tummy time

I have only been a parent for a very short while, but even in that short while I have begun to understand more clearly the concept of God, as a "Father".

The girls had only been home from the hospital about a month. I was trying to do all of the things I had been told to do, to encourage their growth and development. One of the things they needed to do most to help get them up to speed was "tummy time". The doctors had told me that they wanted them to have ten to fifteen minutes of tummy time three times a day to improve their strength. Because they were premies, it is even more important, because they are starting out behind for their age (although appropriate for their gestation). In the beginning, they could barely pick their heads up off the ground. Eventually tummy time will strengthen their neck muscles, as well as their arm and leg muscles… so that they will eventually learn to crawl and walk. They HATE HATE HATE tummy time.

One particular day I had laid the girls down on their playmates for their 15 minutes. It is getting better, but usually they fuss and cry during the majority of the tummy time session. I hate hearing them cry, but I know how important it is for them to do this exercise. I sit and watch them… even though I could jump to their rescue. Sometimes I have to stand a little distance so that I do not run to their rescue. Most of the time, however, I stand or sit very close…watching…hoping they can pacify themselves, but ready to scoop them up when they need me most… when I know they have taken all they can take. One day, when sitting, watching, even hurting for them, yet knowing that it was for their best, I was reminded of God. He sees our pain…he sees our trials, and although He could rescue us, He often does not. Yet does that mean He is far off? Or is it that He sits closer than even the good and easy times? In the same way that I know that their "suffering" during tummy time is actually what is going to allow them to grow strong… so that they can someday walk and have a wonderful (much more enjoyable) life than they currently have, He sees that even in our trials, we are being stripped of the bad in our lives, and IF WE ALLOW it, we can emerge out of the times stronger than we ever knew we could be. 

God is not far off. I bet if you could see Him, you could see that like me, our Father sits close, watching, occasionally offering a pacifier to help us get through our "tummy time", and ready to scoop us up if we are ever truly in danger…or when we have had more than we can bare. 

I hope that I can learn to be thankful for the "tummy times" of my life. I hope that I can realize that it is those times that will teach me to crawl…and then to one day stand...

Van's bad dream

Van's bad dream that I want to remember forever:

This morning Van rolled over and said groggily but convincingly, "ohhh I just had the WORST dream."

The way he said it, I assumed he had dreamed about sharks or something else really awful. I asked him what it was and he said:

"I dreamed that it was back when we were dating… we weren't married, and we had given up our relationship, but we had remained friends. We were at a mutual friends' wedding, both with other people… and both engaged to these other people. I asked you to dance, and while we were dancing, I kept thinking, "I should have married HER!  Then I woke up and was so relieved that I had, and that the dream was not my reality!"

I am so fortunate to have a husband who loves, cherishes, and values me the way he does. So glad I didn't mess it all when we were dating (as I many times tried to push him away…)

NICU days

Monday June 9^th, 2014

I feel like I woke up two weeks and two days ago on a Saturday and that since that time two years has passed. Today I would have been 32 weeks pregnant. I would have taken a picture of my ever growing twin belly for my weekly belly journey documentation. I would have been stiff, achy, swollen, and quite miserable, but I wouldn’t be driving to the hospital in about an hour for the second time today, and for what seems like the millionth time in the past two weeks. I would have been much less tired, but I wouldn’t yet know that my sweet Annika and Elliana would be dark haired little beauties, or what their little toes and noses look like. It’s a bittersweet experience, this whole NICU – premie thing. I have grieved the too soon end of my pregnancy. I have grieved that I cannot feel their little kicks inside of me, but rather I must leave them in in a hospital isolette multiple times a day… that I only get to hold them a few hours of the 24 that they’re on my mind and in my prayers… yet despite the grief, I have experienced the tenderness and love of something so small and helpless, and I know that I am already a better person because of them.

I journaled the details of my delivery in a straight forward kind of way right after the delivery, just so that I could remember it in the future. (Not that I can believe that I will ever forget the trauma of it completely.) That particular entry is not something that would be all that enjoyable to read (too long, detailed, and maybe even boring). So to sum it up and keep it short, I’ll just say that the day I went into premature labor (May 24^th) at 29 5/7 weeks was a day that was full of shock. I never anticipated it. Never dreamed that it could or would happen to me. And even as I was in the OR, fully dilated, without an epidural and trying to push Annika out, knowing that I would then receive a c-section for Elliana, in my mind, I was thinking, “THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING!” It felt like such a bad and impossible nightmare.

In some ways, the days that followed the delivery are still a blurry haze. Some of the blur is likely due to the fact that I received a general anesthetic for my delivery… but some of it is because I was running on adrenaline and no sleep. Amazingly I have only cried four times that I can think of. Not that I am bragging about this… just simply stating that I have been too busy to cry. There is no time to cry or worry because I must pump and hold them and do whatever I can to be strong, so that they will be strong.

Everyday of these first weeks has been filled with thoughts on when they could be taken off of CPAP, and then when they could come off of their nasal cannulas; when Annika could get off of her phototherapy for jaundice; what their weights were; when they would be weaned from their TPN and receive only nutrition from their OG tubes; when Annika would get her umbilical vein IV out so that I could hold her… and now two weeks after their birth, we’ve moved past all of those worries and thoughts and I find new things to think and worry about: like if they are still gaining weight (they weighed their birth weights again on Thursday the 5^th! and went past it on Friday!); how will we succeed with breast feeding; when will they stop dropping their oxygen sats; when can we bring them home…

But like I learned when going through anesthesia school – you take a huge, daunting task and deal with it one day at a time. And then one day, without even realizing it, you have managed to survive the daunting task, and you realize you were stronger than you ever realized you could be. In my case it’s not that I am so strong, but that God is making me strong…

This past Friday (the sixth), I was reading my devotion for the day. The verse on the page beside it (for the seventh) caught my attention, as it was a verse that I had mediated on for months during my “break” from fertility treatments. I opened up my Bible to re-read it (Lamentations 3: 19-33).

On July 11^th of 2013 I had written in the margins, of my Bible, “this verse (25-27) and chapter in general has been one that I have been meditating on for the last month or two… learning to have “passionate patience”. As I re-read the chapter, thoughts of what had lead me to this verse came flooding back. Thoughts of fear, pain, and anxiety… I remembered that I had been dealing with such anxiety that I felt that I could not be restful. That I could not be silent. I felt ALL THE TIME that I had just drank three times the amount of coffee I should be allowed.

As a result of the anxiety I had been feeling, I had decided to take a break from fertility treatments and I had begun to seek out “rest”, as I mediated on Matthew 11:28 (“come to me all you who are weary…and I will give you a “real” rest…” message translation uses “real” rest – which I loved)… and it was then during the introspective times of my “rest” period that I had found this other verse in Lamentations that talked about learning to have “passionate patience”… another concept that I began to meditate on, as well as seek to achieve in my life. Almost a year later, having had my fears of infertility dissipate, I couldn’t help but feel in awe of how much God had taught me about trust, patience, and resting in Him during that season of my life. And without even realizing it, the lessons I had learned then have been what have sustained and strengthened me during this crazy, chaotic, overwhelming NICU time. It occurred to me as I was remembering all of this that this entire time since their birth, despite the chaos, high intensity, and high stress of our lives, I have KNOWN rest, peace, and trust. And this rest and peace has been possible only because I first experienced two years of painful growth.

How much harder and more exhausting would it have been to have jumped in feet first into the NICU experience, not knowing how to rest and trust? How much easier it was to learn it when two little lives that I love weren’t at stake! I found myself grateful to the point of tears that my pain had purged my heart enough that I would be ready to be my best for them… grateful for the painful growth. Sometimes we never understand why… and then sometimes we do.  This week I understand at least some of the why’s of then, and maybe someday I’ll understand the why’s of now. But one thing I am confident of: there is a why, and whether I understand it or not, I will trust that He is in control.

it's been a while

Gosh, I must be the worst blogger ever. For one, my blog is halfway a secret, as I don't really let it be known that I blog… which kind of defeats the point of blogging. And two, I haven't blogged on my "semi-secret" blog in over four months. Whoops.

Well, all I can say is that is what pregnancy does to ya… makes you feel like you'll never have energy to do anything again. That just typing on a keyboard is too much.

The last time I blogged, I was just about to start the IVF process. Fast forward a few months, and I am pregnant with twins. Apparently both of the little embryos I was implanted with took, and in a short while (come July!) we will have twin girls.

Every now and then I think clearly or maybe the description is "in detail" about what I think this means… about what this means as far as changes in my life go, and I feel very nauseous. I'm super excited… until I think too much. And then I'm just freaked out. Which I know sounds bizarre since I actively pursued becoming pregnant with fertility help… but what can I say. I'm complicated.

On a random note, just as we were getting started with the IVF process, I came across this ornament (I am a collector of ornaments that have significance to my life), and I bought it "in faith" so to speak. If you understand the meaning behind the name of this blog "the pressed olive" then you will understand why I had to buy this ornament too…

I just wish (now that I know) that I could have found one of Olive Oyl holding TWO babies. :) 

So now that I've got the whole, "I'm pregnant" announcement out of the way, I'm going to try to do better about blogging about more interesting topics. Usually I think I don't have opinions strong enough or interesting enough to blog (and thus I forget to do so), but I enjoy writing things - even if it's for my own personal growth… 

So here's two a second trimester energy boost - where I will do my best to blog more than once every four months. :)