When words fail

Fact: It’s hard to explain the world to a three year old.  Anyone who has been around a young child for any length of time knows the dreaded question that always seems to come at the most inopportune time: “why?”

Why do I have to eat my vegetables?

Why can’t I touch my poop?

Why can’t I run around here?

Why do I have to wear a coat?

Why don’t I live with my mom?

Parenting is often messy, hard work.  Actually, it pretty much always is.  And that is when everything is “the way it should be.”  The way that God intended our families to work.  Two parent household.  Healthy Marriage.  Healthy balance of work and home life.  Family that rallies around you.  A church that rallies around you.  Christ is the center of the home.

But what about when it isn’t the way it should be?

Divorce happens.  Selfishness happens.  Things constantly draw us away from our priorities.  We don’t let the church help.  We don’t let God help.

Here is the story of our morning:

It’s Thursday, that means everyone gets up early, even though the night was cut short by school assignments and even worse- a normally sleepless child who is sick- aka: sleeps even less.  But the funny thing about employment is that you still have a start time that unwavers.  Brittany needs to be in Portage, Mark needs to be at the middle school, D needs to be to daycare in Kalamazoo, and Giddy needs to be with Grammy. 

So we start our early morning shuffle.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  Until D wakes up.  From the moment he opens his eyes in the morning, to the moment he shuts them at night, everything is a mountain to die on.  I’m not talking about normal three year old, everything is a battle, type things.  I’m talking about all out, no holds barred, tantrums because I don’t want to wear a sweatshirt, type things.  I’m going to lay here screaming, you can’t make me move type things.  I wanted to walk down the stairs by myself, even though I was laying on the floor screaming and crying, saying I’m not going anywhere type things.  Shoes.  Coat.  Animal crackers.  Chocolate milk.  Hold me.  Put me down.  Tantrums.

Going to be late for work.  Deep breath.  Deep breath. Deep breath.  Pray for patience.

Finally, the clouds are beginning to break, the storm is quieting down.  Now, the talk.  In a calm voice.  Hey Buddy, what going on?  You know we don’t act like this in our home.  Where’s our happy little D?  “Grunt, sniffle.”  Extra big pout.  You know that Brittany and I love you lots and lots and lots, and nothing will ever change that, and we want to keep you safe and protect you, but we can’t do that if we don’t know what’s going on.  What’s going on little Buddy?  Sobbing resumes, tears beginning to flow again, D cries out,

“I miss my mommy!”

All words vanish.

What do you say?  Do you share the unfiltered truth about why he lives with Mark and Brittany and not mom and dad?  Do you attempt to explain the complexities of the foster system, and all the legal processes and protocols?  Do you make up a story that shields him from the truth? 

Or do you just say “I know.” 

That’s what I did.  And wrapped that boy in the tightest hug I could muster.  “D, look at my eyes.  I know.  I’m sorry.  I know.  Do you know what else I know?  I love you more than anything.  Brittany loves you more than anything.  We would move mountains for you.  We will protect you as best we can.  We love you lots and lots and lots.”

Sadly, this is our daily routine.  Doing our best to unconditionally love a sweet, confused little boy, who is trying to figure out a world that he should never have to figure out.  We don’t know what the future has in store for D.  We jealously hope it’s with us.  The one thing we do know: it’s in God’s hands.  We have no control over the foster system, the courts, or his parents.  The only thing we have control over is that we will continue to weather this storm, as long as God will have us in it.  We will trust God, and cling to the mercies that he gives us.

Why? 

Because we serve a God that can calm the storm with just his voice.

He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.  He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”  They were terrified and asked each other, “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!”

Mark 4:39-41

Grace and Peace-

-Mark

Ruined Expectations of Motherhood

My Gideon, 
I was so wrong in my expectations of being your mom. This week while sorting a box from childhood I found a form I filled out for the fifth  grade time capsule where I had written in my fanciest fifth grader cursive that my career goal was “to be a mom”. I have always wanted this. I have spent my whole life loving kids, babysitting, adoring my little sisters and literally could not wait to have my own precious child, through birth or adoption. I could not wait for you sweet boy. But now I find myself laughing thinking how wrong I was about everything.

First let me clarify the greatest misconception that I had-  I never realized that I could love something so much. Especially something that interferes with my sleep in such a profound way. Each day I fall more and more in love with you, and yet feel like each day I could never love you any more than I already do. I literally love you with every cell in my being sweet boy.

I laugh when I think of my labor with you. I wanted a home birth, but settled on a hospital birth that was as natural as possible. I read a book about having a home birth in the hospital, and I imagined laboring in the tub, toughing it through without medications and being a hero, Mark rubbing my back, quickly pushing out a perfect baby, breastfeeding perfectly, and leaving the hospital within 24 hours - and of course, NEVER having a c-section. Oh but you had different plans. I was induced, pumped full of medication, begged for an epidural, had a c-section, and you came out like you had been in battle, beat up and terribly bruised, we struggled with breastfeeding, and were in the hospital for six days.

Then I think of our nights, and I laugh. I read Babywise, and Happiest Baby on the Block, and lots of blogs about this too. I imagined you sleeping for long chunks at night, only to be interrupted by “dreamfeeding”, where I nurse you without waking you and then nicely lay you back down and we both fall back asleep. I pictured you in our room for a couple weeks, and then moving your crib in the nursery. Oh sweet boy, this is not how we spend our nights. I am not even sure you know what a "night" is. Last night we were up every 45 minutes, suctioning out your tiny nose, nursing, changing diapers (kicking myself for doing cloth diapers at time), trying to massage gas out of your tummy, tripping over the mess in our room, moving you between the swing, rock and play, and our bed – figuring something has to work, crying (both of us), all while trying to not wake up Dad or 2 year old D (our foster kiddo). We have watched three seasons of Hoarders at nights (you know so I could feel like my house isn’t so messy), I have eaten through our candy stash, and neither of us really seem to sleep. That’s how nights really are.

Next I think of maternity leave. I imagined us snuggling,  getting ahead on freezer meals for when I go back to work, unpacking our basement from the recent move, running errands, visiting Dad at work, visiting friends, going on walks, reading the dozens of books I have waiting on my kindle, exercising. HA. We do our fair share of snuggling, but I find myself doing laundry every day (we used to do once a week!), tending to your nose and medication schedule, going to doctor appointments, trying to get dishes done (just enough so we have dishes for the next meal), dealing with insurance messes, stuffing my face when I get a few seconds of peace, and dealing with Foster Care stuff for little D. We are quarantined in the house due to your suppressed immune system and the high risk of getting you sick. We have been admitted in Ann Arbor twice. We can’t even go on walks because it’s like single digits cold. The basement looks like a bomb went off – well actually that’s how the whole house looks, there are zero meals in the freezer,  I have read maybe a half of book, you have two surgeries scheduled, and I cannot even remember what exercising is. But I would not change anything to be with you day in and day out, watching your every move. 

Then I think of the schedule I had written down for you. It looked something like this: nurse, play, nap for a few hours while I get things done, and repeat. What our schedule actually looks like is me trying to get you to sleep anyway I can - all day long. And when you get to sleep, I just sit there and watch you – afraid you will get something in your nose and not be able to take a breath, and I don’t get anything done. Sometimes I doze in and out with you on my chest or snuggled next to you in bed.  I never imagined having to try and get you to take steroids and antibiotics, rinsing out your nose several times a day, and shoving your little hernia back in, so those things did not make it onto the schedule. Giddy, you totally missed the memo on sleeping for longer than an hour, and you want to leisurely eat every two hours. So needless to say the schedule is a laughing matter in our house.

Although everything has not gone remotely close to how I imagined, it is so much harder, but so much more awesome than I could have dreamed. I am cherishing this time with you precious boy, loving you more and more each day.

Now as I think of all this when I find myself crying in the middle of the night in frustration and fatigue, I can’t really help but cling to Jesus who provides hope, rest, and peace, remind myself that this is just a season, and laugh.

Love, 

Your head-over-heels in love and exhausted Momma

Sweet snuggle time

Here is the sweet ruin-er of all my expectations

He is jealous for us…

- post from Mark -
(one scripture where God describes himself as a "jealous God" is 2 Corinthians 11:2 " I am jealous for you with a Godly jealousy")

Since we began fostering D, one of my greatest joys is bedtime.  

I’ll tell you why: From the moment D came into our lives, we were in love.  But the more time that D spends in our family, the deeper we fall in love. 

But I feel like I’ve built a special bond with D because of the one on one time that we share during bedtime. What started as an epic battle of the wills, has turned into a nice routine and time that I cherish (though tears still happen). We say goodnight to everyone and give kisses to Brittany and baby Giddy. As I change his diaper and put on his pjs, we joke and tickle each other. He loves to tickle people and make them laugh (or pretend to laugh).  We then turn on D’s turtle that softly illuminates the room and casts stars on the ceiling, to which he points up and  exclaims, “ooooooh, dars!” Then we walk over and he turns off the lights. 

And then comes my favorite part.  D will say, “sit, sit , sit!”  So we sit and cuddle in the nice recliner in his room.  He wraps his arms around my neck and rests his head on my shoulders.  I just hold him and pray for him while he chatters some and then finally quiets down. 

It’s in that moment I get a glimpse of how God sees us.  As I hold and pray for this sweet, precious little boy, my heart melts.  I often choke up.  My biggest desire, the thing that I want the most is to call this sweet boy mine.  I want to call D my son. I do not want other things to tug at his heart and pull him away from our family. I want to protect him and keep him safe and love him forever. 

I am jealous for him.

This is how God views us.  He wants a relationship with us and wants to call us his children.  He hates when we give our hearts to other things, and other things tug our heart away from Him. He weeps when we are far from him and his heart breaks when he can’t call us His.  He is jealous for us. 

More than anything I want to call D mine.  More than anything God wants to us to be His.  Remember that the next time you think that God is not fair, or that God is mean, or that God just has rules for us to follow.  God is far bigger than all that. He is a perfect father and loves us with a father's heart.

He is jealous for us.

Love, 

Mark

Giddy's nose update!

We took Giddy to UofM for his latest appointments with ENT and plastic surgery yesterday – so here is a quick update!

Well we had to be out the door at 5:30 am, so you can imagine how smoothly that went. No one wanted to wake up and cooperate – including us. We made it to our 8:15 appointment on time, and we saw ENT first. They did a scope up the right nostril (the good side) of his nose, because of how labored his breathing has been lately. Which during these scopes, we hold him and he screams bloody murder and it is pretty traumatic for all of us. The scope revealed that his right nostril is much too small. This is the nostril that we thought was normal, so it was very disappointing to hear. The doctor explained that he should be able to get the scope up much farther even in a newborn the first day it is born, but he can hardly even get in Giddy’s nose. This is obviously causing his labored breathing, as his left nostril is completely shut. They are not sure why the right side is like this, but they want to avoid doing surgery until he is bigger and stronger – possibly this spring. They gave us steroids to put in his nose twice daily along with the saline rinses we are already doing to hopefully help keep that right nostril clear. He emphasized again the need to keep him healthy and keeping it at home through this winter so he does not get exposed to any unnecessary germs – as a cold would be devastating to him.

We then headed to see the plastic surgeon. He picked at the scab on the left nostril and discussed what we are going to do. He is worried that the left nostril will heal together (so there will not be any opening). It is closed most of the time now, but it is able to open. The left nostril is small, due to scar tissue and we are not sure how it will grow, but the main concern – especially in light of the right nostril being fairly ineffective – is to keep it open. So he is planning on putting a stent in the left nostril – possibly at our next appointment in 3 weeks. They are waiting until the last of the scabbing falls off, which will take a couple more weeks.

So we will head back in three weeks and get the stent and see both doctors again. Hopefully the steroids will help, as there are times when his breathing gets very labored and it is extremely scary for us. We do saline rinses and I pick out debris with forceps many times daily – lovely. 

Thanks for praying for us, and please understand why we are a bit psycho and overprotective about germs with baby Giddy. I never wanted to be one of those crazy parents that hand out hand sanitizer and don’t bring their kids anywhere – but I am! Also, please pray that little D doesn’t give any of his many two year old germs to Gideon. Oh - and great news! Giddy is now 8lbs 13oz! This is wonderful news!!

Snoozing on Dad's lap waiting for the next doctor - isn't he looking huge!?

Love, 

Brittany