when you open your home to foster children; but it astonishes me to think that those sweet faces I cried over, the runny noses I wiped countless times, the weekly trips to the doctor, the messes, putting up with the screams, the ridiculous tantrums, my fruitless attempts at preventing the self-harming - they were all for Jesus. Good gracious - how quick I would be to wipe the nose of Jesus if He were sick! I would clean up His messes with JOY because He cleaned up the mess I made of my life. To think that everything I dealt with and went through with those five children last year was for Him - it was undeniably worth it. The least of these. Sweet children who didn't have a choice. Children who were forced to cope in whatever way possible, even if that meant eating trash off the floor for some means of sustenance. 

This is real folks. I've been called - you've been called. We're supposed to care for the least of these. Maybe you can't be a foster parent; but can you pray for those that are? Can you provide a meal for a foster mom that just got a new placement? Can you buy diapers? Can you help the single foster mom catch up on housework? You might not be called to be a foster parent - but you've been called to serve the least of these. Not for the foster parents; not for the child; but for Gods Kingdom. For Gods Glory. After all - He did it for us when we were there. We owe Him the same. 

To Cherish, Upon Regret

As I finish up a bedtime story with my Micah-B, he asks, "can we snuggle?" Even though it's late, I can't say no! These four years have flown by so quickly, and no matter how much I wish for those days when I could hold him in one arm, those days will never come back. Not with my Micah-B. With him being our first, I was determined to do everything perfect, enforcing sleeping in his own crib at three weeks (because I wasn't getting ANY sleep with him next to me), putting him on a feeding schedule (largely unsuccessful due to his horrid reflux), etc. etc. Maybe time just changes things - maybe there are things that only experienced mommas know - but if I could turn back the clock, I would have spent more time holding his tiny fragile body; more time caressing his tender, soft skin (which thankfully he still has!); more time breathing in that sweet baby scent; and more time just being close to him. So many regrets! But he's not my only baby I have regrets with. I have regrets with Baby A too. I have regrets with Baby J. I regret not making myself emotionally available to them. I regret seeing "order" and "scheduling" and a clean house more important than their needs. 

Moving forward, I don't want to be afraid to fall in love. I don't want to be afraid that the floor will just NOT get vacuumed this week. I don't want to be afraid that I'll get attached to my fosters. I realized upon finding out that Baby A is getting adopted that I missed out because I sheltered my heart from losing her. The old adage, "it's better to have loved and lost than never loved at all," is true. Because my heart aches for "what could have been" in her short stay with us if I wasn't so harsh. If I wasn't so guarded. If I wasn't so uptight. So many regrets, and it just hurts. 

Several years ago a singer (and momma of 10 children!) came to our church. I was pregnant at the time and asked for her advice.  She told me, "cherish them while they're young." It's something you can't understand until you see them grow, then hope to do better with the next one. Children grow so quickly. There is never enough time. 

If you're being called to foster, don't be afraid to love. God wasn't afraid to love you, even though He already knew you'd break His heart someday. It's selfish to stay out of a ministry that DESPERATELY needs workers because you're afraid you'll get hurt. It's also selfish to hold back love that a child deserves because of the same reason. I've been selfish. Foolishly selfish. But I'm determined to be different the next time around. God, please help me to be different! Help me to love those children the way you love me!

Because life is too short, and each day is a gift. A precious experience that can never be re-lived. 

Cherish:  to care for tenderly; nurture: to cherish a child

The Future.

I see her face. Light skin; blonde hair that brushes her shoulders. Almond-shaped eyes. They're blue. Beautiful blue. She has a smile that brightens a dark room. She's beautiful. 

How old is she? Maybe two; three, or even four. Her size doesn't give any clues. She's small for her age, likely due to malnutrition and a poor diet. 

She has no family to call her own. She has loving arms that take care of her now; but it isn't forever. They can't commit for that long. For forever. 

I see her face on a regular basis. Continual, even. Never in person; not yet. Right now she's just an image in my mind. An image of someone I have yet to meet. Maybe I will some day. 

My friends - if you don't have a relationship with God, you'll have no concept or understanding of this post. The girl I see on a daily basis is an image from God. I've had my heart open to adopting a girl with Down Syndrome for years. Yes, years. Even before our fostering journey began. I will be honest in saying that my heart has no desire to foster any more. God says "she" won't be found that way. Fostering is beyond stressful. My body can't take it. This past year showed me that. People think I'm crazy for considering a child with special needs, saying that it will be 10 times more stressful than what I dealt with this past year. 

But when you're called, you answer. 

Maybe not now. Maybe ten years from now. 

But I still see her face. Her beautiful face with blue eyes the color of the sky. 

My beautiful girl. I'm waiting for you to come home. And someday, she will. 

Lupus.

If you don't want to hear me gripe and complain, then you shouldn't read this.
But having an invisible disease takes its toll - and I need to vent.
If you want to get a glimpse of a day in the life of lupus, then read on.

My day often starts with stiffness.  I wake up and turn off my alarm to get ready for work.  My joints pop and crack.  The stiffness usually only lasts an hour or less, which I'm grateful for.  If I sit down for more than 30 minutes, it returns and I have to start all over.

I usually have miscellaneous pain during the day, which I take Meloxicam to help control (and it does, to a great extent).  Of course, I also take tart cherry extract and MSM as supplements, which also help alleviate pain.  I'll have pain in my elbows, hips (very common), fingers, wrists, ankles, toes, arches of my feet, my shins (seriously), my spine, etc.  Thankfully, most of the pain doesn't last long (maybe an hour or less).  Sometimes I get headaches too, and those are really bad.  They make it hard to concentrate.

My toes and fingers will also go numb out of nowhere sometimes.  About a week ago the last joint on my thumb was numb.  Thumb-numb.  Hey it rhymes! :D I'm a poet and I didn't even know it.

Then there's the fatigue.  THE most debilitating symptom of all.  I have good days and bad days.  And sleep doesn't make a difference.  I can induce myself to sleep by taking Benadryl and wake up feeling no more rested than I did when I laid down.  Common occurrence.  I'm thankful to have a primary doctor that is willing to meet my needs when my Rheumatologist isn't able by prescribing me a stimulant to get through the "bad days."  And yes, I take Vitamin B, Vitamin D (4000 IU/day), green tea, etc. etc.  On a bad day, nothing makes a difference.  No supplements, no amount of water, green tea, or coffee.  Nothing makes a difference on a bad day.  That's why they're bad days.

Then there's the sun sensitivity.  And the lupus rash.  At this moment my cheeks look like I've been sunburned - but I actually avoid the sun like the plague.  Because 30 minutes in the sun doesn't faze a "normal" person, but it will give me a sunburn and physically make my skin FEEL like it's burning.  Itches really bad too.  My cheeks also get really dry and scaly for no reason - and nothing makes a difference with that either.  No "special" moisturizer, no "expensive" facial cleanser.  It's just me.  It's just my lupus.

I take a total of 17 vitamins, supplements, and prescriptions every day.  Before I started taking the supplements and vitamins I was in pain 99% of my day.  The fatigue was unbearable - to the point where I could hardly keep my eyes open if I wasn't physically doing something.  The fatigue still sucks, but it isn't nearly as bad as it used to be.

I've determined there's no point in hiding my lupus.  There's no point in pretending "I'm ok" and "I feel fine."  Because the truth is, some days I just feel like crap.  Some days I hurt all over and feel like I have the flu (like today, for example) - but have no other symptoms except body aches.  Every joint hurts.  Some days I just have to come home and curl up on the couch with heavy clothes and blankets because the pain is so bad and I'm so cold (temperature sensitivity happens frequently too).

Some days I honestly think I should invest in a cane.  A pretty cane.  Maybe hot pink and lime green with groovy flowers on it.  Because there are some days when I walk like an 80 year old woman because my joints are so stiff, and it's hard to walk.

So if you see me moving slow and hear my joints pop and crack after sitting for 30 minutes or more; or hear me make noises like an old woman - just know I'm not acting.  Lupus is real, and it sucks.  But I know God gave me these symptoms to lift up others.  To help others see that with Him all things truly ARE possible.

I don't know where lupus will take me - but I know God is with me every step of the way; and there is NOTHING to hard for Him.

Reason.

I can't say the past week has been easy. I can say that having an "equivocal" result in my bloodwork was the last thing I thought I would hear. The worst thing. Lupus is a horrible disease. But now my symptoms have a name. 

I won't lie - it can be very discouraging and depressing to think I have lupus. I've struggled with widespread pain and exhaustion for 10+ years. I went through tests upon tests upon tests as a kid to determine the "why" of it all, without ever finding out why. But now I know why. At least, I know the cause of my debilitating symptoms. I can deal with the pain. The fatigue is the worst. No amount of caffeine helps. No amount of green tea. Nothing helps the fatigue. I just have to muddle through the day until I can crash - hoping that tomorrow will be better. But I really never know if it will be. 

Job had some major issues in his life. He lost everything - family, friends; even his own wife told him to "curse God and die." He was covered in boils and blisters at one point and was miserable beyond comprehension. 

But he stayed faithful. 

"My foot hath held his steps, his way have I kept, and not declined." Job 23:11

I like how Job mentions in chapter 23 that God remained in control of his situation. 

"But he knoweth the way that I take; when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold. For he performeth the thing that is appointed for me: and many such things are with him." Job 23:10,14

Job also mentions that God chose to lead Job into the darkness. He didn't keep him from it. 

"For God maketh my heart soft, and the Almighty troubleth me: because I was not cut off before the darkness, neither hath he covered the darkness from my face." Job 23:17

God doesn't always promise deliverance from tough situations. He doesn't promise it will be easy. God does promise - and has promised to me - that he will be with me and walk with me through this. 

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." Psalm 23:4

God is with me through this. I know I'm in his hands - through my "good" days, and especially during the awful ones. 

I will choose this day to praise Him - no matter the circumstance. 

The Day She Became Mine

For those that read my last blog post and responded with prayer - I thank you from the bottom of my heart.  God has spoken to me SO much the past two weeks and has shown me His unfailing, undying love and care for me.  Thank you for your prayers for my weak heart; they were heard.

I love shopping.  Especially sales.  And thrift stores.  On Monday of last week I took a couple hours off and spent some much-needed time with my husband.  The first stop was Cracker Barrel (one of my favorite places - food and shopping combined!!!) They were having a 75% off sale on select clothing.  I saw this adorable onesie that was completely girlified with pink ruffles and a ruffled hedgehog on the front.  It was on sale for $2! I couldn't resist.  I had to buy it.  Last Saturday Ray and I had some foster parent training and were released early, so we stopped by the Thrift Store in Plano to get Micah some clothes.  I was rummaging through the miscellaneous baggies of different parts and pieces and came across an adorable little purse baby rattle, still in the package.  It was $3.  But I hesitated.  Fear passed through my veins.  Why, you ask?

Because if I buy something specifically for her (other than the necessities), I'm taking a risk.
The risk that I'll get attached.
The risk that I'll get attached and have to let her go tomorrow.
The risk that my heart will be broken.
Yes, true fear came over me when I considered buying the rattle.  Truthfully, I haven't bought anything for baby A that wasn't a necessity up until this point.  All the clothes I have for her were donated; they hold no sentimental aspect for me.

But that onesie...that rattle...spending a measly $5 for baby A...that made her mine.

I would never have given a second thought to buying Micah a toy similar to that when he was a baby.  Because I knew he wasn't going anywhere.  I knew he wouldn't be moving to someone else's house.  I knew he wouldn't be taken away.  I treasured every moment (and still do) with my Micah.  Because he's mine.  He's my only son.  I carried him for nine months and sang to him daily.  He's a part of me and always will be.

I didn't carry baby A for nine months.  I didn't even know her name until she showed up at my front door.  But since day one she's had a connection with me.  From that first smile she gave me, I knew it.

She may not be mine forever.  I may have to let her go tomorrow.  But for today - she's mine.  She's my daughter.  And the joy that brings me is indescribable.

Thank you for your prayers, friends.  This ministry is a very hard one.  But I'm thankful for the joy that God has provided.

"Then he said unto them, Go your way, eat the fat, and drink the sweet, and send portions unto them for whom nothing is prepared: for this day is holy unto our Lord: neither be ye sorry; 

for the joy of the LORD is your strength." 

Nehemiah 8:10

Just Breathe.

There's a little shop in down town McKinney called The Stalk.  I stopped there briefly on my way to get the kids from daycare because it's been on my "I want-I should" list for a while.  I bought myself some Stargazer Lilies (my favorite) just because.  They're starting to bloom now.  They're fragrance is heavenly.

Got to see my husband for 30 minutes today when he came home for his lunch break.  I still get all giddy when I see him.

Spent some time outside to *finally* refill the bird feeders (it's been about three months).  Also made some more hummingbird nectar and some suette for the Blue Jays.  I love watching those giant blue birds in my backyard.  They're mean little buggers, but so pretty to look at.

I loved getting my feet wet and letting my hair get all frizzy outside.  Its refreshing to feel the cool rain drizzle on my toes.  I relished in being outside, carrying on my grandfather's legacy by caring for nature.  He loved birds (sold exotic water fowl for a living).  I remember him waking up at dawn to go feed the ducks, geese, and peacocks.  Of course there was always something for the little guys too.  Some of the feeders he used are still being used by my parents today.

It's far too infrequent that I sit back and just enjoy the things God has given me.  A cool breeze; a head full of (thin) hair; a balanced budget that just seems to work (against all odds).  A wonderful husband.  A sweet smart boy to call my son.  So many things to be thankful for.  Grateful for.  I just need to slow down and breathe it all in.

grateful:

adjective

1.

warmly or deeply appreciative of kindness or benefits received;thankful.

Fragmented thoughts of a foster mom

Some days are just hard. 

Some days I find it's harder to love her. I don't remember if I felt that wat about Micah. Like it was decades ago that he was a baby or something. 

Some days I honestly question why God led us to this place. Maybe He just made a mistake. He should have chosen somebody else. I don't have enough patience or endurance for this. 

But I know God doesn't make mistakes. 

It's just been one of those days. 

She starts screaming half an hour before her scheduled feeding time. Do I buckle down and feed her, or do I make her wait? And if I feed her early, will she wake up early? I honestly would prefer to sleep past 7:00am tomorrow. 

I'm a speech pathologist. I do feeding therapy with kids 0-3. I should know these things. 

But it doesn't come naturally when they are "your" kids. It just doesn't. 

Maybe it's just the CCMS drama that's causing so much stress in my life. When you get a foster care subsidy and the ENTIRE THING goes to child care, it's harder. At least with our last placement (two boys with fetal alcohol syndrome), I could come to the end of my day and say, "I made $25 for putting up with your crap today." Sorry. Brutal truth there. 

But I shouldn't think about the money. That's not why we started all of this. Maybe I just don't like buying clothes and diapers and doing free babysitting for someone else's kid. Is that outrageous? Maybe I just don't love enough. I don't have enough of Gods spirit in me. Certainly anyone who had God in their heart would never feel that way, right? 

Again with my patience. What was God thinking? I just don't understand. Not that I'm supposed to know everything. If I did, I wouldn't need God in the first place. 

I just need a massage. I need to sit on my rear and not think about anything. Not about cleaning the house. Or laundry. Or the leftover candy Nerds that are probably all over my kitchen floor. I need to do my nails again. Not that there's a point in doing them. I need a housekeeper so I don't have to worry about chipping my nails by doing housework. But I don't want someone else cleaning my house. What if they do it wrong? I love cleaning. It's a good stress reliever. And I obviously have some of that. 

How do stay at home foster moms put up with it all? Are their kids easier? They probably just love them more. I just feel like a babysitter. And I'm ready for the parents to come home so I can leave. What a horrible thing to say. 

Are all ministries this difficult? It's amazing we have any missionaries at all. If telling people in Africa about Jesus is anything like foster care, I'd be horrible at it. Most days I feel like a horrible foster mom. And maybe I am. Certainly a good foster mom wouldn't be so impatient or critical. A good missionary should be happy to do Gods work all the time, not just when it's easy. But that doesn't sound reasonable either. 

It's just hard, and I need a break. I'm ready for baby A to move on. I'd probably miss her if she left though. Any good foster mom should miss the kids when they leave, right? But I don't miss our last placement. At. All. 

It seems like I only feel this way when I'm about to start my period. Stupid hormones. Why should I have a period when I'm not going to have any more kids? I definitely still do NOT want to be pregnant. That wasn't fun. Hormones. It's kinda fun to say that word with a Spanish accent. Like hor-mo-nes! Dork. I need to watch something funny. Laughter is the best medicine. And we all deserve a good laugh once a day, I think. 

So when life hands you lemons, make lemonade. All I have in my fridge is limes though. Limemade, maybe? With lots of sugar. Maybe Splenda. It has fewer calories after all. 😉

Who needs two bladders, anyways?

No matter the situation, I always try to find a little humor.  That explains the title.

Last weekend I was a little puzzled as to why I didn't have much of an appetite - not even for my homemade chocolate chip cookies that I made.  On Sunday I stayed home with Micah because he was running a fever - and I ended up taking TWO naps that day and still felt exhausted.  Monday was fine, but still no appetite.  On Tuesday I was at the office in the afternoon and started having what I thought were gas pains.  Took some gas-x, but the pain got worse and worse.  I had to go home early and called Ray to get off work to go pick up the kids.  The pain was SO horrible I couldn't even stand up straight.  I almost went to the emergency room but waited to see if the pain subsided - and it did.  On Wednesday I felt like I had been run over by a semi.  I was weak.  I was dizzy.  Still no appetite.  I just felt ill.  Thursday was better; didn't really have pain until the afternoon when I (finally) went to see the doctor.  My doctor had imminent concern about my gall bladder - which is what I figured it was.  He tried to get a sonogram completed that day, but wasn't able to schedule anything until Friday morning.  The lady that completed my sonogram pushed on my side until I thought I would burst - it hurt so bad!!!

Of course - like just about all my health issues - all the blood work and the sonograms of my abdomen came back NORMAL.  But my doctor (who actually called me himself to share the results) is still convinced it's my gallbladder.  He advised that I go on a clear liquid diet (basically fast for two days, drinking only water) to see if that helps.  He really wanted me to go to the ER for further testing and see if surgery would be appropriate this weekend - but I was able to sneak away with fasting for two days and checking back in on Monday.

So here I am - still no appetite (which makes fasting easier), and the pain is just as bad as it was yesterday.  No difference.  Thankfully I'm still able to function, but can't lift anything heavy (like a Mr. Micah).  My mom informed me that Sjogren's can cause chronic gall bladder disease.

This year has been a doozy as far as my health and stress levels go.  I've been trying these past two weeks to schedule time off from work - and it looks like my scheduling didn't mean anything if I have to have emergency surgery.  Bah.  I'm just hoping I'll be well enough to do the music for vacation Bible school on the 11th.  Only God could make that happen!

I know I'm in His hands.  I know that whatever He's doing right now is for my good.  Yes, I'm in pain - even more pain than usual.  But I know He'll use this to bring Him glory and honor and to help others in the future.  I'm so grateful I have His promises to hold onto no matter what organs I have to give up.

"And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." 

2 Corinthians 12:9

Six weeks in

It's be quite some time since I've posted much about anything.  Baby A has been with us for just over six weeks now.  I hope I never forget the night she came to us.  Ray put her in the baby swing as we filled out paperwork with CPS.  Her arms were flailing the entire time she was in that swing.  It was clear she had never been in one before.  She couldn't process the movement.  I offered a pacifier repeatedly, but she couldn't keep it in her mouth.  She would often cry frantically until she wore herself out - and nothing would stop the crying but herself alone.

The day after we got her was Wednesday, and I (as a brave soul) took her to church.  I had nursery duty that night, so I was able to stay in the nursery with her - as if that could have helped anything! Close to the end of service she started to lose it.  I offered a bottle - pacifier - swaddling - diaper change - everything I could think of, and nothing worked.  She had a GINORMOUS meltdown for the whole church to hear.  I admit I lost it too and started crying.  All I could think to do was hold her arms to midline, hold a pacifier in her mouth, and "shhhh" loudly in her ear.  After a few minutes of eternity, she calmed down.

The first three to four weeks are the hardest.  It took us a while to get to know each other; to get into a routine; to establish our patterns.  But baby A has made amazing progress since being with us.  For example:

1. She can hold herself up in a supported sit for about five minutes.
2. She can do tummy time for 30-45 minutes at a time. 
3. She's responding (and calming) to her name.  
4. She'll calm and stop crying when I walk in the room.  
5. She's holding her own bottle (with a little bit of help here and there).  
6. She's rolling onto her sides from her back.  
7. She can fall asleep by herself and hardly ever fusses.  
8. She doesn't need a pacifier - and often spits one out ;)
9. She will smile and drool all over you if given the chance.  
10. She's sleeping through the night (!!!!) 

I ask for deep, DEEP prayers for her mother.  I don't know her name and I've never seen her face; but I know she loves and misses her baby (certainly?) She hasn't made a single visit with baby A since she's been with us, but today she actually showed up at the CPS office for one!  It had to be rescheduled because baby A was in daycare - so hopefully mom will show up again tomorrow morning.  PLEASE pray for baby A's mom - that she'll get things in order - that God will restore the natural affection and responsibility she should have for her children.  

We've been asked frequently if we'll adopt baby A if it ever comes to that - and if God sees fit, we most certainly will!  Everything is in His hands and He is in control.  We've had a name picked out for years (even before we had kids) for a baby girl - either McKayla Joy or McKayla Christine.  Ray has always wanted a daughter named McKayla; and the middle name comes from a promise I made 15+ years ago to Joy (Bailey) Smith to name one of my kids after her.  I may not keep all promises, but I honestly intend to keep that one! 

God is in control.  He has lead us here.  He lead baby A to our home to bring us joy and remind me how much work a baby is (I asked for it, I know).  I hope we'll get to see her grow more and more; but I honestly hope more that mom will be able to get her back and stay on track.  After all - every mom, every dad - should be responsible for holding that title to its fullest extent.  Baby A is meant to be with her mommy; but if she isn't able, we will gladly step up in a heartbeat.  

Empathy with Baby A

I'm starting to see a trend with this whole foster business.

When we get a new placement, I honestly feel like everything else has to go on hold.  I find myself dreading going out in public because I honestly have NO IDEA how this certain child will do in public.

Unfortunately, life doesn't stop when you're a full-time-working foster mom.
Groceries still need to be purchased.
The church nursery still needs its worker.
Errands still need to be completed.
Dinner still has to be made - and I have to remember to eat.
But its hard.  And it seems like the only people who understand are those who have experienced it themselves - other foster parents.

It's not like having a baby.  People are sweet and compassionate and say, "congratulations!" But truly, its just
Hard.
And yes, I meant to capitalize the "H" there.

I didn't have nine months to bond with this baby.  She had never heard my voice until Tuesday.  I don't know how much she likes to eat - how often she used to be fed.  I don't know what position she likes to sleep in. Does she like a certain type of pacifier? (apparently so!) And it's become certain that she has NO control over her arms and legs when she gets upset.  Those limbs go crazy! And she can't calm herself down.

Day by day, it gets easier.  But when the baby screams her head off in the checkout lane at Kroger, I honestly just want to stick myself in the darkest hole and forget about it all.  Because people just don't understand.  Thankfully, and by God's grace, a sweet couple helped me out this evening.  Baby A was screaming and refused to take the pacifier.  I couldn't break out a bottle.  I couldn't change her diaper.  It all had to wait until I could pay for the dang groceries.

The older gentleman behind me offered to hold her for me while I paid the cashier.  If only he knew how much that truly meant to me.  He patted her back, told her it was okay.  His empathy made a world of difference for me.

It's so easy to feel so alone in the foster care world.  Because let's face it - you don't know a foster parent when you see one.  It takes the sharing of personal experiences - the opening of a heart - to understand there is someone that understands what I'm going through.

So if you see a young woman with a screaming baby the next time you go to the store - take a deep breath for her.  She needs it.  She needs your compassion.  She needs your empathy.  Just like I did today.  You never know how far a kind gesture will go.

Being a Bridge

The boys will be leaving tomorrow to live with their grandma.  The oldest jumped for JOY when I told him the news on Monday.  This is the fresh start that they've been needing - the one that we've been praying for!  We are so, SO excited for them.

The biggest reaction I get from people is one of, "oh, I'm so sorry!" or "that's so sad!" Our feelings are the exact opposite though! We are thrilled that they will be moving on in such a short period of time.  We hope that the transition to a better life will be an easy one for them.

But it isn't all cupcakes and roses in the foster world.

Part of the reasoning in our feelings is because it has been a HARD and challenging six weeks with our family of five.  Some think that having two foster kids and one bio kid is just like having three children that are yours.  But I've got to tell you - it is SO far from being the same.  In the "typical" way of having children, you have about nine months to bond with your baby - to sing to them in the womb, to get their room ready, to dream and dream about the life they will share with you.  Having foster children is nothing like that.  In both of our placements so far we were minding our own business, get a phone call, and two hours later have two more children to care for.  No idea what they like to eat.  No idea what allergies they have.  No idea what they like to wear.  If they've ever brushed their own teeth.  Ever been to the doctor.  Are they wearing underwear?  Scratch that - WHY aren't they wearing underwear?! Living a life that we know and are comfortable with, then caring for two complete strangers for an un-designated period of time. Foster care is HARD and it is STRESSFUL.  Especially for the newbies like myself.

With that in mind - I've been asked several times if we'll do the same thing again.  If we'll be open for the same thing or change our preferences now that we have gotten our feet wet.  At first my answer was to change our preferences - but foster care isn't about my comfort.  It isn't about us period.  It's about the children.

My Ray said it so appropriately  - "don't think about how hard it is for us; think about how hard it would be for them if we weren't here."

So.  True.  

So here we are.  I'm sure the house will be a TON quieter tomorrow.  I might get a little sentimental, but I'm trying not to be.  Keeping my focus - moving forward.  We will take a little break, then request to be put back on the openings list.  Then, we wait again.  Hopefully, this time for a GIRL that will steal my heart forever.

God has lead us here.  We are not alone.  He has brought us through the past six weeks.  God has helped us be the bridge that these boys needed when no one else would take them in.  Foster kids NO MORE.  And hopefully, with God's grace - never, ever again.

One Month In and FAQ's

Life with three children is busy.
Really, busy is an understatement.
The past four weeks have been full of stomach bugs, runny noses, diarrhea, coughing, and ear infections.  I've honestly already lost count with how many times I've been to the doctor in the past four weeks.  But it's probably better that way!

I've managed to balance *mostly* everything - work, school for the oldest, bus routes, daycare schedules, getting CCMS (childcare assistance), housework, etc.  Things are finally starting to calm down.  But then again - they told us in training that the first 30 days are the hardest.  And we've made it through.

Things are getting better.  Micah and oldest fight less.  Oldest has less breakdowns.  Youngest is playing independently and will cruise along furniture and explore his surroundings (as long as I'm nearby).  Youngest also says "mama," "dada," "na" for no, and has learned how to sign "more" and "all done."  Today the youngest actually refused food for the first time - a HUGE milestone for him.  Oldest has shared many stories over the past couple weeks.  Not happy stories.  Stories of experiences that even adults shouldn't witness.  It's enough to make your eyes wide - to make you astonished.  But you can't react that way.  You can't for a second make him think that everything he saw and experienced is wrong or bad - because it wasn't his fault.

Such fragile children.  So breakable, yet resilient.

I've gotten a lot of questions lately from numerous people, so I thought I'd lay out the more common ones here.

"How long are they going to be staying with you?"
I'm sure every foster family would love to know the answer upon placement - but truthfully, there are no definite timelines in foster care.  The typical goal is reunification with parent or next of kin.  For now, that is their plan.  The family has (at first) 6 months to follow the "plan" and get things in place.  If they don't make it, they could be given another six months.  My best guess would be that they will probably be with us for at least another six months to a year.

"Where are they when you're at work?"
The youngest along with Micah just go to our in-home daycare.  I bumped up the frequency to four days a week to give the boys more consistency.  The oldest attends pre-k five days a week, then goes to daycare afterwards.  I was SO grateful that the bus route worked out so I didn't have to change my work schedule at all.

Not a question, but a comment: "I don't think I could take care of a baby and then have to give it back.  I just couldn't do it." 
You have to understand something.  Just like you don't become friends with everyone you meet - you probably won't connect with every child you foster.  Also - the child ISN'T YOURS.  Technically, even a child that was born to you isn't yours.  Every child belongs and comes from God.  If you're being called to foster - let down the wall of selfishness that says "I won't be heartbroken" and open your heart to "I will love and care for the fatherless." That's what God commands us to do.

Before we got a placement, I got this one a lot: "So will you stay at home once you get kids in your home?"
Short answer: uh, NO.  Really?  I couldn't stay home with one kid, there's no way I'd stay home with three!  It isn't financially possible or necessary.  Thankfully, my work schedule hasn't changed.  I've had to take several hours off to take care of doctors visits, but other than that it's been smooth sailing.

"So can you request certain genders or ages?" 
Absolutely!  We were open to 0-5, any race, either gender, sibling group of two.  Siblings groups are the HARDEST to place; that's why we were open to them.  Our boys had to spend the night in the CPS office because nobody would take them.

I've told Ray that if we adopt these boys we're going to need a bigger car.  "Why?" he asks.  "Because I need my girl and our car won't fit four kids!"

I will have my girl someday.  I.  Will.

First Week

Oh good gracious readers.
It has been a long but fast week.
I have been stretched, pulled, and pushed in ways I have never experienced before.
This has been one of the most stressful weeks I have ever experienced.
It has taught me a LOT - but also worn me out.

If you consider the idea of fostering - you can basically take every thought, every belief, everything you know about child rearing - and throw it out the window.

Because these kids aren't normal.  They look their age - but they act half of it.  The five year old is essentially on the same level as our three-year-old Micah.  In a five year old body.  Makes for good playmates - but difficult for training.  And he needs SO MUCH training.

People tell me I'm "amazing." People say I'm "awesome."  I don't feel awesome.  I feel tired.  I feel unsure.  I feel discouraged often.  The only thing that keeps me afloat is my God - He never wavers, He never fails.  God called us here.  He tells me that I was made for this.  He tells me that His strength is made perfect in weakness - and I am weak people.

Last Friday I got the baby enrolled in daycare.  He started on Monday while I took the oldest to get enrolled in school.  We went to the WIC office on Monday as well to get formula for the littlest.  Monday night the oldest threw up seven times and couldn't even keep water down.  On Tuesday the baby had similar issues.  Finally by yesterday we were able to start a more "normal" schedule.  I shed a tear when the oldest got on the bus for school, and I waved goodbye.  Took the fosters to the doctor on Wednesday (also a new experience - two children on Medicaid in an office and having to fill our "required paperwork" for each doctor's visit).

For a type-A person like myself, change is not easy.  And I have been through a LOT of change this week.  It has been difficult, but a ministry is never easy.

Tomorrow is a new day....

Neglect's Ugly Face

I've discovered something since Thursday.

I've received so many "congratulations!" and "how exciting!" from so many people.  I understand why; we've worked SO hard for several months to get to this point.  It is exciting - but it's also scary, sad, and unfamiliar.

The only "congratulations" lies in the fact that the children are no longer in a dangerous situation.  They are SAFE and LOVED like they should be.  But truly - the circumstances that brought them here are anything but congratulatory.

These sweet boys.  I often ask God, "why me?"  There are times when I feel SO un-qualified to do this.  In the heat of the moment when the baby just will NOT STOP CRYING, it's easy to feel overwhelmed and under-qualified.

But God called us here.  I prayed fervently that God would send the right children to our home, and I know he did that.  But there are still challenges.

When the oldest starts smashing things and yelling.  When the youngest refuses to be put down for a second.

But the thing about children who have been neglected is there's a REASON behind every action.  If Micah starts yelling, I know he's probably just over-excited and needs to use his "inside voice."  When the oldest started yelling and covering his eyes upon every question, I knew there was something going on.  He didn't communicate to me that he had a headache and the noise was hurting his head.  Sweet boy.  He's probably had the same issue and no one ever listened.  I had to take the time to show him I care.  I'm here to meet his needs.  He will be taken care of here with no exceptions.

Baby probably cries when I put him down because he's terrified I'll leave him and never come back.  His cries aren't cries of fussiness - they are pure fear.  He's not even a year old and I hear fear in his cries.

They look normal.  If you saw them at first glance you wouldn't think of them any differently than a normal kid.  But they aren't normal.  Their history is tattered and full of broken promises.  You can't just earn that trust and build a relationship in a day (or two).  We will be working on "surviving" for the next couple weeks.

But I have hope.  By God's grace I have hope.  Micah and oldest get along super well - just like brothers!!! I have finally started to get a smile from baby's face.  His giggle is contagious.  I loved snuggling with the oldest during a movie tonight.  So many things we often take for granted as parents - but in these kids, they are extra precious and special.

God has lead us here.  We are not alone.  And even though I cried twice today because I thought I couldn't do it - God doesn't call the qualified, He qualifies the called.