His Hand is Stretched out still

We don't watch a lot of TV, especially not during the day. Last Friday I didn't hear about the awful events in Newtown, CT until a little later in the day. It was disturbing news... even before finding out that it all took place at an elementary school. That just took it to a whole new level. I found myself shaking my head in disbelief, so much that by early afternoon I had a headache and a stomach that wouldn't settle.

That afternoon, in a bit of a daze, I watched my boys making messes and doing things in general that usually drive me crazy (unrolling a whole roll of paper towels, fighting over toys, etc...) and I actually found myself feeling grateful that I had them there with me, alive and well enough to be making those messes.

When it quieted down for nap time, I took some time with each of them to cup their faces in my hands, looking into their eyes and told them that I loved them. Hugh looked back at me with big eyes, almost as if he sensed the intensity of the moment. I honestly felt a little relief that they are too young to go into any detail with them about what happened. It makes me a little sad to think that one day there will be some other awful story in the news and I'll probably have to then. I just hope a horror like that isn't ever anything any of us will have to experience first-hand.

I tried to put myself in the shoes of a six-year old child in that kind of situation or in the shoes of a mother who has to hear her child is gone, taken in such an evil way. But, it was all too unsettling and I just couldn't go there.

In the process of trying to come to terms with my own feelings about the tragic details, I came across a lot of quotes and images on facebook that people wanted to share. One that came up a number of times was the quote by Mr. Rogers:

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ To this day, especially in times of ‘disaster,’ I remember my mother’s words, and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers - so many caring people in this world.”

I appreciated hearing such wise words from a wise man. There was another sentiment that came up that, on the surface, seemed like a good explanation, but deep down made me feel uncomfortable. This idea that the shooting happened in Newtown because we've pushed God out of our schools and so He's abandoned us.

I'm still sorting through my feelings on the matter, so bear with me. While God doesn't force His will or His love on us, I feel very certain that He has much "thicker skin" than us emotionally fragile humans. We can push Him away over and over and cut Him off completely, but as was often quoted by Isaiah, even at our very worst, "His hand is stretched out still." I can't imagine that God, a loving Father in Heaven, would withhold His comfort and presence from a school full of young children, HIS young children, just because there was some person somewhere that said there shouldn't be prayer in school.

What about the shooting that happened at the Amish school a few years back? They likely had prayer to start their day. Or, what about shootings that happen inside churches or other places of worship? In those cases, the logic of that sentiment totally falls apart.

The truth is that sometimes we pray for things and sometimes those prayers are answered and sometimes they're not. Sometimes God sees fit to intervene and provide protection and sometimes He doesn't. It can feel futile to try to make sense of why He does or doesn't do something, but it's important to remember that God sees a much clearer picture of His plan and His purposes.

It seems to me that it comes down to a matter of agency, or free will. God allows us to make choices. He can try to persuade or prompt us in a certain direction, but He will never force us to be good or to follow His commandments. That means that sometimes evil things happen. Does that make God less powerful or less available to the innocent who suffer at the hands of evil? No way.

In fact, if there were some way we could get a glimpse of Sandy Hook in the moments before, during, and after the shooting occurred, and if it were possible to see the tragedy with spiritual eyes, I wonder what we would see. I imagine we'd see hosts of angels, waiting and ready to comfort, to calm, to inspire, to strengthen. Just because the shooter was able to accomplish his evil act and killed so many innocent children, and equally innocent adults, doesn't mean that God was not there. Surely He was no where else but there that day, watching with the same heartache and sadness at one of His own sons using his agency to hurt so many people in an unimaginable way.

I don't know why He allowed it to happen. I don't know why He didn't intervene. But, the God I know wouldn't have been anywhere else that day. And, for those who have been left behind, I know He is there walking with them, suffering and grieving with them. He does not leave us comfortless. He seeks us out and walks with us.

It's awful what happened. It's unimaginable. I've shed tears over it.

I'd imagine God has shed more than anyone.

Prayers for a friend

Just after we lost our twins, I came across another couple's blog who had also just recently lost their baby boy. Cali and I exchanged emails in those first few months and she was an incredible source of strength for me during that time. Since then, she and her husband have added a darling little girl to their family and recently found out they were expecting another baby boy.

There have been some complications during this pregnancy and in the last couple of days things have taken a terrible turn for the worst. I haven't been able to think of much else tonight and hoped I could solicit some extra prayers on her behalf.

If you go to Cali's blog, here, you can read more about her situation, as well as the link on the most current blog post to her sister-in-law's blog about her current status.

I feel completely unable to express how much my heart hurts for what this family must be going through right now and I know that any and all prayers offered on their behalf will add to their ability to get through whatever lies ahead.

A Bit of Heaven

Ever since my friend, Annie, moved over a month ago, we've been talking about making plans to meet up - somewhere, somehow. So, our plans finally materialized today after a spur of the moment conversation on the phone yesterday. We picked a halfway point, making it about a 90-minute drive for both of us. I was super excited... except for the bad dream that was trying to haunt me enough to keep me home, safe and sound.

You see, yesterday afternoon as I laid down for a little nap I was so exhausted that all I could think of was how I was going to make the drive home after our play date, right in the middle of my normal nap time. (And, by the way, I feel no shame in admitting I have a normal nap time!) Somehow that thought then translated into me having a dream about making that 90-minute drive back home and getting in a car accident.

So, last night before bed I told Marc about the dream, asking him to help me distinguish between what might be thoughts to heed and thoughts that were being fed by some overactive OCD scenarios. I felt reassured when he responded that he was sure everything was going to go just fine and I didn't need to worry about getting in an accident.

Sure enough, we made it to our meeting point just before 10am without any problems. The boys did great in the car and were great little travelers, even sleeping for the last 30 minutes of the drive.

We let our four boys play at this great little playground for a good 90 minutes or so before we relocated to perhaps the happiest place on earth for four hungry little boys. You would have called it the happiest place on earth too if you could have witnessed what Annie and I witnessed as we all ate lunch together! I should have gotten my camera out to have some proof. It was so much fun. I don't know when I laughed as hard as I did today. Our boys play pretty good together and I was so happy to have some girl time with Annie.

After nearly three hours together, we all got safely buckled into our cars and drove in opposite directions, heading back to our homes. Annie and I promised we'd call each other as soon as we were safely home. I quickly called Marc to let him know I was leaving, giving him a rough idea of when he could expect me home. That was 12:37pm.

The next time I tried to call him was 1:01pm. That was when our really fun day had suddenly made a wrong, very unexpected turn. I thought the stroller in our trunk was the cause for me struggling up some of the steeper hills on the drive. But on one particularly steep incline I learned there was something much more serious going on. I gassed it and the engine was revving, but I watched helplessly as the speedometer gradually decreased more and more until I realized I was starting to drift backwards, back down the hill I was trying to climb.

This is a two-lane, curvy highway through rather hilly terrain. My misfortune occurred in a rather fortunate area - a rare spot where there were passing lanes in both directions and a barely wide enough shoulder for me to slowly back my car into a safer position, making it so cars could pass by me without us being as much of a danger to us or to anyone else.

So, once I was backed onto the shoulder, I tried to call Marc only to realize I was in an unfortunate area where there was no cell phone service. I thought 9-1-1 was supposed to work even in those areas, so I tried that. Guess what? It doesn't work. I looked around me - in the middle of nowhere, miles from getting help, no houses in sight. Oh, and at that moment panic set in. I felt so helpless and scared. Tears filled my eyes immediately and effortlessly, and just as I was about to completely loss my cool, I knew the first and the best thing for me to do was to pray.

I considered praying that my car would just suddenly work again or that I'd somehow get cell service miraculously. And, even though I knew neither of those were beyond God's power to make happen, instead I found myself pleading for two things - "Please, God, keep my boys and me safe. And, please send someone who can help us out of this situation." That was about when I looked in the back seat - Hugh exhausted and sound-asleep and Ben looking back at me with tired, but hopeful eyes. There was something in his eyes that communicated calm and hope to my heart... even if it was just my own survival mode kicking in, realizing this was not a time for me to crumble, this was a time for me to find whatever courage it would take to get the help we needed.

I got out of the car, locked the doors, and somewhat timidly waved down the very next car that came speeding by. They passed me right by and I was so close to falling apart again. My hopeless gaze followed them as they passed and that was when I saw that maybe their reflexes had just been a little slow. Maybe they felt some empathy for such a desperate-looking pregnant lady. They slowed down and then backed down the hill a little, while I ran up to meet them.

My biggest fear about waving someone down was not knowing who would stop and if they'd turn out to be someone I'd want to have stop. Hence, the timid wave. But, in this situation I really didn't have any other choice. You can imagine my relief when right away I felt reassured that this middle-aged couple was the answer to my simple, yet urgent prayer. They didn't have cell service either, but wrote down my cell phone number and my husband's, promising they'd call him as soon as they had service again.

So, with that, I climbed back into the safety of my car where Hugh was still sleeping and Ben was my sweet source of calm. He should have been asleep like Hugh, but there was something about having him awake with me that made the whole situation easier. I had to find things to distract him, to keep him happy... and in the process I was distracted and kept happy, too.

About 20 minutes later my helpful couple came back from the direction they'd left in, just to let me know that they'd found a Call Box a few miles up the road and that CHP would be on their way to help me out. They said the dispatcher would call Marc, but that they'd also call Marc as soon as they had coverage.

About 20 minutes later a CHP officer arrived. It's now about 2pm. After talking for a few minutes outside our cars, he offered to push my car up the steep hill with his car, putting us in a much safer place where there was a turnoff - a Vista Point.

The officer wrote down Marc's cell number and said he'd call dispatch to confirm he'd been reached and was on his way, before leaving. He went back to his car and I got back into mine. Both boys were wide awake now and I was distracting them with apples and water. After about ten minutes the officer came back to let me know that Marc was on his way, but that he had decided to stay with me until help arrived. I can't tell you how comforting it was to not be left alone there in the middle of nowhere, still more than an hour from home and still with no available communication with anyone. Even when his shift change was about to happen, he called for another CHP officer to come take his place, as my sort of personal guardian.

At this point it was 3pm and the boys were just starting to get a little restless, so I got them out of their carseats and let them play in the driver's seat and roam freely from the front seat to the back. They clearly thought this was such a great game, completely protected from the stress and worry of the situation.

Another hour passed before Marc and my Dad showed up, the most welcomed sight ever! I heaved a huge sigh of relief. The CHP officer stayed around long enough to make sure Triple A was on its way to help us get towed, and then we thanked him profusely before he left, no doubt ready to serve the public in any way possible. Such kind and thoughtful CHP officers helping us today, more heaven-sent help for sure.

After getting everything out of our car and into my Dad's, the tow truck arrived and we finally made it back home at 6:30pm (over four hours later than originally anticipated), just in time to eat some dinner and get the boys in the bath and settled for bed.

It ended up being a much longer and more exhausting day than I expected, but it was so much fun to see Annie and her boys! And, as much as I could have done without the car problems and the extra drama that followed, I'm sitting here feeling such an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for the simple (yet profound) reminders that God does answer prayers and is aware of the details in my life. I know He was watching over us today. I know He kept us safe and I know He sent us people that would help us get home. It's good to be reminded every once in a while that even when we are among millions of others in the world seeking help and guidance, we are not forgotten or overlooked by a loving Father who loves us all individually and perfectly, and responds in simple (yet miraculous) ways.

Some might argue that the way things came together for us today was simply luck, but I know better. Luck doesn't happen the way things happened today. Today I experienced a bit of heaven as I witnessed very specific answers to some very specific pleas come help me in an urgent time of need. There is no other explanation.

(And, Annie, if you're reading this, even at the end of the day I have no regrets about meeting up with you today... if I could do it all over, I'd still have made the trip to see you. Let's get a date set for next month!)

Surgery Day

Our morning started extra early. Ben woke up at 5am. We hoped he'd go back to sleep, but ten minutes later Hugh was up and both were crying in unison. Not exactly how I was wanting the day to start. Hugh wasn't able to eat or drink after midnight, so I got him up at 11pm last night to feed him some yogurt and nurse him once more. Still, he was just a little confused (and possibly mad) this morning when I didn't nurse him or make him any pancakes. One of the hardest moments of the day.

We had to check in two hours before his scheduled time, just in case they finished with the other patient early and could get Hugh in early, too. Hanging out in a waiting room for nearly two hours on an empty stomach, Hugh was a champ! He played with his cars, "bbbrrrrmmming" the whole time... until he noticed the cats on the TV, which then had him meowing. He is my little ham, constantly bringing out smiles and laughter from everyone in his presence.

It was so perfect when they called us back to the pre-op room, to find on his bed a tiny hospital gown with little tigers on it. When I pointed it out, he went back and forth from a meow to a roar. And, then he kept trying to find a way out of his gown.

He put up a good fight with the blood pressure cuff, which dashed the nurses plans to try get the IV in with Hugh awake and aware. So, that came later, after they put the mask over his face and made him drift into some crazy deep sleep. But, I wasn't there for that part. I had to hand him off to a kind-faced nurse named Lisa. She had a warm blanket in her arms, ready to embrace him as I gave him to her at the door of the operating room. I walked away quickly, so he wouldn't look or reach for me. And so I wouldn't cry. And then I took a deep breath.

For the next hour, I filled a prescription for some pain medicine for Hugh, went to the bank and the grocery store, and checked off a couple of other quick errands. I made it back just in time to get settled and about to open up my new book, when I saw one of Hugh's nurses rushing toward me in the waiting room. I hurriedly gathered my things and followed her to Hugh's recovery room. Just as she opened the door, I heard his undeniable scream.

Music to my ears. He was waking up from that deep scary sleep and he was alive and well. In pain and a little confused, but that was remedied with some snuggling and his delayed morning feeding. Soon he was fast asleep in my arms. After they felt satisfied with their monitoring of him, he was discharged and we came back home to more snuggling and sleeping for the rest of the afternoon.

Hugh seemed to not be able to use his legs much, even by the end of the evening, but we're thinking that's probably normal and we're hoping all will be back to normal tomorrow. But, he can still meow. He sat comfortably with Marc while I made him some soup for dinner, laughing at Ben and "bbbrrrrmmming" while playing with his cars. And, he still remembers how to give kisses.

I'm realizing it was silly of me to hope for a boring day, but it definitely lacked drama and trauma, and that was more than what I could have hoped for. I'm breathing more calmly and deeply tonight, so grateful for my two boys sleeping peacefully down the hall, for their lives that continue to be preserved and for the joy and fullness they bring to my life.

And, a big thank you (again and again) to those of you who offered your prayers on our behalf!

Home Sweet Home

It's 2:40pm and I just sent myself to our hospital "room" (which is really more like a closet with a bed in it). I'm not in trouble, though. I'm giving myself a chance to lay down for a little bit before we make our drive home. 

TODAY!

Last night after I fed my little boy, I was rocking him to sleep, still feeling rather weepy. As my tears fell down my cheeks and onto his, I pleaded with him to be strong and to sleep well so that his body could heal properly so that we could finally take him home. He seemed to look into my eyes knowing exactly what I was saying. And then he calmly closed his eyes and drifted into dreamland.

I woke up this morning feeling much less emotional and resigned to the idea of waiting another day or more if necessary for the health of our Hugh. That is our number one priority afterall. When I went into his room, I was greeted by one of his doctors, who informed me that she was doing a more thorough exam on Hugh like they do with every baby the day they go home. Those were her words. And, I had to clarify that I heard correctly.

Hugh ended up being on the oxygen for only three hours, his chest x-ray came back looking "excellent", and he's currently passing his last test - the car seat test, which is making sure he can make the ride home without his numbers dipping down dangerously low. This final test will be done in about 45 minutes. And, then we're good to go.

I can hardly believe how dramatically things have seemed to change since last night. My heart is so happy. It helped, too, that I got to see my little Benjamin this afternoon. My parents had to take my sister to the airport, so they all stopped by here for a quick visit. As crazy as I know things are about to get, my heart felt so full having all of us together in the same room. That's what I want. I can't wait! Just a few more hours and we'll be home.

Please, please know how grateful I am for all the prayers that have been offered on our behalf. I know, I know, they have made all the difference. My heart is so full. Thank you SO much!

Just another 24

I have to keep telling myself that... "it's just another 24 hours." That should be easy enough to handle, right? But, for some reason those extra 24 hours have sent me into a whirlwind of tears and discouragement.

The last couple of days Hugh's oxygen desaturation levels have been dipping during his afternoon naps, which they did again today even though he was doing awesome this morning. They have gone low enough to have the doctors concerned about sending him home just yet. I met with one of the doctors briefly this evening and she laid out what their plan of action is between now and Tuesday morning.

Put Hugh back on a liter of oxygen for the next 12 hours. (He is currently hooked up to it as I write this.)

Take a new x-ray of his lungs in the morning, after the oxygen is finished.

Watch him closely for the following 24 hours to see how his condition improves.

Assuming everything goes smoothly, we'll then be discharged Tuesday morning.

In theory I know this news shouldn't be that big of a deal, but I can't keep the tears from coming. For the last few days I've kept my eye on Monday morning, which already seemed so far away. I guess it's like running a marathon and pacing yourself for those 26.2 and then just when you've almost reached the point of pure exhaustion you're told that you'll actually have to run an extra 7 miles. Seven shouldn't be a problem after finishing 26.2... unless you haven't paced yourself for those extra 7.

I'm just ready to be home. It's killing me to be away from Ben for so long, but I know I need to be here to help Hugh. My body is in quite a bit of pain still and I'm exhausted from all the running around we have to do here. Of course, it doesn't help that I'm also dealing with all kinds of postpartum hormones.

My point is just... I don't know... we need your prayers. I feel so selfish asking for more when so many of you have already done so much. Ultimately we know it's best to keep Hugh here until he's strong enough to come home... we're just hoping that that happens very soon, meaning at least by Tuesday and not another 24 hours (or more) after that.

To end on a bit of a lighter note, I think his sleeping position during his afternoon nap yesterday was meant to show off how strong he is:

Feels Like Home

Last night, just before laying down for bed, I vomited all over my bed. It came so fast and unexpectedly I didn't have time to make it to the toilet or even the closest garbage can. It was pretty uncomfortable to throw up with the scars and abdominal pain that I'm currently experiencing, but my main concern was that somehow because of this the doctor would make me stay an extra day. I cried a little at the thought, but it hurts to laugh and cry right now, so I tried to keep my emotions in check and relax enough to fall asleep.

Morning came and nobody had come in to say I couldn't leave, so I started packing up. I opened the blinds and saw that the sun was shining for the first time since the day Hugh was born. It felt very fitting of how I was feeling about today. The hospital discharged me and some dear friends drove me down to The City in their very smooth ride. Marc stayed behind an extra day, but will be joining me tomorrow.

As we arrived at the hospital, I saw there was a message on my phone. It was one of the nurses caring for Hugh, letting me know that just hours before they had completely weaned him off the oxygen! That is hurdle number one. 

We got up to the NICU as quickly as possible and found Hugh being snuggled by one of his nurses. He still had some wires connected to him, but he wasn't tied down to one spot. After helping me get into a hospital gown, they handed Hugh to me.

Unspeakable emotions filled my heart and seemed to run through my entire body... and I couldn't keep the tears from coming. I was holding my baby boy, after more than three days of pure torture away from him. 

This was Home. 

We spent the afternoon cuddling. I was able to breastfeed him three times and he is getting the hang of it really fast. He slept on my shoulder while I rocked us both in a rocking chair. He is so sweet. I have another hand-holding baby boy.

I have some pictures of my beautiful boy that I'll try to post tomorrow. For now, I need to get my sleep. I just wanted to pass on the good news that Hugh is healing wonderfully and we will probably only be here for another couple of days. I owe a huge thank you to everyone for the prayers and kind thoughts offered on our behalf. I know we have been blessed because of those prayers for our little Hugh. Thank you so very much.

Here I Come...

I'll be discharged tomorrow morning and heading straight to be by the side of my baby. I've tried not to feel frustrated about having to wait this long before going down to be with him. I'm still technically recovering, but hoping that both Hugh and I will receive quicker healing being together. It has been so hard to be so far from him. I've received such mixed and confusing reports from his nurses that I'm not really sure exactly how he's doing, but one thing that has remained constant among all the reports is that he is doing well and continues to make small, steady improvements. I'm just hoping and praying that that story continues.

Thank you so much for all the prayers for Hugh and for our little family. We appreciate them more than I could ever express.

Answered Prayer and Aching Arms

I went to bed last night with a headache, caused by worry and exhaustion. Ben had fallen peacefully to sleep after his 9:30pm feeding. I carefully laid him down in a propped-up position, at the recommendation of Dr. Pediatrician (to keep the acid from refluxing). I quickly went through my nighttime routine - washed face, brushed teeth (dry heaved, at least once), scraped tongue (gagged again), divided up the formula for at least three mid-night feedings, laid a big fat kiss on my man, and finally collapsed to my knees at the side of my bed.

As I started to voice my thanks and then my pleadings for heaven's help and relief on behalf of our little boy, a tender feeling filled my heart. I knew I wasn't alone in my love and concern for Benjamin, and I felt reassured that I wouldn't be left without the intuition and ability to be his mother. As my prayer came to a close, I hoped that Ben was at least partially aware of my prayer for him, knowing this is only the beginning of a lifetime of prayers I'll send to heaven for him.

Except for the 2-hour stretch from 2:30-4:30am, our nighttime feedings last night appeared relatively calm and painless. (Thanks to answered prayers!) And even though those two hours weren't comfortable, there is a sweetness in being able to gently sway in the dark with my arms filled with so much love, and sing soft melodies of comfort. 

When sleep finally came to us both, I stretched out my aching arms... and thanked God for this kind of ache, (which is a million times better than the empty ache I knew for too many years) and again for Tracey in making this ache possible. 

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Honesty is the Best Policy

After writing that last blog entry, I hesitated a lot before publishing it. Then, I almost took it all back once I did make it public. Thanks to those who responded, either publicly or privately, with such love and understanding... your words have helped more than you know. I feel a mixture of embarrassment, shame, and guilt for the feelings that I've felt, only some of which I've shared here. But, they are real and as much as I hate feeling these very ugly feelings, it has been a huge relief to admit to having them and start to be healed from them. I'm just sorry to give a glimpse for everyone to see such an ugly side of my heart. Even so, I feel like it was incredibly liberating.

Before I left to live in Italy for a year and a half, I went through two months of intense language training. The six years before that were spent learning Spanish, which was my declared focus of study at the time. I was so afraid of forgetting the Spanish I had worked so hard to learn, that every time I learned something new in Italian, I would automatically translate it back into Spanish, hoping that I could somehow hang onto my Spanish language skills and learn this new language at the same time.

Well, it was not easy. In fact, it was terribly difficult... and the more time passed the more overwhelming it became. But, I would not admit that to anyone. I was afraid that I would be looked down on, I was afraid that I would be a big disappointment to those I loved the most, I was afraid of admitting that I wasn't smart enough or strong enough. Everyone else seemed to be doing just fine... what was wrong with me?

Then, one night I found myself laying in my bottom bunkbed, sharing a room with three other girls, and very quietly having a little breakdown. I couldn't sleep. The stress of the situation had gotten to be too heavy. Three weeks of faking it to everyone, three weeks of pretending that I was understanding everything, three weeks of speaking "Span-talian"... saying things like "muy bene." I was making a total fool of myself, all because I was too proud to ask for help, too proud to even admit that I was struggling.

That dark night, with silent tears wetting my cheeks, I had reached my limit. Somehow I found the courage to entrust my fears and my failures with God. I admitted that I was struggling, I acknowledged the overwhelming situation I found myself in. I told Him I was having a hard time and I pleaded for His help. It was so hard to express those feelings... I didn't want to disappoint Him. That was my biggest fear. If I admitted it was hard, then maybe He would regret having confidence in me.

But, that lonely dark night ended up being a turning point. The hardest part - admitting it was hard - was out of the way. From that point on, the language seemed to come easier, partly because I was honest with myself and with others about a burden that had become too heavy. 

As simple as that experience was, it has helped me to remember the important lesson I learned - that being true to the feelings I feel and honest with where I need help, only puts me in a position to receive the help that I need. It is a huge relief to be reassured in those painfully honest moments that I am not a disappointment. And, if I'm not yet a disappointment to God, then maybe I'm still doing okay. 

He has not abandoned me, even in my most ugly and awfully embarrassing moments. I've made sure to let Him know how deeply sorry I am for the feelings I've been having, and I can feel Him helping me through them in a healthy way. I'm being honest with my feelings and in response, He is blessing me with healing. He truly "healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds." (Psalms 147:3)

So, maybe that phrase "honesty is the best policy" even - and, maybe especially - applies to our prayers.

Heart throbs

I had the hardest time choosing a major when I was in college. It actually got to the point that at the beginning of my Junior year I wasn't allowed to register for classes until I declared a major. After a very long process that consisted of all kinds of failed attempts to find my "passion," I finally settled for "eenie, meenie, minie, moe" and ended up with Spanish as my major. 

I had done well in Spanish in high school, and the language had come fairly easy for me, so I figured at least that I could get good grades with Spanish as my major. I progressed quickly through the classes, and soon found myself in classes with students who had been missionaries in Spanish-speaking countries. And, as I thought ahead to the mission that I would serve, I would dream of all the Spanish-speaking countries I could possibly go to.

As you know, my mission call was to Italy. It came as a HUGE surprise to me. I had never once considered Italy as a possibility. In fact, after I first read my mission call, my friends and family who were with me said that I seemed very dazed as I repeated over and over again "I'm going to Italy." 

When I arrived at the Missionary Training Center I was very excited to jump into the language, since I had heard Italian was very similar to Spanish. My foundation of language learning proved to be both a blessing and a curse. Since I didn't want to forget all the Spanish I had learned, whenever I would learn something new in Italian, I would automatically translate it in my mind in Spanish... it shouldn't have been a surprise when in conversations I would use phrases like, "muy bene." That mixing of the two languages was greatly discouraged.

It must have been pretty bad, because after about three weeks at the MTC one of my teachers finally pulled me aside and said, "You have to stop speaking Spanish." I guess she was afraid that no one would understand me when I got to Italy. Go figure.

That was a major turning point for me. It was the first time in those three weeks that I recognized that I was having a really hard time. I had been so focused on staying positive that I finally realized that I was afraid if I admitted I was having a hard time, I would somehow disappoint my family, and more importantly God. But, the truth was that not only was I struggling with the language, I was struggling with homesickness, and with finding my place in this new way of life.

I still remember the moment kneeling in prayer, when I honestly opened up and admitted I was really having a hard time. It all came out... my fears about living in a foreign country with very limited contact with my family, my frustrations with learning a new language, my insecurities about being fit to be a missionary. And, the most incredible thing happened. As I trusted those very vulnerable feelings to God in prayer, I was filled with peace and reassurance that not only did He already know everything I was feeling, but He had been waiting and wanting to help me get through it.

Over the last three months, I've found myself feeling many of the same feelings as I did in those early weeks in the MTC. I've been trying so hard to go through this trial with a clear perspective and a positive attitude, afraid that I might disappoint God in some way if I admit that I'm having a hard time coping and healing, and even accepting this loss.

I've been filled with fears and insecurities and frustrations, and they have added up against me this week. My heart has felt so heavy all week... and I'm trying to re-learn the same lesson I learned almost ten years ago... that admitting it's hard and that I can't bear the burden of this trial on my own doesn't make God disappointed in me, but rather it opens up the way for Him to comfort me and strengthen me.

I have always appreciated James E. Talmage's insight on prayer: 

"It is well to know that prayer is not compounded of words, words that may fail to express what one desires to say, words that so often cloak inconsistencies, words that may have no deeper source than the physical organs of speech, words that may be spoken to impress mortal ears. The dumb may pray, and that too with the eloquence that prevails in heaven. Prayer is made up of heart throbs and the righteous yearnings of the soul, of supplication based on the realization of need, of contrition and pure desire. If there lives a man who has never really prayed, that man is a being apart from the order of the divine in human nature, a stranger in the family of God's children. Prayer is for the uplifting of the suppliant. God without our prayers would be God; but we without prayer cannot be admitted to the kingdom of God. So did Christ instruct: 'Your Father knoweth what things ye have need of, before ye ask him.'" (Jesus the Christ, pg. 238)

At a time like this when I can't make sense of the feelings in my heart, trying to express them in prayer can be a very overwhelming task... and that's why it brings me such great comfort to know that God already knows what I'm feeling. He already knows that I feel weighed down and discouraged, heart-broken and afraid. When I kneel in prayer, and emotions choke my words, I know He hears my silent pleadings and understands my hidden sorrow. And, I'm so grateful that He is so generous in reassuring me that He is not disappointed in me, but that He loves me with the perfect love of a Father. Not only do I find relief in my honest prayerful moments, I sense there is also a feeling of relief on His end when I fully open my heart to Him.

"Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered." - Romans 8:26

Prayers for Amy

I've been having so many thoughts running through my mind, so many things I need to write out. But, every time I sit down to write the only thing that comes to my mind is my blogging friend Amy. She lost her unborn baby boy on Monday. Hearing her sad news has made my own wounds feel fresh and new again... my heart aches for the loss she is experiencing. 

Please keep her and her family in your prayers. I know that the prayers offered on our behalf have carried us through our darkest moments... and I know they will carry Amy and her family.

"I have heard thy prayer, I have seen thy tears: behold, I will heal thee."

- 2 Kings 20:5

Local Cloud Cover

*Image credit: wikimedia.org

After getting through the first month of grieving, I sort of assumed the worst of the grief was behind us... and I guess in some aspects it was. We made it through our good-byes in the hospital, we made it through picking out a casket, we made it through buying a plot at the cemetery, we made it through the Memorial and Graveside services, we made it through the absense of our family members after everything was over. Those first weeks were definitely filled with some difficult tasks.

I guess what I didn't account for was making it through some of the days ahead when there would be less numbness and when reality would haunt me with its starkness. I shouldn't have been surprised when I had some recent days of completely overwhelming grief, which came with a heaviness that I never would have imagined. 

I usually don't talk much about those moments, but I have them. I allow myself to go through them. I try to go through them in a healthy way. I try to come out of those moments with something more than what I had going into them. More strength, more faith, more assurance of God's power to rescue. 

I don't know if my pleadings have gotten more sincere, or maybe heaven already knows how desperately I need help right now... whatever the cause, the result has been unmistakable. Heaven answers immediately. The pain doesn't leave, but at least there is a strong sense of being surrounded by unseen arms who are anxious to comfort me.

In those darkest of my "midnight moments" I have felt a love and calm so strong it could only come from heaven. I really appreciate those moments of calm because they remind me that the storm is temporary. I may have a few stormy days here and there, and while they seem like they'll never end or I'll never make it through, there always has been an end (or at least a break, long enough to catch my breath) and I've always made it through. 

Lately I've found a lot of comfort in the words of Neal A. Maxwell, having experienced his own terrible suffering and pain from leukemia. I appreciate this reminder from him:

“I share with you again a simple little insight that may help you at certain junctures in your lives. It is that you must not mistake passing local cloud cover for general darkness. They are very different things, and for us to misinterpret local cloud cover, which will soon be blown away, as general darkness is a terrible thing. The restored gospel is so full metaphorically of light. We must not be mistaken about this.”

I feel so grateful for the perspective of the low moments of grief just being "local cloud cover." As much as those moments aren't fun, they really are "just a small moment." Plus, because of the light of the gospel, this experience has allowed us to experience things that have deepened our understanding and given us a clearer glimpse of the love and sacrifice of the Savior. With that glimpse comes a much deeper gratitude for His many gifts and blessings. There are so many ways our life has been abundantly blessed, even while in the midst of this experience... it just becomes a matter of remembering and being aware of the blessings....

Walking with Sorrow

While I'm still trying to find my own words to express some portion of what I'm feeling, I thought I'd share some of these words, expressed by others much more eloquently than what I could say. We also wanted to thank all of you for your thoughts and prayers for us... we have never felt such a tangible strength from prayers offered for us. They have carried us through the events of the last week and our hearts have been deeply touched by the kindness and love extended to us. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Some thoughts on the purposes of sorrow and pain:

Robert Browning Hamilton wrote: 

I walked a mile with Pleasure. 
She chattered all the way, 
But left me none the wiser 
For all she had to say. 
I walked a mile with sorrow, 
And ne'er a word said she; 
But oh, the things I learned from her 
When sorrow walked with me!! 

In the book "Faith Precedes the Miracle", it reads: 

"Being human, we would expel from our lives physical pain and mental anguish and assure ourselves of continual ease and comfort, but if we were to close the doors upon sorrow and distress, we might be excluding our greatest friends and benefactors. Suffering can make saints of people as they learn patience, long-suffering, and self-mastery." 

Quoted by Spencer W. Kimball, Faith Precedes the Miracle, p. 99:

Pain stayed so long I said to him today,
"I will not have you with me anymore."
I stamped my foot and said, " Be on your way,"
And paused there startled at the look he wore.
"I, who have been your friend," he said to me,
"I, who have been your teacher -- all you know
Of understanding love, of sympathy,
And patience, I have taught you. Shall I go?" 
He spoke the truth, this strange unwelcome guest;
I watched him leave, and knew that he was wise.
He left a heart grown tender in my breast.
He left a far, clear vision in my eyes.
I dried my tears, and lifted up a song --
Even for one who'd tortured me so long. 

-Anonymous

Angels to Beckon Me...

Thank you doesn't seem adequate to express how grateful we feel for the prayers, the thoughts, and the warm wishes we've benefitted from in the last few days. Please know how much we have been lifted and strengthened by your love and support. We feel strengthened and hopeful because of those thoughts and prayers for us. Thank you so much. 

My parents are on their mission right now in Australia. Even with an expansive ocean dividing us, I am grateful to have felt their closeness and love through all of this. The other day my Dad reminded me of a phrase from one of my favorite Church hymns, which now means even more to me: 

There let the way appear, steps unto heav'n;

All that Thou sendest me, in mercy giv'n;

Angels to beckon me Nearer, my God, to Thee,

Nearer, my God, to Thee, Nearer to Thee.

This, we feel, is a very simple message of the purpose of our daughters' brief moments on earth. They, our angels, are now back with Heavenly Father, beckoning us to make it there to be with them. In all our life we have never felt a stronger yearning for heaven, a more pure desire to be whole and clean, a more dedicated heart to all that's good and right. Their brief moments with us have changed our life more profoundly than any other experience or combination of experiences we've ever had. But, all those past experiences have had their purpose in serving as a foundation of faith, making it easier to accept all that's happened in the last week. They've been our reservoir of faith and testimony.

We love our little girls so dearly. They have taught us so much, and we know we will still have many things to learn from them in the coming years. How grateful we feel for the blessing of having them in our family.

God Be With Our Angels

We never thought we'd be in this position. 

As you know, the last couple of weeks have held many ups and downs for us and our little girls, Elliana and Emmaline. Through it all we have been blessed by the prayers and love we've felt from all of you. We felt very sure that whatever challenges came with this pregnancy that we would make it through to the end with our little girls. 

This week's challenge was discovering that the surgery to fix the Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome that appeared to go well last week actually had some complications in the form of a serious uterine infection. On Tuesday that infection caused one of the membrane sacs to break, sending us in a panic back to UCSF that night. As we waited all morning Wednesday, praying and hoping for a positive outcome, Megan developed a fever accompanied by other signs, indicating the seriousness of the infection, making immediate delivery our only option.

Elliana was born at 8pm on Wednesday, July 16th. Her sister, Emmaline, was born at 8:10pm. They were 20 weeks 1 day. Elliana lived for about an hour, and Emmaline was considered stillborn. They both measured exactly the same - 9.5 inches long and 9.25 ounces. We had some very tender and precious moments with both our beautiful little girls immediately after birth and throughout the night. There are no words to describe the deep love and bond we felt with those brave little spirits in our presence. We felt a sweet assurance that they are ours forever and that our chance to raise them has not been taken away, but only delayed for a little while. We look forward with great anticipation to the day when we will meet them again and fulfill all our dreams of raising them and loving them the way we hoped to in the coming weeks and years.

While we are definitely aching and mourning our loss, we have also experienced sweet comfort and peace. Thank you for your continued prayers for our family. They bring us strength and hope in quiet moments of need.

We are planning a memorial service for Thursday, July 24th at 9:00am at our local LDS Church.

All our love and gratitude,
Marc, Megan, Elliana & Emmaline

More good news...

Well, we wanted to share the latest news with you all... Megan was discharged from the hospital this afternoon. We knew it was a possibility, but it still came as quite a surprise. We had an ultrasound this morning, which confirmed that the babies were responding well to the surgery. Dr. Lee even changed his initial feeling of "95%" and said, after seeing the results from the ultrasound, he felt much better about the outcome. The fluid levels looked much better, both babies' bladders were visible, their heartbeats were strong and healthy, and they were both moving around quite a bit. Megan is doing well, too. She is still a little sore from the surgery, but after being hooked up to about 10 different machines and monitored for the last 24 hours, the doctors and nurses were really happy with how stable all her vitals were. 

While we are very grateful for this initial good news, we have been warned that there are still some hurdles to overcome and only time will tell how successful it really was. We will continue to come down to UCSF for follow-up appointments for a few weeks. Our hope is that at those visits the girls will continue to show signs of improvement and health, which will confirm these intial feelings of success. But, we definitely have reason to be happy and hopeful!

We can't thank you all enough for the warm thoughts and prayers that we've felt carrying us through this. We know all those prayers have been heard and answered, and we are more grateful than words can express.

All our love and gratitude,

Marc & Megan, and Elliana & Emmaline

Request for prayers

Yesterday was one of the longest days of our life. We had our appointments down at UCSF starting at 8am and leaving our last one after 4pm. We met with a number of different doctors, specialists, and surgeons. We went down there hoping they would send us away with a confusion of why we were even referred there in the first place. But, it turns out our situation is much more serious than we thought.

It was confirmed through an ultrasound and an echocardiogram that the Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome had progressed to a Stage 3, which probably doesn't hold a lot of meaning for most of you. But, basically it's the most serious the syndrome can get while still having good chances of the babies surviving it with laser surgery. Had we waited any longer, it probably would have been too late to do anything.

To give a few more specifics, our donor baby (the one with less fluid) is starting to show signs of stress in her kidneys, and her bladder isn't visible at all (meaning she isn't getting the nourishment she needs). Our recipient baby (the one with more fluid) is having to work over-time to process all the additional fluid, causing additional stress on her heart. She is the one that the doctors are more concerned about right now.

Fortunately there is a laser surgery that is now available to try to correct the problem in the babies' placenta. The surgery has only been in existence for about 20 years and is only performed at a handful of hospitals, UCSF being one of them. The surgery is pretty straight-forward, though with obvious risks involved, just like any surgery. They will go into my abdomen with a small laser instrument about the size of a drinking straw and with the help of an ultrasound they will identify the blood vessels in the shared placenta that are causing the discordance in blood flow between the two babies. Using the laser, they will cut off those blood vessels, leaving the babies with vessels that flow equally between them.

So, we will drive back down to UCSF tonight. They will check me in around 8pm and get me all prepped so that they can perform the surgery first thing Thursday morning. My actual time slot isn't until 1pm, but they are hoping to get to me much earlier than that. The surgery itself will be performed by Dr. Lee and should last an hour or so, after which they will monitor me and the babies really closely in the hospital. Friday morning they will do another ultrasound to see how things are going. Depending on what they learn from that, I'll either be discharged Friday afternoon or Saturday sometime.

While we have our concerns about going through with the surgery, we feel like the risks are much less scary than just sitting back and waiting to see what happens. Plus, the fact that our babies both continue to grow at the same rate, even with the present problem, is a really good sign. My placenta is also in a posterior position, which makes the surgery a little easier to perform. So, yes, we have our fears... BUT, we are also still very hopeful.

And, we are so grateful. We have been overwhelmed with so much love and support. We have felt strength in the midst of this storm that is not coming from our own reserve. We are being blessed with the strength and the courage that we lack, and know that comes as a result of the Savior's atonement. We are grateful to have each other, to have the perspective of the gospel, to have the most incredible family and friends who have stayed by our sides through all that we've faced.

Oh, and for the last few weeks we have been doing lots of talking about names for our little girls. We had initially planned on keeping that information to ourselves until they were born, but have decided now is a good time to share. Besides liking the names, we also found the meanings behind their names to be very fitting.

Baby A (our donor twin) is Elliana. It's a hebrew name, meaning "God has answered." She is one part of a double blessing in answer to years of pleading and prayer to start our family.

Baby B (our recipient twin) is Emmaline. I don't remember the origin, but it means "work." She is our little worker, doing double-time to keep them both alive.

We love our little girls so much! They are already teaching us so much about love, about courage, about the will to survive. They are our little fighters... and we are ready to fight with them. In the meantime, please know how deeply grateful we feel for the prayers being offered for us and our little girls. 

Trusting instincts

I feel like I've been getting my first lessons in trusting my motherly instincts, which has been scary and thrilling all at the same time.

When we first found out we were expecting twins, we didn't know how much differently a multiple pregnancy should be treated. Our plan was to continue seeing my regular OBGYN and deliver at our local hospital, in "Small Town" California. Well, after being referred to a perinatologist for our genetic testing, we started to get this feeling that we were in much better hands with her than we were with my regular doctor. Nothing huge, just little differences here and there that really left an impact on us. Our referral to the perinatologist was only meant to be for two visits, after which it was intended that I would continue all my regular visits here in Small Town.

Let me just say: Knowledge really is power.

The more we've learned about our twin pregnancy, the more we've found my doctor and her staff in Small Town to not know nearly enough about mono-di twins. I'm sure they know a heckuvalot more about other things than us, but I would say that our research, in addition to our instincts, have given us a lot to help guide us in different ways than what they've suggested.

This past week we were presented with a few dilemmas that had me worried and stressed. We had our Small Town OBGYN telling us things, and even making decisions for us, that went against everything we were feeling. By nature, I'm not the type to be aggressive and demanding. I like to keep the peace and be flexible to make everyone happy. I was conflicted... do I just go with what this "professional" is telling me? Or do I go against her judgment and forge a new pathway?

In the middle of all this worry and stress, I talked to my parents and other family members who encouraged me to follow through with whatever I felt was right for our babies. Not knowing where to begin, I offered a simple prayer pleading to be guided to the right people that could help point us in the right direction. I knew there were people who had experiences that could help me, but I needed help knowing who. I felt calm, knowing that somehow we would, in fact, be guided.

Well, I spent much of the rest of the day making some phone calls and doing some more research to figure out what I felt was best for me and our babies. I called a close friend, whose husband is a doctor, and with her help I decided the best place to start was finding a hospital where I'd want to deliver. Our top priority for that was that the hospital have a Level 3 NICU. We found one an hour away, and even though we knew nothing else about it for sure, we decided it was definitely better than the Level 1 NICU in Small Town.

As soon as we had decided on the hospital, I suddenly remembered, "Oh yeah, Brother So-and-So works at that hospital... I should call his wife and get some doctor recommendations." Well, I didn't have her number, so I called her sister-in-law. As I explained why I needed the number, the sister-in-law proceeded to tell me about their experience with baby #4 at the NICU in this particular hospital and how incredible their experience was with the hospital and its staff. Huge sigh of relief... I felt a confirmation that we had found the right hospital.

Then, I called this friend, to get some recommendations of good doctors at the hospital. Since I'm already about half way through this pregnancy, I really don't have a lot of time to try out different doctors. I'd rather find one and get settled with him/her without having to waste anymore time starting from the beginning over and over. During our conversation, I had more and more confirmations that we were going in the right direction. She was able to give me the names of two doctors at the hospital where we want to deliver, who come highly recommended based on their experience with delivering multiples. I already have an appointment set up with her first recommendation next Tuesday.

In addition to these two people, who were clearly answers to my simple prayer, I also connected with three other new mothers of mono-di twins, who have shared details of their experience with me that have made it even more clear that we've made the right choice to move in this direction. Such relief!!

This pregnancy means so much to us... we want to avoid as many potential problems and risks as we can. There are already enough factors that we can't control, that when it comes to things we can control we're going to do everything in our power to make sure that our babies are in the best hands possible.

I'm just so grateful that we aren't alone in figuring this out. I know that our prayer, in that moment of need, was heard and answered by a loving Father. I'm grateful for the people that He guided us to that have been such a huge help for us in making these big decisions, and then giving us those peaceful feelings that we've not been blindly making our own pathway, but that He was guiding us all along.

There is a verse in 1 Nephi that has come to mean a lot to me through the last five years, and I was reminded of it again with this latest experience: And I will also be your light in the wilderness; and I will prepare the way before you, if it so be that ye shall keep my commandments; wherefore, inasmuch as ye shall keep my commandments ye shall be led towards the promised land; and ye shall know that it is by me that ye are led.