My fight with God

It feels like I have been in a fight with God. 

He didn’t come through for me and I was furious. It felt like God had the perfect opportunity to show His amazing glory, and he didn’t.  He would have had an awesome testimony, and I would have had a baby and a uterus, but I don’t have either. He let me down.

The first few weeks I wanted nothing to do with reading my bible or praying or talking about God. It just made me too sad. Too mad really. I wish I could post about now – 2 months later - how I totally understand why He allowed everything so terrible to happen and how I completely trust that He is good and submit to His will over mine, but I am not there yet. I wish I could say I spent hours clinging to promises and singing hymns and praising God for all the blessings, and the fact he saved me from a very dangerous situation. But I didn’t.

Not even close. 

But now I am clawing to get back to that solid ground- slowly and desperately fighting to get there. Through forcing myself to read my bible and allow His voice to speak to me through it, through worship and songs that sing truth, even through just praying my anger toward God, and telling him my hurt and broken heart. Through weekly counseling, singing Jesus loves me to the boys (and me) 23 times a day, and through forcing myself to fellowship with people who can encourage me I feel I am healing my relationship with God. I am learning that sometimes things just don’t make sense and I may never understand this side of heaven. That even though things suck, He is still good.

I catch glimpses of how He is working in my life. Mark brings me flowers home from grocery shopping and it reminds me of how God has given me him, a best friend, during all this has served me and loved me so well. That my once painful stomach and leg, can now have a little boy touch it without horrible pain – He must be healing me.  That He allowed us to have one precious boy come from our bodies, and that we have had a funny, sweet 3 year old in our home every day, is pure grace. He did not need to give us even one child, and we have two. I can see things like McDonalds now serving diet Dr. Pepper and 59 cent cones as goodness from Him, that when paperwork goes easy or a doctor returns a call as help from God. Those small things are turning me back to my first love.

I still have hurt, and I still don’t understand, but I hope that this can be an encouragement to the hurting. Press in to Jesus. Keep faith and keep moving towards Him even when you’re mad and sad, he can handle it and loves you endlessly. 

- Brittany

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

Our first day with our first foster kiddo

So we got the call about little D needing a home on Wednesday, made the decision that night, and he got dropped off on Friday morning. Thursday night I figured I better get some groceries, I hear kids like to eat. So I spent over an hour wandering around Meijer, looking at food thinking “I have no idea what this kid will like?”, “what do two year olds even eat?” It was so strange, knowing that a boy was coming to live with us and knowing nothing about him. 

Mark and I were so nervous waiting for D and the social worker, we sat staring out the window thinking how everything was about to change. Well they pull up and he is in a pink car seat, fairly dirty and reeks of smoke – but is literally the cutest thing I have ever seen.  He has a full head of curly black hair, and the deepest brown eyes ever, and the sweetest toothy smile.  He has a laundry basket full of belongings and clothes that were dirty and smelly, and a sippy cup with rotten milk. He came right to us and let us carry him inside. He sat and colored while we signed the papers, saying that we were responsible for him.  Our social worker did not know much about him at all, no ideal any medical conditions, allergies, who is doctor was, even how to spell his name.

He then introduced us to his fits, when he was asked to not color on the table, complete with arching the back, banging his feet on the floor, etc. Oh yeah, and he does not talk, so that almost makes things difficult with understanding what is wrong. We were told that he did not know any words. The social worker then left, and we were alone with him. It was honestly so weird. We played with him for a while at the table, and fed him lunch.  I started going through his clothes, many which were sizes too big or small, and summer outfits, all which desperately needed washing.

Then about at 3 o’oclock I thought “what are we going to do with him on Monday?”, you know when we are both are at work? We talked to the social worker, and she suggested the CDC, and after some research the closest placeis Borgess, which would work out fairly well. I called them and talked to the director, who asked us to come in and discuss options. We got a few days covered for the next week,  which would really help us. We filled out his paper work the best we could, and she was very understanding and compassionate to our situation.

Both my sisters happen to be coming home for the weekend, so they got to quickly meet him. It was great, and he loved them, but I can see what all the books and blogs about traumatized kids and attachment problems say about keeping the kids worlds small. Each time someone would leave he would have a huuuge meltdown.

We figured bedtime would be difficult, as we did not know what his previous sleeping situation had been, did he use a crib, have lights on or off, what time, bottle? We were clueless. We knew we had to get him into a good sleeping routine as quickly as possible – with a newborn coming and all. He finally went to sleep – but it took hours. HOURS. But I mean, the poor kid didn’t know us at all, have a clue where he was, we were probably doing his bedtime all wrong . We eventually got the precious little guy to bed.

And that was our first day with little D.

 We were totally in love, excited and nervous for this adventure, and went to bed knowing that God had shown up, and would continue to everyday with new mercies each morning. 

This is the verse that has been the verse we have clung to with D

Love,
Brittany

Giddy takes on UofM

(This was suppose to post last night, but apparently did not - we went to UofM today for some appointments - will update later about that!)

Well we got to U of M Thursday early evening and from the moment we pulled in to Motts Children hospital we were impressed. And mind you, all this is from two people who despise the University of Michigan, so we are not easily impressed. But, this was impressive! They had complementary valet parking, which was so awesome with a baby and all our bags. We got in, they triaged us within a minute, we did not even go to a waiting room or anything, and were in an ER room in 10 minutes. While we were getting triaged they had Giddy’s diaper off (which anyone with boys is cringing) and of course he peed all over the room. How does such a little thing shoot pee so far? Who knows. 

We got into an ER room, and quickly (like within 10 minutes) saw the attending ER doc. He came and evaluated Giddy, and then consulted ENT and plastic surgery. Both of these specialists sent people who came and evaluated him within a couple hours. They all took pictures and videos of him breathing and went to discuss a plan. The plastics resident came back and cleaned out quite a bit of debris from his nose and it really improved his breathing (pulse ox went from low 90s to high 90s), and he seemed much more relaxed. We then found out they were going to admit us for at least one night and day.

Our room was on the 11^th floor and was absolutely amazing. It was very impressive. Mark and I joked that it was much nicer than any hotel we would stay at. We got a tour of the floor and got admitted by the pediatrician. They were so nice to get me a hospital bed and Giddy a basinet, so that I would not have to sleep on a pull out – which was amazing having just had a c-section a week ago. It made a HUGE difference.

The steady stream of doctors started early the next morning. Really early. The highlights (and main doctors that will be following him) were visits by the ENT and plastic surgeon and their teams. The plastic surgeon attending who will be following him was amazing. He was so personable, understanding, and seems to have a really wonderful reputation for being one of the best. He spent quite a bit of time with us, took more pictures of his nose with a nicer camera, and explained the plan. So far, the plan from their perspective is to wait patiently. He explained he has to restrain himself from taking him to surgery to get some of the necrotic tissue off, because in someone this young, he will end up taking off tissue that looks bad, but still might rebound. He said we will wait to see how his body handles the dead tissue, and will hopefully get rid of it after a few weeks (like a scab). We also discussed putting stents in his nostrils to keep them open to help breathing, which he debates doing, but again wants to hold off to not traumatize tissue any further.  He said that he would “know this kid his whole childhood” and would likely need to have surgeries down the line for cosmetic purposes and possibly for function (his nose might not grow well). He was very reassuring that he could handle this case and made us feel much better.  Our goals from him were to keep the nose from getting infected, keep breathing, and keep patiently waiting.

ENT sent several people in, and ended up doing a scope, where they looked inside his nose up past the part you can see with your naked eye to evaluate the health of the airway. They were hopeful that there was some good tissue up there. They also planned to come back with more tools and people and be a bit more aggressive in the debridement of his nostrils – aka getting rid of the dead tissue. It was so traumatic to watch, they had suction and many instruments and people watching, and bleeding and lots of screaming from Gideon. It was heart wrenching. But it really did open things up, so hopefully we could limp along through the weekend until we saw them again in a couple days to do it again – ugh.

The attending pediatrician also came in and said that he had spent all morning researching and could not find anything like this in the journals and medical literature, and asked us to sign some papers to publish it. We were okay with that, actually the PA in me loved the idea of by boy getting published, but the mom in me was a bit nervous and freaked out that they have never seen anything like this. They said they see traumatic births all the time, and know in theory that the skin can get necrotic from pressure from birth, but have never actually seen it. So we signed the papers, they took MORE pictures and hopefully we can provide some help for other families somewhere out there.

Jenna and Jake (my sister and her boyfriend) came by after work and got to see Giddy and spend time with us, and eat dinner at the hospital, which was so much fun!  Then we had a little photoshoot in the amazing lobby – which is where the pictures below came from. We then headed home, and over the whole two hour trip home he did not make a peep – praise Jesus! 

We are so thankful for a medical institution so close (relatively) and doctors who care and are at the top of their fields taking care of our boy. We feel so cared for and loved by our friends and family, which has made this difficult situation much easier. We also have a good God that gives a peace that surpasses understanding, which we have a whole new understanding of. 

A couple of the ENTs doing the first scope on his little nose - so hard to watch!

With all this UofM bragging I am doing, you may need to be reminded where our true allegiance is

Giddy's door they decorated at Motts, and some cute pictures just hanging out in his adorable hospital gown.

Family photo in our MSU gear in front of the beautiful Christmas tree. 

My awesome sister Nenna and itty bitty Giddy

Love, 

Brittany

Gideon update – part 1

I’m going to take a quick break from the timeline of our life on this blog and give a quick update on our sweet little Giddy.

Gideon Uriah was born on Thanksgiving with the most adorable little face, but unfortunately there was a lot of bruising and swelling.  I had been induced on Monday evening, and did not deliver until a C-section on Thursday morning, after no progression of labor and some distress in him. Talk about a long and stressful few days! The doctors thought that the damage to his face was from how he was positioned against my cervix and that it would heal in a few days. Lots of it did improve, swelling and redness went down. Then his nose appeared to have a scab on it, which we thought would just fall off. The pediatricians in the hospital were great, and we put antibiotic ointment on it and continued to watch it. We were discharged Sunday.

Tuesday we went to the pediatrician, and the “scab” was found to be necrotic (dead) tissue, and was beginning to block his little nostril from breathing (side note that is very important – babies don’t breathe out of their mouths, so it is very important that their nose functions well). The pediatrician called an ENT (ear nose throat doctor), and decided we need to see him the next morning, as well as a plastic surgeon. Gideon really was itty bitty Giddy now, as he had lost some weight (due to difficulties nursing with the nose), and was now in the 2% for weight, and 6% for height. So we were on the very exhausting plan of nursing every two hours around the clock. 

Wednesday we went to the ENT bright and early, and he looked at his nose for a couple seconds and quickly said we have to go to UofM to see their pediatric plastic surgery department, and ENT. He said he would call personally and get an appointment as soon as possible – which was Tuesday of the next week.

Thursday we had to go back to the pediatrician for a weight check and nose check. The necrotic tissue was getting worse, and more skin seemed to be dying. She watched him breathe and saw how much he was struggling, and said she was going to call UofM to see what they think we should do. They told us to come to Motts Children’s Hospital ER. They said they could evaluate us and do some temporary treatment for his nose, or admit us to the hospital if that was needed. So we went home, packed some bags, made plans for my awesome Mom to pick up D from daycare and took off on a 2 hour drive to the ER to get our baby some help.

It seemed like every time we went to a doctor’s appointment the news got worse for little Gideon, and the poor little guy was one week old!  We went to UofM and did end up getting admitted, but after seeing about 80 doctors there, we feel very hopeful. I will post more about our trip there next.

Here is the progression of his little nose over the first week. 

So his nose is a little banged up, but can we not agree that he is the most precious, beautiful little guy you have ever seen?

Love,
Brittany

God will show up

Here we go again!

I want to start blogging again – so here goes nothing. Here are the few reasons I am re-starting:

1.       It’s easy to keep people who want to be updated in the loop with the comings and goings and craziness of our lives.

2.       Life is a whirlwind and sometimes hard to see how God is moving, but looking back on blogs is such a testimony to God’s goodness in our lives.

3.       I love reading Mark’s posts, they legitimately crack me up.

4.       I love reading other peoples blogs.

5.       Hopefully it can be a little encouragement to people at times – if for nothing else to look at our life and think “well at least our life is not that crazy!”

So where to start? Let’s start three weeks ago today, with a phone call. We got a call from our social worker about a little boy who needed some placement for foster care, and possible adoption.  We had been interested in adopting for years, and more recently fostering. We got our home study done this fall, and had gotten several calls about fostering and adoption situations that we turned down after prayer and thought. We had gotten licensed for age 4 and under, but really wanted small children (like 2 and under).  

Anyway, we got a call about a boy who came up and was in emergency placement and really needed help. They said that he just turned two, the reason for his removal from the home, and that they needed to know by the end of the day (actually they asked to know by lunch, but that was a little quick -even for us). So after getting this call at work between patients, I called Mark at his work and gave him the scoop. We didn’t know a name, didn’t have a picture, didn’t know the situation, didn’t know what he was like, didn’t know what challenges he might be facing, didn’t know anything really.  We both prayed about it all day, Mark came to my work in the afternoon, after I was done with patients and we sat in my office and begged God for wisdom through prayer. For some reason this situation felt more right than any others. Ideally we would pray, fast, talk to friends and mentors, families to make a decision like this, but there was really no time. We felt a peace that surpassed understanding. We were also scared.

We called the social worked and said yes.  She told us his name, and said they would drop him off Thursday night or Friday morning after some paperwork got finished up. She had no idea what he owned, what we needed, or what this child was like. And then we went to birthing class.

Oh yeah, we were 37 weeks pregnant at the time. And just accepted our first foster kid. And he is two years old.

“What were you guys thinking?” you may ask. What we were thinking is this… that God would show up. That God loves children, and orphans, and us, and that he would not leave us or abandon us during this step of faith. We believed that God would show up with grace forthe situation, and wisdom in how to handle this precious little boy, and sleep and rest for us, and patience for this traumatized two year old and ultimately that He will be there for us, that we just need to trust Him.  

So that is how we got our sweet little D. We absolutely adore him, and are so glad he gets to be a part of our family for how ever short or long that God has him here. And believe me, God has shown up. 

Here are his sweet hands. We cannot show his face or tell much about his story at this time,
but trust us - he is awesome.

Love, 

Brittany

Breaking Bad Habits

Hi, remember me?

It's been awhile and a lot has happened (moving, both Mark and I starting new jobs, graduating, vacation, etc.)...and we will blog about that later. For now, I will tell you about our bad habit that we are working on breaking, and I though posting it would be a good way to have accountability (from allllllll of our blog readers ;)).

So when I lived in Detroit by myself for school during the week, I would turn on the tv the moment I walked in the door and leave it on until after I fell asleep. We only got like three channels, so there was never anything good on, but I just liked having the noise (to cover the nosies of other people that would scare me). Since I have moved back home with my husband, we have gotten into this habit also. We always have the tv on, and to fall asleep each night we turn it on. We would read during the day, and chat and things, but then at night we would just watch tv. The other day we were moving my lovely sister into her apartment and she asked if she could buy our big, huge tv that his grandpa handed down to us when he moved. Now, mind you Mark has not been in the same city as this tv in two years, but did not want to sell it. He wanted us to have a nice tv. Which obviously is fine (and for the rest of this blog I'll be talking about personal conviction for us). But, we have specific goals that we are striving for (mostly to be Christ like to glorify God), and laying in bed every night rotting our brains with our tv was not doing that. When I think about telling our kids about our lives and being accountable to God for our time, I just don't think they will be impressed with a recap of the Bachlorette and Say Yes to the Dress.  We have financial goals which were benefited by selling the tv, and we were determined to break the tv habit - so it made perfect sense. And --  did I mention the tv is like 9847 pounds? and its really hard to move, so getting it off our hands was a plus.

On vacation we did not have a tv, so that kick started our no tv. Last night we read, and chatted and then turned off the lights and it was hard. I am not going to lie. I layed there and listened to Mark softly sleep and wanted to turn the tv on soooo bad. So now, we are officially tv-at-night free. Please ask us how this is going, and fill us in on anything exciting that happens on television.

Oh yeah, I am not giving up the Bachlorette...yet.

Love,
Brittany