How could you not love a God who has a crazy sense of humor, and a creative talent for grabbing your attention?
This morning started differently than other mornings. First of all, it’s trash and recycling day, which for some reason always makes me anxious. I just want to make sure Brent takes everything to the curb so I don’t have to. I had a bad experience once, where the garbage can rolled away from me….I slid…..I’m pretty much scarred for life. My tailbone hurts just thinking about it. Along with that, though, Brent woke up super early to attend the Bible study that meets at 6:30 on Wednesday mornings. This 1) makes me so proud and honored to have married such a God-fearing husband and 2) means I am flying solo in getting myself and Haley ready for the day.
I sauntered out to the kitchen at about 6:30 after finally rolling out of bed. I’ve been called a lot of things and “morning person” has never been one of them. It takes me about three hours to wake up, and that’s only after I’ve had the required 10 hours of sleep. It makes for some interesting days. I walked over to the coffee pot and noticed the clock wasn’t greeting me with the time.
Hmmm. I blinked, because surely it was just the fact I'm nearly blind without my glasses that I couldn't see the clock. Blinking didn't fix it.
I pushed a few buttons. Nothing. I pushed different buttons, and harder. It was plugged in – I unplugged and replugged. Nothing.
No. Oh man, no coffee?! Oh man…
I stood, dazed, and in slow motion reached behind me to open the fridge. Please don’t let this be what I think it is. Please don’t let this be what I think it is. Please don’t let this be what I think it is. I opened the fridge door – and – no light. Nothing. Our outlets on this one circuit of our kitchen decided to take the day off. I know Brent had been in the fridge, and the air was still cool, so this is something that had to have happened within the previous thirty minutes.
I tried to gather my thoughts and figure out the best way to fix the situation. First I texted my husband what was going on and ended with "I don't know what to do." Those are always the most encouraging "Good morning!" texts you can send your spouse. You heard it here first.
I then went down to the basement and checked our circuit breakers. Every one of them was in-tact. I decided they obviously must NOT be in-tact, and I should reset the kitchen ones just to be sure. Still no working fridge. Still no brewing coffee. I pushed the reset button – several times – on the outlet the coffee maker plugs in to. Nothing. I did the only logical thing left to do at that point. I pulled the fridge out from the wall and moved it to the opposite side of the kitchen. By myself. I crawled over the table, I crawled under the table, I lifted chairs out of the way, I played Superwoman, and I played her well. I didn’t have time to mess with the situation, and I needed to plug the fridge in to an outlet that worked so we wouldn’t lose all of our perishable items, and so the items that have already perished, could stay chilled and not stink up my kitchen. Not saying I have things like that in my fridge.....but it's always a possibility.
I went about getting ready for work and getting Haley ready for the sitter. I texted my dad a photo of the fridge in it’s temporary new home and he was of course texting me with fatherly instructions to check the breaker box and reset the GFI outlet. I love that I thought to do those things first. I don’t love that after knowing me for 30 years, Dad doesn’t think he taught me well enough to think to do those things first.
I was able to get myself together and get a few snuggles in before heading out the door. I dropped Haley off at the sitter’s and made it on time to my work meeting this morning. Just another day at the office.
I went home at lunch and looked at the empty spot where the fridge normally is. The paint is scorched on the wall, so we obviously have it too close to the back wall. I glanced down at the floor, and quickly wished I hadn’t. The floor. Was. Disgusting. Dust, dirt, hair, food, filth. I grabbed the broom, the Swiffer, and the bottle of Whistle and got to work. Once I had the area cleaned up, I went back to the GFI outlet and pushed the reset button again – to test my (in)sanity.
Power. The coffee maker clock started blinking. And you wouldn’t work for me earlier when I did this, because…..?
“Because you needed to clean your kitchen floor, dust off your refrigerator, and take care of the potential hazard. Plus, I wanted you to check in with me for some energy instead of your coffee cup.”
Oh! Well! Of course!
I don’t know how often you’re supposed to dust underneath, behind, and around your refrigerator, but after today, I’m almost positive you’re supposed to do it more often than never. Lesson learned.
I also found it interesting - and humorous - how dependent I am on a few appliances. The fridge, yeah, that's a given. But my beloved coffee pot. I love it, because it gives me warmth and comfort with which to start my day. But you know what else could fill that need on a deeper level? Starting my day in the arms of my Maker, and in the pages of His love letter to me. Lesson learned.
I believe God tests us and I believe today was a test of how I handle myself when things feel out of my control. I'm not sure I passed with flying colors (Brent pointed out we have extension cords...yeah, well, they don't make for upper body strength testing, sweetheart....) but I appreciate I was able to not stress out about the situation, and handle it with the humored spirit that enveloped me today.
Plus, I found a coupon for a free appetizer at LoneStar Steakhouse. Too bad it expired in July of 2009....
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Febru-ailing
What a month this has been! We have had key positions leave our department (read: people quit) which has more or less tripled my workload and squared-infinity my insanity levels. I always appreciate intellectual challenges but not all at once, and not involving things that actually matter. (read: other people's livelihood)
(read: I like to do this "read:" thing.)
The month began with Haley reaching a few more milestones - crawling on her hands and knees rather than army crawling around. Moving from crawling to sitting with grace and poise. Pulling herself up to stand on anything and everything. Finally drinking water and not pursing her lips. She sat in a highchair at a restaurant for the first time, and now - she is sprouting her first tooth. Lord have mercy. The fever. The coughing. The congestion. The moodiness. The absolute "visible miserable" she has to endure. It's heartbreaking! You can barely see the tooth, and if you don't know what you're looking for, you'll definitely miss it. She sleeps all the time, cries all the time - over nothing and everything all at once - only wants to eat on her terms, and stuff that isn't as good for her as what mommy wants to feed her.....she is 11 months old (tomorrow!) going on 14. She cries when she's not getting enough attention, then cries harder when you give her attention because it's not the right attention, then cries even harder when you stop giving her attention after she scolded you for how you were giving her attention. Even I can't figure this out, and I have first-hand experience with over-the-top-emoting.
I feel so bad for her - we're doing what we can with Tylenol, Orajel, and TLC. One tooth in the works - 31 more to go. Brent and I are passing a cold back and forth - since Christmas, I believe. It seems we can't get it out of our system. It's the gift that keeps on giving. We're both tired of it, and just want it to go away. Stocking up on Airborne and multi-vitamins hasn't done the trick yet, but I imagine the end is in sight for this little cold. Please.
Brent and I had a fantastic Valentine's day. We've been together 10 years and have learned to celebrate every day instead of only once a year. (Insert cheese-o-meter here.) We did take some time out to pamper ourselves, though, and I treated Brent to his first-ever pedicure. Afterwards I asked him what he thought. "I wouldn't mind having another one. *dramatic pause* Weekly." Score! We wanted to enjoy a dinner of Red Lobster cheese biscuits with a side of crab legs and lobster tails for the special evening, but since they don't take reservations or call-ahead seating, and since we wanted to eat before 10 p.m., we ordered to go. I have to say, those biscuits make any occasion special. God bless the garlic cheese combination. And crab legs in butter. Brent also surprised me with a generous gift certificate to my favorite nail salon and I have beautiful nails now. Nothing says "I Love You" like nailpolish.
I've spent the last few weekends making my own baby food. Not "my own" as in for me, but my own as in for Haley, avoiding purchasing any pre-made foods at the grocery store. (Save for prunes. Have to have those handy sometimes.) So far my favorite creation is the avocado creations. I love turning avocados in to baby food, because it gives me an excuse to make guacamole, which is the greatest condiment on the face of the planet. My favorite creation thus far is the Jersey Sweet Potatoes/Banana combination. Add a Nilla Wafer, and it's like healthy banana pudding.
The big news is we got rid of the Slowpaz - Brent's faithful car for the last 15 years. The best news of all - someone actually paid us money, instead of us having to pay someone to take it off our hands. Hallelujah! We bought a Buick Terrazza that we've had problem after problem with, but after removing the astrostart *tear* it seems to be running smoothly. Now we have a minivan that tries not to look like a minivan, but has all the convenience of one, and we're okay with that.
Now begins the planning stages for our little one's first birthday next month. I can't believe it's been a year since that scary weekend in the hospital. Brent and I will soon be shopping for her special gift, and sending out invitations to her low-key, but still very special, celebration.
Party America, I'm coming to browse your aisles!
(read: I like to do this "read:" thing.)
The month began with Haley reaching a few more milestones - crawling on her hands and knees rather than army crawling around. Moving from crawling to sitting with grace and poise. Pulling herself up to stand on anything and everything. Finally drinking water and not pursing her lips. She sat in a highchair at a restaurant for the first time, and now - she is sprouting her first tooth. Lord have mercy. The fever. The coughing. The congestion. The moodiness. The absolute "visible miserable" she has to endure. It's heartbreaking! You can barely see the tooth, and if you don't know what you're looking for, you'll definitely miss it. She sleeps all the time, cries all the time - over nothing and everything all at once - only wants to eat on her terms, and stuff that isn't as good for her as what mommy wants to feed her.....she is 11 months old (tomorrow!) going on 14. She cries when she's not getting enough attention, then cries harder when you give her attention because it's not the right attention, then cries even harder when you stop giving her attention after she scolded you for how you were giving her attention. Even I can't figure this out, and I have first-hand experience with over-the-top-emoting.
I feel so bad for her - we're doing what we can with Tylenol, Orajel, and TLC. One tooth in the works - 31 more to go. Brent and I are passing a cold back and forth - since Christmas, I believe. It seems we can't get it out of our system. It's the gift that keeps on giving. We're both tired of it, and just want it to go away. Stocking up on Airborne and multi-vitamins hasn't done the trick yet, but I imagine the end is in sight for this little cold. Please.
Brent and I had a fantastic Valentine's day. We've been together 10 years and have learned to celebrate every day instead of only once a year. (Insert cheese-o-meter here.) We did take some time out to pamper ourselves, though, and I treated Brent to his first-ever pedicure. Afterwards I asked him what he thought. "I wouldn't mind having another one. *dramatic pause* Weekly." Score! We wanted to enjoy a dinner of Red Lobster cheese biscuits with a side of crab legs and lobster tails for the special evening, but since they don't take reservations or call-ahead seating, and since we wanted to eat before 10 p.m., we ordered to go. I have to say, those biscuits make any occasion special. God bless the garlic cheese combination. And crab legs in butter. Brent also surprised me with a generous gift certificate to my favorite nail salon and I have beautiful nails now. Nothing says "I Love You" like nailpolish.
I've spent the last few weekends making my own baby food. Not "my own" as in for me, but my own as in for Haley, avoiding purchasing any pre-made foods at the grocery store. (Save for prunes. Have to have those handy sometimes.) So far my favorite creation is the avocado creations. I love turning avocados in to baby food, because it gives me an excuse to make guacamole, which is the greatest condiment on the face of the planet. My favorite creation thus far is the Jersey Sweet Potatoes/Banana combination. Add a Nilla Wafer, and it's like healthy banana pudding.
The big news is we got rid of the Slowpaz - Brent's faithful car for the last 15 years. The best news of all - someone actually paid us money, instead of us having to pay someone to take it off our hands. Hallelujah! We bought a Buick Terrazza that we've had problem after problem with, but after removing the astrostart *tear* it seems to be running smoothly. Now we have a minivan that tries not to look like a minivan, but has all the convenience of one, and we're okay with that.
Now begins the planning stages for our little one's first birthday next month. I can't believe it's been a year since that scary weekend in the hospital. Brent and I will soon be shopping for her special gift, and sending out invitations to her low-key, but still very special, celebration.
Party America, I'm coming to browse your aisles!
Friday, January 21, 2011
Reflecting...
It was one of the worst nights in the NICU. Brent and I had both gone to give Haley her bath, as we had done every night. Afterwards, I gave her kangaroo care (skin-to-skin contact) to warm her up. The nurse slipped her inside my shirt, and she snuggled right into my chest - her tiny, frail frame against me and her bony knees bent in between us. Her petite fingers tickled my collarbone - her entire hand wasn't any bigger than the nub of bone at the base of my neck.
Two nurses we came to know and love had Haley as their charge. They sat with us and went over some "teaching". Teaching is a session where the nurses go over a list of items with you for things you need to watch for or be informed about: feedings, body temperature, breathing, bowel loops, heart murmurs, etc. While they were visiting with us, Haley's respiration sensor kept beeping. At one point, I moved her head to tilt it back a bit so she could get some air. She didn't like that and moved her head forward again. Finally, as the nurses were continuing to do their teaching, I started getting antsy and fidgeting around. The fact that her respiration alarm kept going off was bothering me. Her breathing was sporadic. I pulled her out of my shirt to swaddle her instead, and see if she could breathe better lying down than cuddled against me.
My daughter was blue.
The nurse gasped, I rubbed Haley's sternum, and Haley's color returned right away and she was breathing again. The nurse said, "Oh her head was probably like this" and she mimicked it being down - chin to chest - cutting off her little airway. I had tried to fix that. I held it together as I swaddled her and explained, stammered, that I had tried to fix it - that I wanted to put her in a different position to help her breathing.
They walked away for a bit and I got teary-eyed. Brent sat there next to me and assured me everything was okay, she was okay, it was all okay. But the tears started to fall. I sat there and stared at my daughter as she smiled in her sleep and the realization of how fragile she still was overwhelmed me.
More reluctantly than usual, I put her in her isolette to leave her for the night. The walk from her side to the car seemed painstakingly longer than I had been used to. The image of my daughter, blue, was frozen in my mind. My heart was deep in the very pit of my stomach. I was terrified. I was ridden with guilt. I was filled with doubt - of my own capabilities as a mother, and of what the road ahead would hold for our family.
The whole ride home I cried. I told Brent I had reached the "why me" stage. I was still supposed to be pregnant. We weren't supposed to have her two months premature. I shouldn't have had to leave my baby every night.
Once we got back to the house, I gathered myself together and started tidying up the bedroom. I let out an exasperated sigh as I asked Brent to tuck his sheet back into the foot of the bed. After he tucked it in, he stood up and wrapped his arms around me. I started to sob. He nestled his face in my shoulder and I just wept as he held me. I couldn't get the image of her blue face out of my mind. What would we have done if she wasn't hooked up to those monitors? How long would we have let her struggle to breathe? Kangaroo care was supposed to be the most beneficial, innocent way to bond with our preemie. She was supposed to be safe with her mommy.
I stopped crying, but didn't let go of Brent. I said a silent prayer, thanking God for my husband and for the fact that he was intuitive enough to know that was what I needed right then. I continued the silent prayer and asked God to protect our daughter and to never let anything like that happen again.
I didn't sleep all that great that night. Later in the afternoon the following day, I headed back to the hospital to spend some time with Haley. It was crowded in the NICU. Every parent, save for of one baby, was there. Haley's charge nurse was working on another baby but told me she would be right over. I reached in to the isolette and placed my hands on Haley - one on the crown of her head, and one cupping her feet. Her nurse came and asked if I wanted to do kangaroo care. I hesitated. Slowly, I began to nod. I had to sit in an office chair as all the rockers were occupied. She put Haley in my shirt. I checked the position of her head. I stared at that monitor displaying her heart rate, respiration, and O2 levels. For a solid hour and a half I stared at that monitor. I only looked away to give her a kiss or look down and check her breathing.
I was still rattled from the night before. She did fine.
Today, Haley is 10 months old. She speed-crawls laps around us. She feeds herself real foods. She babbles non-stop. She laughs when we play peek-a-boo. She doesn't fit inside my shirt anymore, and she doesn't cuddle nearly as whole-heartedly as she used to.
Ten months ago my life changed forever. I experienced things I never thought I would have to. I came to know just how deep, how wide, and how full God's love for us is. I almost lost my child - and that frightful night in the NICU, I thought I had endangered her life once again. God gave up His son for us on purpose. The heartache of watching your child suffer is inexplicable. Let alone to watch them die? I shudder at the unimaginable thought. Please, God, spare me from that pain. But He did that - for me. For Haley. For all of us.
That night in the NICU was treacherous for me, but the entire experience has taught me so much about prayer, grace, and His power. Life is hard. It throws us down and spins us in all sorts of directions - it beats us up and leaves us for dead. But there is life and freedom and forgiveness in God. He will carry us through the toughest of times, and He will sustain us through all of our "why me" moments. I have a 10-month-old miracle....and I praise God for the opportunities to share her story - His story.
Two nurses we came to know and love had Haley as their charge. They sat with us and went over some "teaching". Teaching is a session where the nurses go over a list of items with you for things you need to watch for or be informed about: feedings, body temperature, breathing, bowel loops, heart murmurs, etc. While they were visiting with us, Haley's respiration sensor kept beeping. At one point, I moved her head to tilt it back a bit so she could get some air. She didn't like that and moved her head forward again. Finally, as the nurses were continuing to do their teaching, I started getting antsy and fidgeting around. The fact that her respiration alarm kept going off was bothering me. Her breathing was sporadic. I pulled her out of my shirt to swaddle her instead, and see if she could breathe better lying down than cuddled against me.
My daughter was blue.
The nurse gasped, I rubbed Haley's sternum, and Haley's color returned right away and she was breathing again. The nurse said, "Oh her head was probably like this" and she mimicked it being down - chin to chest - cutting off her little airway. I had tried to fix that. I held it together as I swaddled her and explained, stammered, that I had tried to fix it - that I wanted to put her in a different position to help her breathing.
They walked away for a bit and I got teary-eyed. Brent sat there next to me and assured me everything was okay, she was okay, it was all okay. But the tears started to fall. I sat there and stared at my daughter as she smiled in her sleep and the realization of how fragile she still was overwhelmed me.
More reluctantly than usual, I put her in her isolette to leave her for the night. The walk from her side to the car seemed painstakingly longer than I had been used to. The image of my daughter, blue, was frozen in my mind. My heart was deep in the very pit of my stomach. I was terrified. I was ridden with guilt. I was filled with doubt - of my own capabilities as a mother, and of what the road ahead would hold for our family.
The whole ride home I cried. I told Brent I had reached the "why me" stage. I was still supposed to be pregnant. We weren't supposed to have her two months premature. I shouldn't have had to leave my baby every night.
Once we got back to the house, I gathered myself together and started tidying up the bedroom. I let out an exasperated sigh as I asked Brent to tuck his sheet back into the foot of the bed. After he tucked it in, he stood up and wrapped his arms around me. I started to sob. He nestled his face in my shoulder and I just wept as he held me. I couldn't get the image of her blue face out of my mind. What would we have done if she wasn't hooked up to those monitors? How long would we have let her struggle to breathe? Kangaroo care was supposed to be the most beneficial, innocent way to bond with our preemie. She was supposed to be safe with her mommy.
I stopped crying, but didn't let go of Brent. I said a silent prayer, thanking God for my husband and for the fact that he was intuitive enough to know that was what I needed right then. I continued the silent prayer and asked God to protect our daughter and to never let anything like that happen again.
I didn't sleep all that great that night. Later in the afternoon the following day, I headed back to the hospital to spend some time with Haley. It was crowded in the NICU. Every parent, save for of one baby, was there. Haley's charge nurse was working on another baby but told me she would be right over. I reached in to the isolette and placed my hands on Haley - one on the crown of her head, and one cupping her feet. Her nurse came and asked if I wanted to do kangaroo care. I hesitated. Slowly, I began to nod. I had to sit in an office chair as all the rockers were occupied. She put Haley in my shirt. I checked the position of her head. I stared at that monitor displaying her heart rate, respiration, and O2 levels. For a solid hour and a half I stared at that monitor. I only looked away to give her a kiss or look down and check her breathing.
I was still rattled from the night before. She did fine.
Today, Haley is 10 months old. She speed-crawls laps around us. She feeds herself real foods. She babbles non-stop. She laughs when we play peek-a-boo. She doesn't fit inside my shirt anymore, and she doesn't cuddle nearly as whole-heartedly as she used to.
Ten months ago my life changed forever. I experienced things I never thought I would have to. I came to know just how deep, how wide, and how full God's love for us is. I almost lost my child - and that frightful night in the NICU, I thought I had endangered her life once again. God gave up His son for us on purpose. The heartache of watching your child suffer is inexplicable. Let alone to watch them die? I shudder at the unimaginable thought. Please, God, spare me from that pain. But He did that - for me. For Haley. For all of us.
That night in the NICU was treacherous for me, but the entire experience has taught me so much about prayer, grace, and His power. Life is hard. It throws us down and spins us in all sorts of directions - it beats us up and leaves us for dead. But there is life and freedom and forgiveness in God. He will carry us through the toughest of times, and He will sustain us through all of our "why me" moments. I have a 10-month-old miracle....and I praise God for the opportunities to share her story - His story.
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