I am physically small and weak. I’ve never been able to do a real push-up, and after birthing 3 babies, I can no longer do a sit-up. I’m no longer “climbing” the career ladder. I had to choose between spending more time with my family or advancing my career. I chose my family, even though I still miss a lot of class parties, field trips, medical appointments, and other events while I am at work.
By worldly standards I am clearly not strong or powerful, but when it comes to my children, don’t underestimate my persistence and determination. I can function for days (or years now) on interrupted limited sleep. I can juggle a to-do list so extensive I can’t even remember it all in my head anymore. I can power through a 10k with my cross country kiddos with limited preparation. God has been equipping me in different ways to be the mother of the 5 children He has entrusted to me.
Our experiences adopting have brought out the Mama Bear in me. Vulnerable children seem to struggle disproportionally more than other children. Adoption is spiritual warfare. Ask any family involved in foster care or adoption, and they will tell you they have experienced spiritual attacks like they’ve never seen before. In her book I Call You Mine: Embracing God’s Gift if Adoption, Kim de Blecourt says, “One type of love I never experienced, however, until I became an adoptive parent was fierce love.” In her description of God’s love for us she notes, “His love for us...is so fierce He would do anything, go anywhere, fight anyone, and give up anything — including His only Son.”
Take our youngest child, Simon, for example. God must have epic plans for him based on his life so far. It took us 4 years of waiting and 3 home studies (foster, international, and domestic) to bring home the child God intended to be our son. Like every adopted child, Simon experienced trauma in the loss of his first family and their culture, though we are doing what we can to maintain ties with both.
We had complications legally with his adoption, to the point that we literally sent a letter to every state congressperson in Alabama pleading for help. We had attorneys in 3 states working through the mess, which had nothing to do with his birth mother’s consent for the adoption as she went above and beyond to help us. Minutes before Simon’s adoption finalization, which we had travelled out of state to complete, we were informed that the judge may not allow it due to another crazy legal glitch.
During this stressful time, we were also trying to secure the necessary medical interventions for Simon’s hearing loss. We were not expecting to discover that not only were the needed specialists all out of town, but our private insurance did not cover the majority of the expenses. The following year, we started the fight with early intervention to get him “appropriate” speech services. Again we pleaded for help by sending a letter, this time all the way up the state early intervention chain-of-command. A year later I was at the state capitol speaking on behalf of the dismal state of early intervention services for children who are deaf/hard of hearing in Alabama. During this time Simon was chronically ill with ear infections and had 2 sets of tubes and his adenoids removed within a 1 year period of time.
Even though Simon had greater delays due to not receiving the speech services he needed as an infant/toddler, he is finally making great gains! At the beginning of this year when Simon was not quite 3 years old, he was almost 2 years delayed in expressive/receptive speech. He has almost caught up to his peers in receptive speech (what he understands others say), and we have seen good progress in his expressive language skills (others understanding what he says). He attends speech therapy 3 times a week, with one of his visits involving a 75 minute drive each way. He has audiology visits several times a year to recheck his hearing and monitor his hearing aid function. Now he needs occupational therapy, and yet again, we have run into road blocks with how to get the therapy he needs covered (private pay) and how to fit another therapy appointment into our little guy’s week. I am becoming an expert at IEP law, and let me tell you, it feels like I am earning another college degree.
God has given me a peace about Simon’s struggles. I have never feared that Simon’s future would ultimately be limited by his hearing loss or resulting speech problems. But every once in a while I feel sad for him. He got stuck in a piece of playground equipment one day at preschool and couldn’t communicate to his teacher why he wouldn’t come when she called. There was an incident with another child in his class, but Simon couldn’t tell his teacher why he was upset or if he was hurt. When Simon’s hearing aid batteries die, his ear molds act more like an ear plug, blocking the residual sound Simon can hear, but he is not able yet to communicate that his aids aren’t working. His unintelligible speech is a picture of what he heard for the first couple years of his life when we could not clear the fluid from his ears.
There are signs of hope, though. Simon loves to sing and count and say his ABCs. He can spell his name. He is starting to express his needs and wants verbally. Just today Simon was in the Chick-Fil-A indoor play area. I was watching him through the window when I realized one of his hearing aids was flipped off his ear. I didn't make it out there before he approached another mom and indicated he wanted her to reposition his hearing aid for him. I laughed at the time at his boldness, but later realized he was learning to advocate for his needs.
I pray that Simon never loses his outgoing personality or self-confidence. I pray he is not bullied because he is different. I pray he is never ashamed because of the way God made him. I pray I can be the mother he needs. I pray to have the fierce love for my children that God has shown towards me.
Tuesday, December 18, 2018
Saturday, August 11, 2018
Breath of God
Colossians 3:16 Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through songs, hymns, and songs from the Spirit...
Brandon and Lauren are attending Discovery Weekend with the youth at church this weekend. Brandon was asked to give the "Jesus" talk Saturday morning, which included his testimony. Brandon doesn't particularly like getting up in front of people. As his mother I can see how nervous he gets when he is on stage. But when he was asked to give this talk, Brandon didn't seem to hesitate to agree. Watching him today, I am so proud of the young man he is becoming. I can see the way his faith has changed him over the past few years. He studies his Bible with intention. If there is a church activity for youth, he is there. When he is asked to help with something, he does without complaint (most of the time!).
Brandon doesn't say a whole lot so when he does talk about something, you know it excites him. Sometimes he talks about the latest video game he is playing, and I am lost pretty quickly. When he talked for weeks about Stephen Meyer's book Signature in the Cell: DNA and the Evidence for Intelligent Design (not light reading, mind you), I knew he was intrigued with the complexities of the human body and how they pointed to our Maker.
I was remembering recently a song Brandon used to listen to over and over as a toddler. When he was 18 months old, we finally got him sleeping in his own bed. I think his imagination would get the best of him as he was lying there trying to fall asleep. We found that putting on some music kept him from thinking about the strange noises he thought he was hearing. Brandon quickly developed a fondness for the song "Breath of God" by Shane Barnard and Shane Everett. Despite having a CD of the entire album, Brandon only wanted to hear THAT song. Brad would set the song to play up to 20 times on repeat, and if Brandon was still awake when it ended, we would have to reset it again. Every night for at least 2 years, Brandon listened to "Breath of God." I don't think it would be exaggerating to estimate he has heard that song 10,000 times!
A few weeks ago I listened to Brandon’s song and reflected on the lyrics. It made me think about all God has done in his life and how his walk with the Lord has inspired me to be a better Christian.
I’ve linked the song (with lyrics) below:
Brandon and Lauren are attending Discovery Weekend with the youth at church this weekend. Brandon was asked to give the "Jesus" talk Saturday morning, which included his testimony. Brandon doesn't particularly like getting up in front of people. As his mother I can see how nervous he gets when he is on stage. But when he was asked to give this talk, Brandon didn't seem to hesitate to agree. Watching him today, I am so proud of the young man he is becoming. I can see the way his faith has changed him over the past few years. He studies his Bible with intention. If there is a church activity for youth, he is there. When he is asked to help with something, he does without complaint (most of the time!).
Brandon doesn't say a whole lot so when he does talk about something, you know it excites him. Sometimes he talks about the latest video game he is playing, and I am lost pretty quickly. When he talked for weeks about Stephen Meyer's book Signature in the Cell: DNA and the Evidence for Intelligent Design (not light reading, mind you), I knew he was intrigued with the complexities of the human body and how they pointed to our Maker.
I was remembering recently a song Brandon used to listen to over and over as a toddler. When he was 18 months old, we finally got him sleeping in his own bed. I think his imagination would get the best of him as he was lying there trying to fall asleep. We found that putting on some music kept him from thinking about the strange noises he thought he was hearing. Brandon quickly developed a fondness for the song "Breath of God" by Shane Barnard and Shane Everett. Despite having a CD of the entire album, Brandon only wanted to hear THAT song. Brad would set the song to play up to 20 times on repeat, and if Brandon was still awake when it ended, we would have to reset it again. Every night for at least 2 years, Brandon listened to "Breath of God." I don't think it would be exaggerating to estimate he has heard that song 10,000 times!
A few weeks ago I listened to Brandon’s song and reflected on the lyrics. It made me think about all God has done in his life and how his walk with the Lord has inspired me to be a better Christian.
I’ve linked the song (with lyrics) below:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=aa3yHMheZBU
2 Timothy 3:14 ...continue in what you have learned and become convinced of, because you know those from whom you have learned it, and how from infancy you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Jesus Christ...
2 Timothy 3:14 ...continue in what you have learned and become convinced of, because you know those from whom you have learned it, and how from infancy you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Jesus Christ...
Friday, June 1, 2018
Annie
In 2011 when Brad and I mutually felt called to adopt, the idea of adding a fourth child was so new and scary that the plan was to adopt 1 child. As we became more open to God’s will for our family, we decided to be open to adopting 2 children. Every step along the way (foster, international from Ethiopia, and domestic) we had a homestudy approving us for 2 children. The journey that lead us to Simon was so difficult, long, heartbreaking, and costly that in the weeks leading up to the finalization of his adoption, I just wanted to be DONE.
Many times during our wait I questioned why we’d been called to adopt in 2011 when our son wasn’t born until 2015. Within a few months of Simon’s adoption finalization in September 2015, however, I started thinking of that second child we were always open to adopting. We started praying for discernment about adopting again. I joined some Facebook groups advocating for waiting children, both domestically and internationally. Brad had expressed a preference to adopt a girl aged 3-5 who would fit in the 5 year gap between our youngest 2 children.
In July 2016 I found a 4 year old Chinese girl called “Leilani” on an adoption agency advocacy page. Interestingly enough the name “Leilani” is Hawaiian (where our youngest son was born). Brad and I decided to request additional information about her. There wasn’t much in her file, but we were definitely interested so we requested the agency “hold” her file while we had it reviewed by the International Adoption Clinic. Once we spoke with the doctor, we decided to proceed with pursuing her adoption. Within 2 weeks we had pre-approval from China and officially started the process. Compared to Simon’s adoption process, Annie’s was a whirlwind. We started paperwork in August 2016 and by the end of April 2017, we had travel approval. On her 5th birthday, we boarded a plane to China to bring our daughter home.
At some point in the process, I realized that the little girl who was to become our daughter was conceived around the time we actively started pursuing adoption in 2011. We never considered adopting from China during our first adoption. Her finding ad, the Chinese government’s attempt to locate her birth family, was published on my birthday in 2015, just over a month before we would meet Simon. There is evidence in some of our documents that her file began being prepared for adoption in November 2015 and was completed right around the time we started actively searching for the little girl to complete our family. While I will never understand why she spent the first 5 years of her life without a family, I can see God’s hand in the way she joined ours.
In coming up with a name, we had to remember that this little girl already had a name— Yi Shan (pronounced EEE-Shawn). We had heard that many Chinese children want an American name when they are adopted. We learned that orphaned children are often named by the orphanage director and that the names often are chosen more as a way of inventorying the children who come into their care. That being said, we didn’t want to disregard her past altogether. The name we had previously chosen for a girl didn’t seem to match the fiery girl we saw in videos and photographs. We finally settled on Annie Charis Yishan. Annie is a short spunky name, and is a derivative of Anna, which means “grace.” Charis (pronounced CARE-ess) was the middle name we already loved. I “found” it several years prior in a book I read, called Charis: God’s Scandalous Grace for Us by Preston Sprinkle. Charis is the Greek word for grace, so our newest daughter’s name means “ grace grace.” Here is her verse:
Many times during our wait I questioned why we’d been called to adopt in 2011 when our son wasn’t born until 2015. Within a few months of Simon’s adoption finalization in September 2015, however, I started thinking of that second child we were always open to adopting. We started praying for discernment about adopting again. I joined some Facebook groups advocating for waiting children, both domestically and internationally. Brad had expressed a preference to adopt a girl aged 3-5 who would fit in the 5 year gap between our youngest 2 children.
In July 2016 I found a 4 year old Chinese girl called “Leilani” on an adoption agency advocacy page. Interestingly enough the name “Leilani” is Hawaiian (where our youngest son was born). Brad and I decided to request additional information about her. There wasn’t much in her file, but we were definitely interested so we requested the agency “hold” her file while we had it reviewed by the International Adoption Clinic. Once we spoke with the doctor, we decided to proceed with pursuing her adoption. Within 2 weeks we had pre-approval from China and officially started the process. Compared to Simon’s adoption process, Annie’s was a whirlwind. We started paperwork in August 2016 and by the end of April 2017, we had travel approval. On her 5th birthday, we boarded a plane to China to bring our daughter home.
At some point in the process, I realized that the little girl who was to become our daughter was conceived around the time we actively started pursuing adoption in 2011. We never considered adopting from China during our first adoption. Her finding ad, the Chinese government’s attempt to locate her birth family, was published on my birthday in 2015, just over a month before we would meet Simon. There is evidence in some of our documents that her file began being prepared for adoption in November 2015 and was completed right around the time we started actively searching for the little girl to complete our family. While I will never understand why she spent the first 5 years of her life without a family, I can see God’s hand in the way she joined ours.
In coming up with a name, we had to remember that this little girl already had a name— Yi Shan (pronounced EEE-Shawn). We had heard that many Chinese children want an American name when they are adopted. We learned that orphaned children are often named by the orphanage director and that the names often are chosen more as a way of inventorying the children who come into their care. That being said, we didn’t want to disregard her past altogether. The name we had previously chosen for a girl didn’t seem to match the fiery girl we saw in videos and photographs. We finally settled on Annie Charis Yishan. Annie is a short spunky name, and is a derivative of Anna, which means “grace.” Charis (pronounced CARE-ess) was the middle name we already loved. I “found” it several years prior in a book I read, called Charis: God’s Scandalous Grace for Us by Preston Sprinkle. Charis is the Greek word for grace, so our newest daughter’s name means “ grace grace.” Here is her verse:
Sunday, May 13, 2018
My Path to Motherhood
I am one of the privileged. Not only do I get to be a mom (many times over), but I’ve been able to experience different paths to motherhood.
I’ve waited 4 weeks to learn I would be a mother, and I’ve waited 4 years.
I’ve had sadness, joy, and utter surprise with pregnancy test results. I’ve been disappointed dozens of times with emails saying it wasn’t my turn this time. I’ve received an email saying we were matched, and I’ve been shocked with a late night phone call that my child was waiting for me. I’ve received phone calls day and night asking if we could open our home for a short time for a child.
I have Googled due date calculators and bought books about pregnancy and fetal development. I have also researched adoption options and read books on child trauma.
I have gone to prenatal appointments with my OB/GYN and heard my baby‘s heartbeat. I have brought home ultrasound videos and pictures. I have also had appointments with social workers and have been fingerprinted more times than your average criminal. I have mailed documents with my most private information all over the US to be authenticated.
I have had labwork to check my health and the health of my unborn child. I’ve also paid out-of-pocket for HIV, syphilis, and other unnecessary testing to demonstrate I am healthy enough to parent another’s child. I have paid doctors to review medical files that’ve been translated into English.
I’ve packed my bags for a couple nights in the hospital down the street. I’ve packed bags for a couple weeks for a trip across the ocean.
I have bought maternity clothes and newborn baby clothes while awaiting the arrival of some of my children. For others I’ve purchased infant, child, or teen-sized clothes.
I have bought strollers, diapers, and nursing pillows. I have also bought cell phone plans, sneakers, and hearing aids.
I have arrived at the hospital with diaper rash cream, nasal aspirators, and gas drops. I have also gone to meet my child with scabies cream, lice treatments, and ponytail holders.
I have held my child in the first seconds of life. I have also missed months or years of a child’s life. For some I have pictures from the day they were born while for others I have no baby pictures at all.
I have children whose original birth certificate did not bear my name. Some of my children were given a name the day they were born: others waited months or years to be named.
I am the only mom some of my children have ever known, and for others I share that privileged title.
I have children who gave me morning sickness and stretch marks. I have other children who I would have traded labor pain in a second to forgo the heartache while we waited for each other.
I have no idea what I was doing the day some of my children were born. I have a child who is not biologically or legally mine, but I am the only one who remembers his birthday.
I look at some of my children and see a semblance of myself in their face. I marvel that others accepted a mother whose face, voice, and scent were not familiar.
For some children, the bond was immediate, as if I’d known them forever. For others that bond has taken work, but love is an action, not a feeling. The fact they were born of my womb or my heart was not the deciding factor.
I have felt unreserved joy and gratitude. I have also felt undeserving and unprepared. The highest highs and lowest lows come with motherhood.
Despite how they came to me, to my children: I will always love you, no matter what. I will always fight for you. I am okay being uncomfortable or inconvenienced for you. I know I will screw up more times than I want to admit, but I will continue to humble myself to apologize and show you that no one is perfect. My biggest hope for you is that you will come to know how loved you are by me, by your dad, and most of all by your Heavenly Father... that He is always there for you, even when I wasn’t.
I’ve waited 4 weeks to learn I would be a mother, and I’ve waited 4 years.
I’ve had sadness, joy, and utter surprise with pregnancy test results. I’ve been disappointed dozens of times with emails saying it wasn’t my turn this time. I’ve received an email saying we were matched, and I’ve been shocked with a late night phone call that my child was waiting for me. I’ve received phone calls day and night asking if we could open our home for a short time for a child.
I have Googled due date calculators and bought books about pregnancy and fetal development. I have also researched adoption options and read books on child trauma.
I have gone to prenatal appointments with my OB/GYN and heard my baby‘s heartbeat. I have brought home ultrasound videos and pictures. I have also had appointments with social workers and have been fingerprinted more times than your average criminal. I have mailed documents with my most private information all over the US to be authenticated.
I have had labwork to check my health and the health of my unborn child. I’ve also paid out-of-pocket for HIV, syphilis, and other unnecessary testing to demonstrate I am healthy enough to parent another’s child. I have paid doctors to review medical files that’ve been translated into English.
I’ve packed my bags for a couple nights in the hospital down the street. I’ve packed bags for a couple weeks for a trip across the ocean.
I have bought maternity clothes and newborn baby clothes while awaiting the arrival of some of my children. For others I’ve purchased infant, child, or teen-sized clothes.
I have bought strollers, diapers, and nursing pillows. I have also bought cell phone plans, sneakers, and hearing aids.
I have arrived at the hospital with diaper rash cream, nasal aspirators, and gas drops. I have also gone to meet my child with scabies cream, lice treatments, and ponytail holders.
I have held my child in the first seconds of life. I have also missed months or years of a child’s life. For some I have pictures from the day they were born while for others I have no baby pictures at all.
I have children whose original birth certificate did not bear my name. Some of my children were given a name the day they were born: others waited months or years to be named.
I am the only mom some of my children have ever known, and for others I share that privileged title.
I have children who gave me morning sickness and stretch marks. I have other children who I would have traded labor pain in a second to forgo the heartache while we waited for each other.
I have no idea what I was doing the day some of my children were born. I have a child who is not biologically or legally mine, but I am the only one who remembers his birthday.
I look at some of my children and see a semblance of myself in their face. I marvel that others accepted a mother whose face, voice, and scent were not familiar.
For some children, the bond was immediate, as if I’d known them forever. For others that bond has taken work, but love is an action, not a feeling. The fact they were born of my womb or my heart was not the deciding factor.
I have felt unreserved joy and gratitude. I have also felt undeserving and unprepared. The highest highs and lowest lows come with motherhood.
Despite how they came to me, to my children: I will always love you, no matter what. I will always fight for you. I am okay being uncomfortable or inconvenienced for you. I know I will screw up more times than I want to admit, but I will continue to humble myself to apologize and show you that no one is perfect. My biggest hope for you is that you will come to know how loved you are by me, by your dad, and most of all by your Heavenly Father... that He is always there for you, even when I wasn’t.
Sunday, April 29, 2018
What I’m Reading
I slacked a little lately on blogging about books I’m reading, so here’s an update!
In case you don’t remember, at the beginning of the year I was selected for a year-long commitment to have first access to several Christian fiction books published by WaterBrook & Multnomah. I’ve read 2 so far and hopefully the 3rd book is on the way!
I was pumped to learn last Friday that I was chosen for another launch team for Beautifully Interrupted, Teresa S. Anderson’s first book. She is a fellow adoptive mom (4 Ethiopian beauties and 2 biological sons). I have followed her on social media for several years and was super excited to be chosen. She has some extra goodies available if you preorder her book:
http://www.teresaswanstromanderson.com/beautifully-interrupted
For more information on my upcoming book club reads:
Where the Fire Falls by Karen Barnett (available 6/5/18)
Here is the link for a sneak peek:
https://www.facebook.com/waterbrookmultnomahfiction/posts/1597359126968298
Beautifully Interrupted by Teresa Swanstrom Anderson (available 5/15/18)
Here is the link for her book trailer:
https://www.facebook.com/teresaswanstromanderson/videos/1764213423672338/
Do you enjoy reading and wish you could be part of a book club but have a schedule like mine that doesn’t leave much room for getting together to discuss a book? Online book clubs are a solution to my scheduling issues, but one I tried the past wasn’t a good fit. I was home from church this morning with a sick child and stumbled upon another and the topic caught my eye: HOSPITALITY
I almost chose “hospitality” for my word of the year last year, but frankly the topic scared me. As an introvert, natural planner, and full-time working mom of 5 children, the idea of opening my home to others is uncomfortable to say the least. My house is always a wreck, and I’m rarely prepared to host others, particularly without a LOT of advance notice. But I can acknowledge the Biblical mandate (see Romans 12:13) and importance in witnessing to others through opening one’s home. I admit that I enjoy fellowshipping with others on the rare occasion that we do have someone over. So maybe it’s time for me to step outside my comfort zone (seems like that is a key to growth in relationship with God) and learn how to be a better host.
If this sounds like an interesting topic to you as well, check out the Just Open the Door Book Club, hosted by (in)courage. The book is Just Open the Door: How One Invitation Can Change a Generation by Jen Schmidt. It is free to join, but you will need a copy of the book to follow along. The first chapter is available to download free if you plan to purchase a paper copy. The official start date is April 30, but it’s not hard to jump in later if you need. Here is the link for more information:
http://www.incourage.me/2018/04/join-just-open-door-book-club.html
See the “2018 Books” tab on my blog to see what books I’m currently reading and my thoughts on books I’ve read already this year. Also, check out my last blog post about Simon and his name. I’ve posted about all my children except our most recent addition, Annie. Hers is coming soon!
Tuesday, March 27, 2018
Simon
We prayed for the child who would become our son Simon for 4 years. Naming a child so long awaited was different than naming a biological child we knew would arrive in a few months. Simon’s name was chosen 2 years prior in the midst of our wait to adopt. Late one evening in June 2015 we finally got the call that we had been matched with a 3 month old baby boy born in Hawaii. Brad and I quickly agreed to give our new son the name we had already chosen: Simon Levi. I stayed up all night making travel arrangements and lists of needed baby items. While taking a break to soak in what was happening, I decided to recheck what the name we had chosen meant. I got chills when I saw that Simon means “hear” and Levi means “joined/attached.” When we agreed to present our profile to Simon’s birth mom, we were informed that Simon had been born with mild to moderate hearing loss. His was the first (and only) time that we pursued a child with known special needs. His first name, chosen before he was even conceived, referred to his specific special need, while his middle name indicated he would be joined with our family through adoption. Levi was also another name for the apostle Matthew, a name that means “gift of God.”
Like most parents of a child born with hearing loss, we were naive about what all was involved. I am so grateful that when we were making the decision to present our profile for him, we saw the big picture: his hearing loss is not something that will limit him unless he chooses to allow it. But the reality is, we didn’t know what we were getting into, which was SUCH a blessing because we could have missed out on our son!
Simon does hear, just not well enough. We mistakenly assumed we would simply get him hearing aids, and they would compensate for any deficits. We did not anticipate the difficulties Simon would have with speech. To complicate things even more, Simon has had trouble with chronic ear infections and fluid in his ears that further limited and distorted his hearing, even with hearing aids. To this point in his life, at 3 years old, Simon has likely had the equivalent of about 15 months of “normal” aided hearing, which is reflected in his speech delays.
Our son Simon was named for several Biblical figures, primarily Simon Peter. Our son is bold and exhuberant and impulsive, just as I picture Simon Peter was. My prayer for my son is that one day he will boldly proclaim the Good News to all who will listen with a voice that he fought hard to develop.
Simon is a feisty little guy, a natural comedian, and likely musician. I have never had any doubt that my son would speak. I can’t explain why except that God has given me a supernatural peace about it. When I found Isaiah 30:21, I knew it was perfect for Simon:
Like most parents of a child born with hearing loss, we were naive about what all was involved. I am so grateful that when we were making the decision to present our profile for him, we saw the big picture: his hearing loss is not something that will limit him unless he chooses to allow it. But the reality is, we didn’t know what we were getting into, which was SUCH a blessing because we could have missed out on our son!
Simon does hear, just not well enough. We mistakenly assumed we would simply get him hearing aids, and they would compensate for any deficits. We did not anticipate the difficulties Simon would have with speech. To complicate things even more, Simon has had trouble with chronic ear infections and fluid in his ears that further limited and distorted his hearing, even with hearing aids. To this point in his life, at 3 years old, Simon has likely had the equivalent of about 15 months of “normal” aided hearing, which is reflected in his speech delays.
Our son Simon was named for several Biblical figures, primarily Simon Peter. Our son is bold and exhuberant and impulsive, just as I picture Simon Peter was. My prayer for my son is that one day he will boldly proclaim the Good News to all who will listen with a voice that he fought hard to develop.
Simon is a feisty little guy, a natural comedian, and likely musician. I have never had any doubt that my son would speak. I can’t explain why except that God has given me a supernatural peace about it. When I found Isaiah 30:21, I knew it was perfect for Simon:
Watch out world, because God has big things in store for Simon!
Thursday, February 15, 2018
Micah
Micah has been full of surprises from the moment we found out we were expecting her. As we started discussing baby names, we chose Micah Benjamin for a boy name but struggled to choose a girl name. Brad suggested we keep Micah for a first name and use a more traditional girl middle name. Around that time I read the book Yearning: Living Between How It Is & How It Ought to Be by M. Craig Barnes. The message of the book really spoke to me and from that, I knew our daughter’s middle name should be Grace. The evening of September 11, 2009 I finished the book. There were several discussions in the book that reminded me of a friend’s son, Alex, who had been battling cancer for 14 months. The next morning I found out that Alex had passed away the day before. At his funeral, his mother told me that Micah’s due date (February 19) was the same due date she had when she was expecting Alex 4 years prior. She said maybe Micah would be born on Alex’s birthday: February 15.
Five months later, I checked in to the hospital on February 15 for an induction. I thought I knew what to expect after 2 prior inductions. Immediately after getting an epidural, I knew something was wrong. My legs felt extremely numb, and I couldn’t move them at all. Soon I realized the numbness was moving higher and higher up my back. My blood pressure bottomed out, which caused the nurse to run in. I recall someone saying that the pump for the epidural was indicating it had given me multiple doses of medication. By now I was losing sensation in my arms. I remember squeezing Brad’s hand over and over to reassure him I was still conscious— my fingers were the only thing I could move at this point. I was having trouble speaking and turning my head and was using accessory muscles to breathe.
In trying to determine what went wrong, I knew I’d either been overdosed or that the anesthesiologist had placed the epidural in the wrong depth in my back, causing the medication to travel higher than it should. I remember the nurse telling me that Micah was okay and listening to the reassuring rhythm of her heart beat on the monitor. As long as my baby was okay, I could wait for the drug’s effects to wear off. The nurse later told me that it worried them because I was so calm.
I had done a clinical rotation in PT school working with spinal cord injuries, so I started trying to figure out how high up my spine the drugs had reached. I was afraid that my diaphragm (C-4) would be paralyzed, and I would lose the ability to breathe on my own, which was a terrifying thought. I knew the drugs had at least partially affected higher levels as I could not speak above a whisper, hold my head up, or feel someone touching my face. For a brief period of time, I was unable to swallow. I was in and out of consciousness for several hours.
Slowly, my mind became clearer, and I regained upper body function. Before long, I could feel Micah moving around, which is not something I remembered with my prior deliveries. Then, came the pain of contractions. I felt horrendous back labor about the time I learned I was 8 cm dilated. I was told I could get more drugs through the epidural catheter, but they couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t have the same results. I wasn’t mentally prepared for a painful delivery, but I was not going to risk accepting more pain medication!
Labor hurt. It took an hour of pushing before Micah was born. She entered the world pink and screaming and hungry! When our family came in to see Micah, I overheard my dad ask why there was a crash cart outside my room. Apparently the drugs also caused a worrisome abnormal rhythm in my heart as well.
I was so happy to have a healthy baby that I really didn’t have a chance to process all that had happened. A few weeks later I did a continuing education course for my PT license about treating pregnant and post-partum women. The study discussed the positive effects of exercise during pregnancy. When a pregnant woman exercises consistently, her body learns to divert needed blood flow to the placenta for the baby instead of sending it all to the working skeletal muscles. I had trained my body to keep my baby nourished even under stress, which kept my baby stable during the daylong ordeal. It was then I realized how much God had protected me and Micah that day.
Micah’s name means “Who is like God?” Although a small book in the Bible, Micah revealed that “Bethlehem Ephrathah, though small...” is where Jesus Christ would come from. I’m seeing a small theme, just like our Micah. It takes spunk to handle a traditionally male name, and Micah is most definitely up for the challenge. Micah has always had a special gift for sharing her faith. She has even reported trying to hold Bible studies on the playground at school in first grade! Her middle name is also fitting of the little girl the Lord knew we needed: Grace—an undeserved gift. Her verse was a favorite from the prophet whose name she bears:
Five months later, I checked in to the hospital on February 15 for an induction. I thought I knew what to expect after 2 prior inductions. Immediately after getting an epidural, I knew something was wrong. My legs felt extremely numb, and I couldn’t move them at all. Soon I realized the numbness was moving higher and higher up my back. My blood pressure bottomed out, which caused the nurse to run in. I recall someone saying that the pump for the epidural was indicating it had given me multiple doses of medication. By now I was losing sensation in my arms. I remember squeezing Brad’s hand over and over to reassure him I was still conscious— my fingers were the only thing I could move at this point. I was having trouble speaking and turning my head and was using accessory muscles to breathe.
In trying to determine what went wrong, I knew I’d either been overdosed or that the anesthesiologist had placed the epidural in the wrong depth in my back, causing the medication to travel higher than it should. I remember the nurse telling me that Micah was okay and listening to the reassuring rhythm of her heart beat on the monitor. As long as my baby was okay, I could wait for the drug’s effects to wear off. The nurse later told me that it worried them because I was so calm.
I had done a clinical rotation in PT school working with spinal cord injuries, so I started trying to figure out how high up my spine the drugs had reached. I was afraid that my diaphragm (C-4) would be paralyzed, and I would lose the ability to breathe on my own, which was a terrifying thought. I knew the drugs had at least partially affected higher levels as I could not speak above a whisper, hold my head up, or feel someone touching my face. For a brief period of time, I was unable to swallow. I was in and out of consciousness for several hours.
Slowly, my mind became clearer, and I regained upper body function. Before long, I could feel Micah moving around, which is not something I remembered with my prior deliveries. Then, came the pain of contractions. I felt horrendous back labor about the time I learned I was 8 cm dilated. I was told I could get more drugs through the epidural catheter, but they couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t have the same results. I wasn’t mentally prepared for a painful delivery, but I was not going to risk accepting more pain medication!
Labor hurt. It took an hour of pushing before Micah was born. She entered the world pink and screaming and hungry! When our family came in to see Micah, I overheard my dad ask why there was a crash cart outside my room. Apparently the drugs also caused a worrisome abnormal rhythm in my heart as well.
I was so happy to have a healthy baby that I really didn’t have a chance to process all that had happened. A few weeks later I did a continuing education course for my PT license about treating pregnant and post-partum women. The study discussed the positive effects of exercise during pregnancy. When a pregnant woman exercises consistently, her body learns to divert needed blood flow to the placenta for the baby instead of sending it all to the working skeletal muscles. I had trained my body to keep my baby nourished even under stress, which kept my baby stable during the daylong ordeal. It was then I realized how much God had protected me and Micah that day.
Micah’s name means “Who is like God?” Although a small book in the Bible, Micah revealed that “Bethlehem Ephrathah, though small...” is where Jesus Christ would come from. I’m seeing a small theme, just like our Micah. It takes spunk to handle a traditionally male name, and Micah is most definitely up for the challenge. Micah has always had a special gift for sharing her faith. She has even reported trying to hold Bible studies on the playground at school in first grade! Her middle name is also fitting of the little girl the Lord knew we needed: Grace—an undeserved gift. Her verse was a favorite from the prophet whose name she bears:
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