Under (re)construction

I have been planning something new for this blog. This week, was going to launch a whole new world on here… but life happened.

I cannot go into details, but our home has grown by two. Two very broken angels. SO this week, you may not hear from me…  but, it won’t be long before I am back… I can’t tell you the exact day… but I know it will be the day immeadiately following my first chance to sleep more than 4 hours a night and have a hot shower lasting more than 3 minutes.

For now, please pray for our home and for the two little angels we are trying our best to rebuild, even if they are here for just a little tiny bit.

Be vewwy vewwy Quiet….

God is our refuge and strength. An ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way… Psalm 46:1-2

I have been giving y’all the silent treatment this week for a reason. Three reasons actually.

1) I have on average 6,000 readers weekly. And 5 regularly commenting people. I have been worried about that… see, I read blogs that I rarely comment on, if ever, too. Mostly, because I feel that either I  have nothing of value to add OR I feel like I would be intruding. I’ve never been the cool girl …. in school or in life. In fact, the only person who thinks I am cool still wears pull-ups to bed. Please, if you read and want to say hi, do it. You will be welcomed and loved not just by me, but the other half dozen people who talk back to me on here. SO, unless my stats are lying to me, speak up.

2)  I have been cleaning like a crazy woman for our home visit… the first of the final three steps to complete our transfer to county. We passed the inspection, but I . can’t. stop. cleaning.  I think it may be a new PMS symptom? Or maybe the smell of pine o pine has finally gotten its way and made me an addict… the world may never know.

3) This one is important. Really important.

I just wanted to be quiet. Have a moment of silence, per se, for the people affected by the earth giving way in Haiti. So many of my favorite bloggers have written posts, or tweets or face book status updates on what they are doing to help. And that? is wonderful. What perplexed one of the greatest people I know (who I “met” because she commented on my blog.. ahem) perplexed me too… in fact, it kinda bothered me. When a well known and loved blogger posts about her funny quirks, or humorous accounts of family life.. she may get a veritable outpouring of comments and retweets. BUT when she mentions how she has and you could help an entire nation on its knees… crickets chirping. While children were DYING in the streets, women on facebook were posting what color bra they were wearing for breast cancer awareness (awareness is cheap. forget saving the ta-tas- lets save the women behind the breasts). Color me baffled. Heck, color me a little angry.  So, I have spent my hours this week reading the news and praying… yes, I donated to a reputable agency to help… I even called foster agencies in south Florida offering up our extra beds for displaced and orphaned children… but, it seems to me that most people would rather hear about how to make the perfect meatloaf or what just happened on Grey’s. So…  this week ( this post excluded) I am being quiet.

***** PLEASE NOTE: the “most people” I refer to are not you. I know y’all care. I know each of you have been praying, donating, and seeking God’s face in this time of tragedy. I am over generalizing, I know… but it is my blog… and my email account that will pay the price later for my tantrum.************

God is our refuge and strength. An ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way… Psalm 46:1-2

The hardest post I have ever written

I have no other title for this. Tonight, I am in pain.

I started this blog for me. I mean, it’s wonderful that I have tens of readers and I adore each of y’all… love many of y’all. You have made my life fuller, blessed me with a fellowship that I cannot begin to explain and given me a voice. I still cannot believe that y’all read my thoughts and possibly even care about them. But, I started this blog for me. I needed to heal. I needed a safe place to express my feelings while keeping me accountable for what I say and do.

And tonight, I need to be completely raw and honest. I am in pain.

I have a twin sister. A handful of you know her, most of you do not. We have a fractured relationship. I cannot remember a single moment in the last twenty years that she and I have shared a happy moment together. I cannot think of a single moment in the last two decades where I felt that she knew me, much less loved me. We are just so very different… that’s what I tell myself. That’s what I tell others. We are just so different. But the truth is, something happened somewhere along the way that completely changed our relationship.

When I was sixteen, I was brutally raped by a family member of a friend. I should have said something to someone, anyone, but he told me that if I went to a soul about it, he would hurt my sister. I believed him. On many levels, I still believe him. Do I blame her for that? Of course not. While I was still putting salve on my inner thighs where he had put his cigarettes out on me, she was telling friends at our small town school that I was sleeping with my attacker. I guess, on some level, she knew something was up and wanted to push me into telling her? Or maybe she was just being childish and mean? Either way, I let it go and forgave her soon after.

When our mother had her stroke, she decided that The Teen, then a 5 year old, was a “bad child” who would end up on the front page of the paper one day. I will never forget when she yelled in the hospital that she hated him. She hated my son. I thought for sure, I could never let that go. The hurt I felt, well, there are no words. My whole world was(is) my son(now,children). In so many ways, he gave birth to who I am today. How could she ever say that about any child… about MY child. I am proud to say The Teen has made the paper more than a few times… all for being the wonderful kid he is. And while everyone from friends to family told me to write her off. I couldn’t. I let it go.

When she refused to learn how to care for mom after her stroke, or blamed her being a larger woman on her condition… or when she planned her wedding, knowing Abby’s due date, for five weeks post partum 1500 miles away and causally told us children were not welcome at her wedding – only to find out that children were indeed there. It was simply my kids who were not welcome… when instead of congratulating me on getting my RN, she told everyone I was an unemployed loser… When she ridiculed me for being Christian…I could not give up on her. I let it go.

I mean, I have a great life. I have a wonderful family life, success, beautiful children and amazing husband. I am generally very happy. I simply cannot find a reason to hold onto the hurt she hurled at me. I want to be my own worst critic.. you know, like everyone else? SO I would close my eyes, and pray for her. And… I let it go.

The night we lost Eli, I crawled into my mom’s lap and cried. Then, I called my Dad and gave him the bad news. Mom called my sister and probably half the western world while I rested in the bath… numb and scared. A month later, my sister called to tell me that she forgave me for ruining her baby shower (which was the day after we lost our little boy) and told me I was self centered for mourning a cluster of cells. I was halfway through my pregnancy… life is life as soon as it begins, yes. But, y’all, I was feeling him kick. It took EVERYTHING I had. It took a grace that only comes from God… but. I let it go.

My sister delivered her second child this morning. Precious. Perfect. A Blessing.

You might think that her having a baby when we no longer can is what is causing me such pain. And you would be wrong. The pain I feel is because, I have let go so many times… that I no longer feel connected enough to truly celebrate. I know that somewhere in the Bay Area of California, I have a new nephew. Born to a woman that I pray for, that I love… that I no longer know. One too many times, I just let go.

Confessions… and trespasses

First, I want to confess something to all the tens of my readers. I have been avoiding you. December has been a difficult month to say the very least. I have lost contact with many of you and I am so sorry.

I have been hibernating sort of.  See, I have known for a while that I was being manipulated by someone… I have known that the enemy has been not just at my door, but allowed into our home. It’s too easy for me to see only good in people… that is for sure. But what’s worse, I sometimes seem to know in my heart that a person is a strife maker, and I still let them in… for a multitude of reasons… usually altruistic.

This time, if I am being completely honest, there was no altruism involved. I simply wanted what she had to say to be true. I NEEDED her words to be true… telling me that our path is an easy one, that she could get us exactly what we wanted and if she couldn’t her boss could. Man oh MAN I wanted to believe her. And on many levels, I have known that we were being played. But what she was selling… was almost worth the strife and lies.. was allllmost worth… worth what? Not too much later, favors started being asked… tasks, if you will. If any of you have watched any B Movies or drama series on The CW, you know where this was leading. We were at a crossroads. No blues guitar in hand… but hearts full of hope.

Some people sell their souls for fame. Some for money and power. Some people sell their souls and have no real idea that they have. I almost sold my soul, my sense of right, my need to glorify God,  for a baby.

As I write this, our fate lies in the hands of some people who may not understand why we are leaving their agency… they are angry, hurt, and at least one of them should be nervous. But, they have to write an evaluation on our family.. if we are decent people, would be good foster parents and the like. We will not know if we can proceed with the county until they have sent this evaluation on. I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. And I cannot believe I allowed such strife into our home.

I have asked Our Daddy for forgive me. And I hope you will forgive me too.

This is one of The Teen’s favorite songs… TobyMac’s Dad used to have this saying on his business card “What does it profit a man to gain the whole world, but lose his soul?”

Pardon me… but is that a huge foot in your butt?

After talking to countless adoption agencies… and connecting with a few potential birth moms, we have come to a few decisions.

See, the private agency we were licensed with is moving toward private adoption and needed someone to do some field research. And those of you who truly know me… know I am a research whore. I LOVE all things investigative. So, of course, I volunteered. After speaking with hundreds of adoption agencies, facilitators and attorneys, I got swept away. And I drug Hubs with me. We were ready to abandon the foster parenting ship and straight adopt.. it was easier, quicker and way less painful.

We made fliers for private adoption, put together a financial plan for down payments for agencies… micro managed every single step to this quicker fix… It was quite like planning for an infertility treatment cycle. And I felt myself going into that dark corner of my soul. That dark corner contains my inner control freak, obsessive worry and self doubt.

A truly good friend felt that I was headed in that direction, but in her wonderful Godly way, she just quietly reminded me to listen to Our Daddy. And, this past week, Hubs and I decided to pray on it… to pray for Him to make it clear for us. And boy did He! We got a supernatural kick in the pants.

Several things have been brought to our attention regarding the agency we are licensed through and it is apparent that we are not a good fit with them.  Our hearts are true in our desire to make life better for as many little ones as we can… and after some very upsetting news about this agency… and some deep prayer and discussion,

We are starting over

We have sent in a request to transfer our foster license to the county where we will be more accessible to the children who need us. We are not going to straight adopt… we are going to be foster parents… caring for the least of these. I cannot begin to express the weight that has been lifted, knowing that we are following a plan that’s so much bigger than our desire for a baby, knowing that we will soon be associated with people who are honest and have a heart for the children they serve.

Please pray for us as we begin again.. new home inspections, new paperwork, new direction, renewed hope.

Love y’all,

CeCe

It will be harder.. it will be messy… it will be hands on and hearts openly breaking…. and the right path for us.

unplugged

About two weeks ago, I did something stupid. I was working on a deadline using my handy dandy tray table to hold my laptop and just happily typing away. Mom called for me… from the bathroom… which? if you care for a parent, you know is never a good thing. SO I jumped up and ran towards the loo- never noticing that my foot had caught my power cord. Yeah. Lap top flies across the room in the direction of the cord… into my leg. I still don’t know who won the “notebook vs. leg battle” I had a huge black egg on my Achilles tendon and my hard drive died.

Long and somewhat embarrassing story short, I have been unplugged. I have been reduced to borrowing The Teen’s netbook to check FaceBook and shooting off quick emails on his tiny TINY maybe I need Bifocals keyboard.

I have a few things I need to blog about soon, and the new hard drive arrived today.. so perhaps this weekend, I can.. but

BUT tonight, I want to tell you guys how awesome you are. One particular reader and friend, Rachel, sent a HUGE box of Christmas for the foster kids at our agency. She is a gift to know… and now is a bearer of gifts to a group of children who need to know that they count, they are loved, and they can smile again.

Please take a moment to visit Rachel’s blog and thank her for being the amazing woman she is. (Also check out how ridiculously cute her little girl is!)

Till we meet again… I love y’all!!!

CeCe

Three little birds

I love Bob Marley. No, I wasn’t a pot head in college. I just love this man. He was a minister to so many. I dare each of you to listen to any one of his songs with Jesus on your mind. Amazing.

Bob can always lift my spirits on my more introspective days. When it’s overcast in my soul, I know that his music will at least remind me of the promise of clearer skies.

This week, it’s been grey, dark and rainy. Outside. Predictable for this time of year. Inside? there seems to be a perfect storm forming. I am filled with the hope of new life through foster parenting or adoption. I am also ever so relieved that Abby is back to being herself after the scariest week of my Mommyhood. H1N1 is no joke in this house anymore. Along with these beams of sunny happiness, there are clouds… predictable for this time of year.

Tonight, ten years ago, I watched in horror as my fellow Texas Aggies laid trapped in a heap of twisted trees. I responded to the emergency call… I won’t go into details… but it was a defining moment in my life. To lose a child.. a child making their own way out in to the world.. I simply could not imagine. Clouds. And an Eternal Flame.

This Friday, while I am at a conference, I will be celebrating what should have been Eli’s second birthday.Each of my kids have their own special lullabies. Songs I picked out long before they were in my arms. James is “House on Pooh Corner” Abby’s is “Baby Mine” and Eli’s is “Three Little Birds”

While I dedicate this song to our precious angel, I want to also send it up as a special prayer for my good friend Samantha. I just know that Eli has a tiny hand on the tiny hands that will grasp Sam’s fingers soon. Because, yes, we do miss Eli, but life goes on.. and thank God for that. Sun, clouds and unadulterated hope… I think know which weather pattern will win out.
Rise up this mornin’,
Smiled with the risin’ sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin’ sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin’, (“This is my message to you-ou-ou:”)

Singin’: “Don’t worry ’bout a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.”
Singin’: “Don’t worry (don’t worry) ’bout a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right!”

Rise up this mornin’,
Smiled with the risin’ sun,
Three little birds
Pitch by my doorstep
Singin’ sweet songs
Of melodies pure and true,
Sayin’, “This is my message to you-ou-ou:”

Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing, worry about a thing, oh!
Every little thing gonna be all right. Don’t worry!”
Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing” – I won’t worry!
“‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.”

Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right” – I won’t worry!
Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing,
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right.”
Singin’: “Don’t worry about a thing, oh no!
‘Cause every little thing gonna be all right!

 

in a nutshell… this week

Abby has H1N1. Fever over 103, one febrile seizure, poor breathing at night ( scary long pauses then huge gasps), listless, then combative… she has lost 6 pounds in 7 days. But today… she smiled. She has played on the floor. She is watching tv, eating crackers and being impish.

For those of you who received my phone calls, in sheer panic, asking for prayer, Thank you! They worked!

CeCe

Imagination Movers… and shakers (with awesome update)

Before I continue, I must tell y’all that long before The Imagination Movers hit the Disney big time, my mom nicknamed Abby the “juice box hero” and she until tonight, has held it against my Cajun brethren….

Today was a red letter day for Abby. She and I have been planning this special excursion for months….  counting down sleeps, practicing her dance to the show’s theme, rehearsing what she would say to her hero Smitty and reveling in the idea that she was old enough for her very first concert. Music is a huge deal in our family. Both Hubs and I were in bands and some of my songs can be found on LimeWire…rofl. Don’t even think about asking me.. because I aint tellin’.

Abby was so SO excited that we were going to see the Imagination Movers in concert that she hasn’t slept all week. Those of you how know us know that this is FAR from hyperbole. Last night, I finally got her settled in and snoring at 3AM. Lord Help. She was singing the Please and Thank You song in her sleep for Goodness sake. It was going to be a long long day. Those of you who have children (and allow said children to watch tv) know that these shows are often highly hyped and almost always a two hour Gilligan’s Island-esque tour through overt merchandising and a complete and total mind suck for all adults with an IQ over 50. If we are being honest… and that’s what blogs are for… I was not looking forward to it. From south Louisiana or not, I was expecting the worst. (Think Disney on Ice.. with  under studies)

We woke at the buttcrack of dawn and quickly dressed for our escape. Let girls’ day commence! Abby watched VeggieTales for the two hour drive in horrid rain into Indianapolis. Listening to ‘Do the MuShu” made me seriously want PF Changs (Shanghai cucumbers, anyone?) So, we arrived in Indy, we headed straight to the Nordstrom Mall… mmm PF Chang’s! Bring it!

After trying to find parking for 30 minutes and not finding valet parking anywhere remotely close.. I REFUSE to pay 15 bucks to park and still walk 4 blocks in the rain with little miss jump in puddles ( her native american name)…  we decided to find a place to dine closer to the theatre.

We found a German restaurant that had stellar reviews and decided to get while the getting was good. I don’t know about y’all but Abby is not a white linen tablecloth kinda girl. I was a tad worried. Worried for our server, worried for the crystal, and frankly? Worried for me. We were surrounded by the elderly and affluent. This did not look good. I explained to Abby that she needed to be on her fancy date day behavior and prayed for the best. At first, she was less than amused. She warmed up in pure Abby style and made a gift for our server.

After lunch we walked to the theatre. The princess was SO excited.. as were the other 3,000 children waiting with baited breath to see the Imagination movers. Again… I was not all that thrilled. I mean I love the show. I have to love a show that uses the term brainstorm. That values a child’s mind and heart. But live? What children’s show is better on stage? I shrugged to myself and said “at least it’s not Barney”

The show started and I played excited so that Abby wouldn’t be quite so unsure… because she was terribly unsure.

At this point, I told my sweet scared baby girl that we could leave, go sit in the lobby or whatever she may need to feel safer. She insisted we stay. It took her about 20 minutes to relax and another 10 to get into the singing and dancing. While she warmed up… a few things happened: each member, Scott, Smitty, Dave and Rich all came down into our audience and were interacting with the children… they were interacting with my child… even though her face looked like that. They went out of their way to speak to and touch the kids that looked a little less than confident in their surroundings. Score one for the Movers. They also worked wonderful adult humor into the show ( huge bonus). And there was this one other thing. They were good. Talented. And musically.. well… quite wonderful.

It seems that our children are faced with an insincerity that we didn’t encounter until much later in our lives. Somewhere, somehow, we… as a culture…  have forgotten that children can smell out pretension and facades quicker than we can tell someone needs a new diaper. But these guys were authentic. At one point, Rich spoke about their collective journey and it was as if he was sharing his testimony. I felt God’s whisper when he told the children.. MY child.. to never stop believing.

Halfway through, I had Abby dancing in my lap and another little girl on my other knee so she could see better. I never got the little girl’s name.. but she was welcome to share my space. ( I don’t know what it is about me that attracts random children… but I hope that  never changes) At the end, Abby got to hold hands with her Mover hero: Smitty. He is second only to Hubs and Jesus… and that is exactly what she told him.

And after today’s show, I have to say if she has to admire TV show characters, I am blessed she chose a group of four silly dads called the Imagination Movers. ( my only complaint is she refuses to wash the hand that held Smitty’s)

If you get a chance to take your little ones, JUMP UP!

I love y’all,

CeCe

UPDATE: I received an email response from The Imagination Movers.. and I think y’all need to see it for yourself. I told y’all these guys were authentic. And I  love it when I am proven correct.. just wish that phenomenon happened more often.

In my Inbox, after freezing my Cajun (aka large) hiney off at Trunk or Treat:

“…Thanks for seeing us as who we are. For one, treat kids as creators instead of consumers. Moreover, we appreciate that children don’t fake smiles or have agendas. To a large degree they’re much closer to what is ‘true’ than we adults are. Hopefully, we’ve created something that is sincere and meaningful for families to share in together. Sorry for being sappy but it’s who are.

Tell Abby, the Movers are happy she enjoyed the show.

Rock on!

the Movers”

I love these guys! For loving our kids. I must admit, I would love them more if they came from LA with Boudin and Chargrilled Oysters for the concession stand. A girl can dream.

Wake up and smell the froot loops

OK. I admit it. I have been in a mood as of late. Could it be that we have had no free time for the last 7 weeks with classes on foster parenting (geared toward people with far less education than us.. another post all together)?  Maybe it’s the week long sinus headache?  Could it be because my mother’s cognitive level changes when the leaves start turning.( I think it’s part of her personal grieving process… as it gets colder she starts reliving her last winter as an independent woman.) Perhaps my grumpiness is in response to feeling so very sad for Kim, Amber and Sharon.

I truly have no idea. I just know I am in a mood. When I have a bug up my butt (as my son so eloquently puts it), I suffer. But my family? Not so much.

See? we all have tale tale signs of being in a funk. Mine just happen to be a bit odd. When the going gets tough? The tough (me) get shopping or baking. SO while I am feeling like whipped dog poop, my kids are getting new clothes, toys and video games, the smell of pumpkin muffins and cinnamon bread waft through our little house and the kids get a thrill when they see… JUNK FOOD in the reusable grocery bags. While I thought my mood wasn’t affecting anyone, something traumatic happened today:

Abby has used froot loops to make necklaces once. But we are, I am sad to say, more of a cheerios or shredded wheat family. You can just see the joy in her face when she realized that her moody mom brought home those synthetically glorious wheels of joy for her to eat, can’t you? Oh she was ecstatic! She ate three bowls! All was well….until. The very next day. She had a beautiful, if I may say, shade of aqua marine poop. She may need therapy.

I think it may be time for me to rethink my coping habits. Until then… anyone need some homemade brownies?

How do y’all cope? I need some fresh ideas.

Love y’all!

C

PS: Our home study is complete… now we wait on God’s timing.

life in overcast

3 weeks. 3 friends. 3 miscarriages.

Today is Miscarriage and Infant loss Remembrance  Day. The last month, I have shouted with joy for three friends who began a new pregnancy journey. All three have suffered previous losses. All three are now suffering again. It makes me feel ill. Literally ill.

I have nothing pithy or fun to say today. I just wanted to let those of you in pain… new or lingering…know  that I care. We care. You are not alone.

Sleep well:

Alexander (Lindsee’ precious little one)

Eli

Erica’s Angel

Alex ( Kat’s sweet baby)

Sharon’s 7 Angels

Amber’s 2 Angels

Lily  (Lori’s sweet little girl)

Kim’s 2 Angel babies

Amy’s Angels

and all the other babies loved SO much and missed.

Prayer request… and a quick update

Ok y’all… I mentioned Sharon on my blog more than a few times… last mention she was going through her frozen embryo transfer. Well, today (actually late last night for those of us in the States) she found out that she is indeed pregnant. While I have jumped and clapped like a 3 year old in sheer happiness, I still want to ask y’all for prayer. Sharon has had many losses and we need to pray that she is allowed to carry to term and have the joy that so many of us have experienced. SO.. lets pray for Sharon.

As for me? We have two more Saturdays full of classes, then we will be done! I am hoping that we will be licensed and ready to go by my birthday! We are getting excited. Abby is too. She has been practicing loving on babies by taking out all of her babies (all of whom are named Lyla..) and diapering them, singing to them and wearing them in her tiny Moby wrap. It’s terribly cute.

Today is week 2 of her new dance class and she has had her tap shoes on since breakfast. The rain has been awful here, so I am just hoping we can make the drive to the tiny town that houses the best little dance studio in Central Indiana.

How is everyone? update me!

Love y’all! And thanks for praying for my friend!

CeCe

Totally Random Tuesday!!!!! (she’s baaaack)

It’s been too dang long since I had a TRT… and while it’s actually 2 hours past Tuesday here (hmm that would be an awesome band name) I am in a random mood. So.. away we go.

• Larry’s car is under the weather so he has been using my minivan for commuting to school on Wednesdays. WHAT is it about not being able to leave the house that makes me WANT to leave the house?
• Some old woman  wearing one of those plastic hair protection bonnets sneered at me yesterday because I was jumping in puddles with Abby. Little does she know that I would have jumped in them even if I were sans child. The kid just makes it seem a smidgen more acceptable.
• On that note:  I think we need to start a national plastic hair protection bonnet wearing day. OOOOOH!! and a “wrap your head in toilet paper while you sleep to save your ‘do’ day.” My MawMaw would have loved those holidays.
• Abby has a new game… one she plays over and over and over: she places her kitty beanie baby on the love seat. Hides. Makes Mom (NaNa) close her eyes, count to ten then say “Oh DEAR! that baby kitten is hanging off a cliff! Where oh WHERE is Abby the rescuer?” Abby saves said kitten from its certain death, asks me if she can keep it, I say yes. Rinse, repeat. I keep trying to get Mom to pretend she has fallen asleep in her eye closing countdown, but she can’t keep from laughing. I guess I know where my inability to bluff comes from.
• I have gathered some baby clothes and will be buying a crib this week for our new life as foster parents… and, in all the preparation and shopping.. I haven’t once felt cheated, grief, or the pain I guess I was halfway expecting. Life moves on. And maybe I have with it. That’s new. And good.
• James and I went to see Tyler Perry’s new movie “I can do bad all by myself” mainly because we LOVE Tyler Parry… also a good old friend who started/restarted her singing career at my old coffee house had a song in it. Ruthie Foster is an amazing voice… and outstanding woman. SO  proud to know her.
• I am ready… SO ready to be licensed to foster/adopt. We are extremely lucky to have the agency we do. I hope they know how blessed we are to have them on this journey.
• On that note (again): We could, financially, go straight to private adoption. And I am sure many of our loved ones are wondering why we aren’t. We have been called. I don’t know the whys or hows of it… but I do know we have been called specifically to this. It is evident to us that we are on the right path when we witness the passion and authenticity within our agency’s leader ( and two of his coworkers). I often wonder if he knows that he is changing the world.
• I sent Sombra Kermit songs all afternoon today. WHO doesn’t feel green from time to time? I also sang the Varuca Salt song from WIllie Wonka on her voicemail last week. ( I want to lock it all UP in my pocket, Its My bar of CHOCOLATE! Give it to me NOOOW) Also… made a mix CD for my neighbor friend with songs that relate to foster parenting and healing the broken child.  Which? Also has Kermit songs? I have issues am SO thoughtful.
• I have spiritual and emotional dyslexia, I think.  Believing is seeing. I was watching this abysmal movie last night called “Screen Door Jesus” (no, not joking) and there was this line that stuck with me… paraphrased: cop says ” the human brain is programmed to see patterns in random things.” Lady retorts; “could it be that God made us that way so we could better see His face?”  Interesting. I have often wondered that. It’s one of the few theological debates that doesn’t make my head hurt.
• If believing IS seeing (which, y’all it so is), in what have you seen God in today?

As Always, if you have a prayer need, let me know.

Sharon needs our prayers as she gets ready for her frozen embryo transfer later this week.

Love y’all!

CeCe

When’s it gonna be MY turn?

If you have drawn breath and made it through the first 10 years of life, you have asked that very question. As a twin, I shared just about eveything as a child. Taking turns is a part of life.

If you have gone through infertility, you might ask yourself, ask God, ask your doctor “when’s it gonna be MY turn” on a monthly if not daily basis. Someone very dear to my heart is going through a frozen cycle of IVF this month and I hope you join me in praying for her.

As many of you know, Hubs and I are taking classes to be foster parents and maybe .. possibly adopt. There are moments as of late when I get a little upset with myself for ever putting myself, my family (and hair) through infertility treatments. We always knew, as a couple, that we would be foster parents at some point. What was so hard about allowing it to be a now thing? I guess we first needed to know what it felt like to see hope as an enemy. I guess, maybe we needed to remember what it feels like to ask that childlike question. I know that the past two and a half years have been more about finding peace in losing Eli. Which also, in its own way, has prepared us to foster children. There is a gift in losing a child… as odd as that sounds. We know now, without a doubt, that our children are only ours on loan. They belong to something much bigger than us and the very best thing we can do is love them… with wild abandon…. for as long as we can.

Now, if we are all being honest with ourselves… if the glow from our computer screens fully illuminate where we are on our journeys… we know that we always have some “when’s it gonna be My turn” desires.  But we are adults, fully capable of waiting  and coping when we don’t get what we want.

I know I am rambling on and on tonight. But here comes my point…

A dear old friend, Michelle has a son who is seriously ill. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the toll it must take on her and her family because she is just always so kind and centered. Her son Austin is having continuous seizures which have affected his life and functionality in too many ways to count. When is it going to be his turn to be healed? After reading Michelle’s latest blog post, I literally stamped my feet and asked that out loud. ( then, in super stalker form, tracked down her home number to leave her a message)  Michelle needs our support and prayers. Please visit her blog and show her the love y’all show me.

I love y’all!

CeCe

sticks and stones…

I never understood that adage. “Sticks and stones can break my bones but words will never hurt me.” What a ginormous load of crap that is. Words shape who we are forever. Kind words mold our self image. Not so kind words reinforce our already painful insecurities.

Growing up with Scleroderma shaped who I am today… mainly by misshaping my body.  Many of you have never seen me in person and have no idea what Scleroderma is. Those of you who know me, may have, over the years, asked me why my hands look similar to those seen in horror movies or on 90 year old arms. When I was a teen, while my friends were planning their weddings, I silently worried that my bent fingers would never host a wedding ring. It wasn’t enough that I was seriously ill months out of the school year, but I also looked like a total freak.

But kids are resilient. I adapted. Made do. And made friends. My hands have held children, worn wedding rings, delivered babies, saved lives, written love letters and folded together in deep prayer. My hands, in all of their bendy glory, have helped shape who I am today.

I was a child with a disability. I just never saw myself as one. Different? yup. Disabled? not so much. I assumed that I was simply accepted and my general dislike for myself was a teen phase and wholly a “CeCe” thing.

UNTIL…

Being open and up front with friends and relatives about the desire to adopt and/or foster a disabled baby has brought up some serious ugly. I won’t sugarcoat it for them and I won’t for y’all. We are wanting special needs babies because we want to make whatever small difference we can. We are not famous, we do not have power to change world views.. and really? We don’t want that. We just want to be a safe soft place to land for babies or children who need that. To make comments about taking on too much, the burden that a child with disabilities can be, the stares we may or may not get when in public is offensive.

If not us, who? If not now, when? Can I manage? With these hands… I can do ANYthing.

I love y’all!

CeCe

ETA: I have been in remission  from systemic Scleroderma since 1992. I will always have the joint structure and pain that goes with tissue contractures… but I am not in life threatening crisis. Though MANY are. SO stop worrying about me. But as women? Its high time we get active and outspoken when it comes to autoimmue diseases.

Saying Grace…

While I have told y’all that I am all “me’d” out from the past few weeks, there is something that I really need to share with you, my tens of readers…

What do you call those moments when you realize that God has a plan for you and is working out the details? You know, those moments or circumstances that are SO coincidental that they no longer can possibly BE coincidence? What IS that?

It’s Grace y’all! Grace is something we talk about a lot as Christians, as women, heck, as Oprah watchers. ( I personally do not watch Oprah… can’t stand her)

Since moving to this tiny/big town after leaving the little church that wouldn’t… I have come to be good friends with God working in our lives.. a friend I can only assume is Grace.

First? I have a devoted reader ( I still can’t get over that y’all like to read what I have to say) that I have always known was placed in my life for some reason. She just speaks to my heart. If we’re being honest, several of you have become tenants of my heart: Shawna, Rachel, Sharon, Michelle ( who I have known forever.. but am just getting to realizing that she is one amazing woman), Lindsay, Sam, and Kay.  I think of and pray for you often.

Ahem… sorry, it’s the middle of the night and I am chatting and half awake.. dangerous combo. Kay, though, is someone I think of regularly. She is such a strong woman who, frankly, has not been dealt the most awesome of cards in her life. Yet, she loves with wild abandon and lives when most of us would be hiding under the covers. She doesn’t know it, but she has had a real affect on how I see my children and who I see as someone who *MIGHT* be one of our children. I don’t want to talk about it yet, but God is up to something. Grace.

Also? We moved in to the cute little house I told y’all all about months ago. I hate the kitchen… but I love… we LOVE our neighbors. We are blessed to live next to a lovely couple that I cannot for the life of me understandhow we have lived in the Midwest all these years and survived without them. The wife is quickly becoming a close friend. Not only is she the one who convinced us that we CAN foster parent and adopt.. that we are worthy… but she is just an awesome person. Can y’all believe the pastor’s wife found a bona fide face to face friend?!?!? I had become so used to the sinking lonely feeling that maybe I would never get to laugh until I snorted with someone outside of my house again. She has blessed us SO much. Her husband is walking talking hilarity and James and Larry adore him. ( I like him too, of course, but the boys  have needed a guy friend) Can you imagine? Just three months ago, I was telling y’all that we knew we were done with trying to get pregnant, but we just knew that God wasn’t done with our parenting plans… then.. poof. Friend AND advocate? Seriously, someone to love me for me and share my heart for children… who is female and doesn’t treat me like the preacher’s wife. Nothing but Grace.

I just wanted to share with y’all that my prayers have been answered… and God is revealing himself in some amazing people. And it’s because people like you prayed for someone like me. Thank you, y’all and thank You Our Eternal Daddy!

Where have you found Grace today? Tell me!

checking in…

I am such a neglectful blogger. I am sorry.

After writing 17 pages of autobiographical information for our homestudy, I am just me’ed out. I seriously think that I I have to write one more sentence about me, I might puke.

I do have some things to say though.. so consider this a Thuroughly Random Thursday:

• I have a very good friend who is expecting and I am SO happy for her! She is a great mommy already to two little princesses and my gut is saying this one may just have a picnic attachment. Pray for her during her pregnancy?

• Larry has a new student at his seminary. And y’all? It is someone we loved to hate years back when the first season of apprentice. Anyone got a guess? Omarosa! I wish her luck on her journey… and will work hard to erase my preconceived notions of her.

• Speaking on conception, I have two friends who are about to try to get pregnant in September or October. Can you please pray for Rachel and Sharon?

• Abby has been going through this phase ( please God, let this be a phase) of not wanting to sleep. Like at all. I have seen dawn before closing my eyes more in the past few weeks than I have since working 3rd shift on the L&D floor. I think she is going through a growth spurt physically AND learning to read. That can really mess with this girl’s sleep schedule.

• I have a physical tomorrow for our home study. It’s been so long since I had a regular physical, I hope I don’t accidentally strip from the waist down. Oh,Larry has to have one too.  Turn. Cough. Hahahahaah!

• I need y’all to pray for my friend Michelle and her family… specifically Austin. He is on a new med that seems to be controlling his seizures better. But if we all prayed? maybe we could get him seizure free? It’s a goal.

• I have stopped the diet for the time being… I was getting too obcessed and Abby was starting to ask “Mommy? how many calories does this have?”  Time to rethink our approach.

• We start our classes for special needs/therapeutic foster care/ adoption Sept 1st. I am excited and scared and giddy all at one time.

I want to know what I can pray for when it comes to you. I know that sometimes we get so wrapped up in our lives that we forget that we have fellowship. I want to pray for each of you. Just let me know what you are needing.

Love y’all,

CeCe

Marco………?

Polo.

I am here y’all, I promise. I have been spending some quite time with Our Daddy as of late… and trying to figure out what He is saying in terms of adoption. It’s been an odd place, if we’re being honest. Can you imagine trying to write a profile for someone to read and decide that you are worthy of their child? I have never been good at “selling” myself. I have spoken to countless adoption agencies, lawyers, and everyone in between. We have found one agency/ non profit that we trust with our hearts for a child… and most importantly, our hearts for Jesus. I love these people and what they stand for. And I promise I will post, in detail, about them this week.

But this morning… as I edit the “Cecelia” portion of our profile, it hit me. We try SO hard to measure up in this earthly life. Are we skinny enough? Kind enough? Fun enough? Saved enough? Saved enough… You know what I mean here, y’all?

That feeling that if we just try a little harder, if we do more good than bad… if we set aside time to pray for more than the fleeting moments of “Dear Jesus, help me ____. Or God, help my friend____” then maybe, just maybe we would feel worthy of God’s love and Salvation.

It’s not a healthy way to live, no. But it’s a place we have all been. Where do you feel like you need to be perfect? Are you a perfect parent? A perfect child to your parents? A perfect employee? A perfect child of God?

Perfect is not us. Perfect was, is and will always be the Christ Son on the tree.

Yesterday, Abby woke up at 6AM to tell me something that she thought was urgent.

“Mommy? You know how you say that Jesus loves everyone ALL the time?”

“He sure does sweetie”

“Well, Jesus and I have been talking a LOT lately,Mom. And I am relatively certain that I am His favorite.”

While she may be a bit off base… and SUPER confident… it made me giggle… and thank Our Daddy that he would rather die than to live without us.

I love y’all!

CeCe

PS: Amy and precious baby Moxie went home this week.. aside from some apnea issues, both are doing very well. Thank you all for praying and THANK YOU Jesus!

A Dear Birth Mom Letter

This is what I have been working on… and it should give y’all some insight as to where we are headed. I guess at some point I need to change my blog description, huh?

I want to thank you all SO much for being an ear(eye) during this journey and I hope you stick around as our journey takes another wonderful turn.

Love y’all!

CeCe

******************************************************************

Dear Caring Mother,

Before we share our story with you, we want to first tell you how grateful we are that you have chosen life for your child. Whether you have been Christian all of your life, just beginning your life in relationship with Jesus, or unsure about just where you stand, we want you to know that we are thankful, SO very thankful to God for you. We cannot begin to imagine the pain and fear you must be feeling. But know that whether we ever meet face to face, whether you decide we are or aren’t the family for your baby, or whether you decide that you can parent your baby, we will pray for you. Yes, we are on an adoption journey and wanting a special baby to shower our love on, but we are also on our life journey and just knowing that women like you are choosing life is something to celebrate and praise. So, no matter what, your heart for your child has touched us.

Our desire to adopt a special needs child stems from many different areas of our lives and hearts. Larry was an addiction counselor and has a Masters degree in Psychology. He also has a strong desire to live out what he preaches in church. Cecelia started working with special needs children in her high school years as a summer camp counselor for a non-profit camp that catered to children with a wide range of disabilities. She also has a medical background and has cared for newborns and infants with various health issues. Cecelia’s mother, who the children call NaNa, was a special needs school counselor for 25 years before she retired. We are more than capable to advocate and care for a special needs child. But our desire to welcome a precious special needs child into our home has little to do with our qualifications. We have so much love to give, and who is more deserving of an overabundance of love and attention than a little one with so many challenges? We want to be a part of a miracle. We want to share in your miracle. I know you may not feel this way today, but you are a special part, a very important part of a miracle.

Meet Larry’s Wife:

My wife – Cecelia is a stay at home mom and can’t think of anything she would rather do than care for her family. She is an extremely kind woman who goes out of her way to help friends and strangers alike. She is very intelligent and has a laugh that gets the whole family giggling. Before children, she was a medical professional. Now her fulltime job is raising children.  Most days her schedule includes taking the kids to the park. Playing games, painting, baking or making mudpies are some of her favorite kid time activities. She is a supportive wife, an amazing mom and a true friend to many. She wants to welcome a special child into our loving home more than anything.

Meet Cecelia’s Husband:

My husband – Larry is a pastor and loves answering the call that God gave him. He is blessed to be in a church denomination that provides rock solid job security. In this economy, it’s nice to know we are safe from layoffs. Larry is an intelligent and kind man. He is an involved parent who often schedules his days so that he can have lunch at home and be present for dance classes, model rocket launches and doctor’s appointments. His priorities are evident when you see him with the kids. He is the love of my life and extremely excited about adopting.

We love being parents! We have two wonderful biological children. Our son is 14 and our daughter is 4. Our teen (James) is an aspiring inventor and can make just about anything electronic with an Altoids box. And our 4 year old (Abby) is our resident Candy Land shark. We haven’t won a game yet against her. We take several short weekend vacations a year and one large week long vacation a year. It is extremely important to us that we provide a childhood full of wonderful memories. We want our children to see the Grand Canyon, Disney, Yellow Stone and Washington D.C. at least once in their childhood. Living in the Midwest allows our children to see all four seasons. Snow is, of course, their favorite. We try to never let a learning opportunity pass us by as parents, and more importantly, we never forget why we do this: Love.

We lost a baby very late into our last pregnancy two years ago and are no longer able to conceive children. Our hearts always knew we wanted to adopt a special baby, and after some time for healing our hearts, we are ready to open them up to the forever child that God has planned for us.

Our housing situation is one of the benefits of being a pastor’s family. We are provided a nice house with a backyard and all of the special requirements needed to pass ADA standards. No matter what church we serve, we will always have suitable housing for a family with special needs. Larry’s church denomination takes extremely good care of their pastors and we are very grateful for that. We are and will always be close to regional hospitals and various specialists.

As a pastor’s family, we cannot offer Sundays full of sleeping late and football games, but we can offer lullabyes, story time, sit down meals, mud pies in the back yard, and a life filled with as much love as there are challenges.

Thank you so much for considering us,
Cecelia and Larry

Major Announcement…..

***update of sorts– I haven’t written anything on here because I am trying to get together a Dear Birthmom letter and bio… How do you put into words “Thank you SO much for being so unselfish and allowing us to see hope as an friend again and not the enemy????”*****

I have written, erased and rewritten this post 13 times now in the last three weeks.  I am one for always being authentic and exposed when it comes to this blog. And try as I might, I cannot fully express the magnitude of the emotions behind our major announcement. We are scared. We are humbled. We are hopeful. And we are 100% committed.

How many times have I mentioned that I am not very good at listening to the still calm voice? Well, Hubs and I have been listening.

I will share with y’all a much more in depth post on this new journey later this week… but for now…..
We are no longer going to try to conceive. We are going to foster parent and possibly adopt. We are exploring out options and praying hard on which path to take. Pray for us?

CeCe

PS if you know any good adoption blogs… link me.

This woman’s work.

I never blog about the TV shows I watch. Not for any reason… other than if I allowed myself to blog about tv.. I would hide behind that daily. It’s SO much easier to chat about entertainment than for me to show my heart and soul. And this blog is a place where I can share my heart… dreams… love for each of you and sometimes my humiliating moments (like yesterday’s post). Between my writing style, rebellion against all things grammar, and crazy and sometimes vapid life.. I still don’t fully grasp why any of you read. But I am thankful for the fellowship.

Tonight.. something remarkable happened. Summertime is my guilty pleasure season when it comes to the boob tube. I love and I mean LOVE “Saving Grace” and “Nurse Jackie.” But my first love.. my first television summer fling was with “SO You Think You Can Dance.” Yes, I KNOW this makes me a dork. Yes I am aware that I cannot dance to save my life. But Y’all? This show brings me joy.

I was completely taken aback tonight when a song that brings forth SO much pain and poetry in my very heart was showcased…

I know many of you reading have never dealt with miscarriage, infant loss, infertility and the indescribable pain that type of daily battle brings. (Oh, and anyone who thinks pregnancy loss, infant loss or infertility isn’t a daily battle hasn’t lived through it.) Some of my readers have walked the shoreline of this breed of grief. I say shoreline in the most deliberate way. The pain comes in waves.. most days are calm and manageable. Then, there are days when the waves pound and threaten to drag you under.

My RE once explained to me how the inability to conceive or carry to term is very much akin to having cancer. Sounds trite, doesn’t it? And I would never try to belittle the horrible anguish that people with such a senseless disease must live with. But, in many ways, I think Dr D was right on. You live everyday trying to beat the odds. You try to see your body as a vessel but really? You see it was a great betrayal. You feel broken. Your whole life is pills, shots, cycle days, appointments and running. Running from what? From every little or huge setback. Hope is your enemy and your best friend. Its a hard hard life.

There isn’t a day that I don’t think about Eli. Just as I know there isn’t a moment Shaz and Sam don’t miss their angels or feel the deep need to hold the babies they SO deserve. There isn’t a minute that Amber doesn’t miss her precious angel and long for her arms to be full. It hurts. Make it go away.

The song “This Woman’s Work” has been my secret ( I guess until now) grief song. I have songs that lift me up and give me peace with all of this. Songs that remind me of God’s love and plan for me. But this song? Is my guilty pleasure and pain. When I feel like I need to let er rip. When I need to express my immeasurable grief and fear? When the waves are crashing in and I am scared of what will happen if I don’t just let go for a while? ( I have discovered , with the help of Sombra’s wording, that when I eat my pain? All I get is indigestion) When I need to let myself tear down so I can rebuild… I listen to this song.

Tonight, a dance and story was added and it was amazing. I sobbed. But for the first time in a long long time… I didn’t cry alone. Watch it, y’all. Let it go for a little while. And think of yourself as the super strong Ade. Holding the scared, sad, fragile woman up. Just like y’all hold me.

I love y’all.

C

PS: the whole song is here. Listen to it.

Lyrics:

Pray God you can cope.
I stand outside this woman’s work,
This woman’s world.
Ooh, it’s hard on the man,
Now his part is over.
Now starts the craft of the father.

I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.
I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.

I should be crying, but I just can’t let it show.
I should be hoping, but I can’t stop thinking

Of all the things I should’ve said,
That I never said.
All the things we should’ve done,
That we never did.
All the things I should’ve given,
But I didn’t.

Oh, darling, make it go,
Make it go away.

Give me these moments back.
Give them back to me.
Give me that little kiss.
Give me your hand.

(I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.
I know you have a little life in you yet.
I know you have a lot of strength left.)

I should be crying, but I just can’t let it show.
I should be hoping, but I can’t stop thinking

Of all the things we should’ve said,
That were never said.
All the things we should’ve done,
That we never did.
All the things that you needed from me.
All the things that you wanted for me.
All the things that I should’ve given,
But I didn’t.

Oh, darling, make it go away.
Just make it go away now.

Eau de crazy.

***First, I must share with you that I hate.. I mean super seriously HATE the euphemism “On the Rag” and always have. I mean ew. I much prefer Aunt Flo if we have to give that craptastic 5-7 days of sheer hell a name. If we are being totally honest? I think we “give” our periods way too much to begin with: cute nicknames, Pain relievers marketed solely for her, a million choices in tampons, pads and umm.. alternative gadgets of doom, and even special panties. There are months when I wish we could invoke Biblical rules and Hubs would send me away to bleed alone and in peace. I have often told him to build me a hut. With a wine chiller. ***

I sometimes wonder if there is a special population of people, women in particular, that emit some type of pheramone that attracts seriously odd people. I, my friends, am one of those ever so lucky emitters. I will never forget the evening at Starbucks, when I was trying to get in one last deadline before Abby was scheduled to arrive. A women sat next to me, asked how far along I was… what I was working on… and then, within 2 minutes of sitting far too close to me, blurted out that she was a hermaphrodite. Yay. Thank YOU for sharing with me. I never made that deadline. Something about her words made it impossible to finish a review of the new hottest dining experience in Houston.

Moving to the Midwest has been a serious change for all of us. There are so many aspects of Southern living that I miss. I miss good food, great churches, fun people, folklore and hospitality. If you aren’t from the South, it’s hard to describe accurately. Southerners talk in the grocery lines, we smile and chat with children who *GASP* aren’t ours and share advice… most times, unsolicited.  In the Midwest, no one chats with strangers, no one talks to your kids, and no one EVER gives cheery advice on anything. This Midwest place is a very repressed society. Something that took me years to get used to.

Because of these unspoken rules here in the dust bowl, I was taken by surprise when a lovely woman today spoke to me in the checkout line…

” You should really try Glad Rags.”

At first, I didn’t realize she was addressing me. Three more attempts …

“Miss? You should REALLY try Glad Rags.”

I looked up and smiled. I was so taken off guard that someone SPOKE to me in line. I secretly wanted to hug her. I restrained myself. Although, I am sure she could see the childlike glee in my eyes.

“Really? Why?” I responded

“They are SO much better for the environment! You will LOVE them.” She said

I hadn’t gotten much today. A few lean pocket boxes, diet sodas, tampons for impending period and paper towels. So I assumed she was pitching her favorite paper towels.

“Oh! I am all for saving the environment, I try to buy green as much as I can. That’s why I buy these paper towels. Recycled, see? They are a little thin so when I know it’s going to be a mess, I just fold them up and they work for me just fine.”

That’s when she clammed up. And she looked at me… like I looked at my Starbucks buddy some 4 years ago. ( And many many more freaky over sharers since, I am sure) hmmmm.

What. the. heck.did.I. SAY?

Once home, with the groceries all in the proper place, I did what any curious woman would. Google.

OH MY LAWD!

I don’t know what disturbs me more… the notion of tossing a soiled, nasty, blood soaked (albeit cute) pad into my family’s washing machine…. or that my big mouth and me made some woman believe that I fold recycled paper towels into some sort of feminine hygiene origami project!!!!!

Dollars to doughnuts, she never speaks to another fellow shopper, is blogging about this encounter, and telling people that she attracts the strangest people… must be something she emits.  Maybe I am just doing my part in keeping the Midwest repressed.

Moxie has….. MOXIE!!!!!!!!

Amy delivered Moxie last night at around 8 EST. And y’all? aside from needed a little cpap ( a little forced air through her nose to help inflate her tiny lungs)  Moxie and Amy are doing great! Ever wonder if your prayers are heard? Ever wonder if God is still performing great miracles? Ever think there is just too much for Him to do than to listen to you? Well… they ARE, He DID, and He IS!!!!

Thank you so much for getting on your knees for my friend and my newest neice!

Love love LOVE y’all,

C

Amy and Moxie update and prayer request..

Been emailing Amy off and on all day and I need to keep y’all up to date, I know. But I am so emotional over this all that the best I can do is copy and paste and ask that if you can, if you are led to, spend some time on your knees for my oldest friend and her baby. I keep flashing back to our summer visit some 23 years ago.. young, innocent and so sure that the world was ours .. if we just worked hard enough for it. Amy is a true heart, and let me tell y’all, she has been handed some serious plates of poo in her life, but her faith has rarely wavered. Her love has never failed.. and she has always known God has a plan for her. I thought the hardest conversation we would ever have was the night I told her that our Eli had died. But this is so much harder. Amy and I share so many things… family dynamics, writing careers, love of seriously bad music, disabilities… I just want need her to not share the pain of losing this baby. Pray, my friends, please pray.

Here is a condensed version of our emails today:

Amy: I can’t do this.  I’m trying to write a birth plan.  I’m so scared Cece.  MMIH is still a possibility, can’t be ruled out until birth but all the soft markers by u/s are pointing that it’s not MMIH.  They are going to let me deliver in Boulder but we’re going to have a planned c-sec so #1 the neo nates are there, #2 I don’t blow my other implant out of my head pushing #3 prior placental abruption.  I need to address my communication needs, desires for birth and after care and also include comfort compassionate care wishes in case some is really wrong.  I just cannot wrap my brain around it.  I’m going over and over everything that went wrong and everything that went right when I had Whit.  I’m just sobbing thinking that maybe, just maybe we’ll be bringing home our baby girl.  I don’t care how she makes it into our arms.  Sorry, just having a rough go of it all.

Me:You want video to be permitted in the OR for Clay to record… just in case things dont go well so that you have that tangible memory of her birth.
You want the entire team (nurses especially) to be briefed on the possibilities so that everyone is kind and caring and knows why you are freaking out pre op.
You want a chaplain/priest on hand for baptism as soon as possible
You want Precious Memories to be on call in case
You want as little mind altering meds via IV as possible… so you can be as present as possible.
As soon as permitted, you want to nurse Moxie
You want footprints and hand/feet molds done (compassionate care should have them)
You want a private room that is big enough for two full size beds…. so if the kids want to sleep over they can (its been hard on them too and they need the people there to recognize that)
You want meals for Clay brought in so he doesnt have to leave if he doesn’t want to
You need to have a letter written for each nurse to read before she enters your room explaining the situation whether Moxie does super well or not

How is that for starters?

If you need me, I am here

Amy: It means so much that I can call on you during my darkest moments.  Thanks for the suggestions, I have most of them in our “what if” comfort care plan.  I never really thought much about the actual birth itself and had no idea I could do a birth plan with a c-section.  I’m going to work on it more later when I’m not so fried and can think clearly.  I have an 8 o;clock apt. for stress test & bio physical profile.  I have a feeling they may go ahead and take me.  I’ll be sure Clay keeps you posted.  Love you, A

SO it looks to me like they may keep her and Moxie may be here very very soon. Please pray y’all.. and if you have an suggestions let me know so I can pass them on.

Today you are 14…

My wonderful son. You hate having your picture taken these days almost as much as I do. The early teen years can be are always difficult. And, I know that, some days, you don’t like yourself all that much. But I want you to know something that I have always known: You are so very very special. I know this because  I met you years before I  met myself. I know that makes no sense at all to you right now. How could it?

The afternoon you were born, while everyone was celebrating Independence Day, I was celebrating the birth of a son. A perfect, albeit mammoth size, precious son who would be named after my hero, and your Great Paw Paw. I was almost 22 and lost in so many ways… but there you were, my gift. I may have taken more than the average bear’s wrong turns in life. You and I both know I have made my share of mistakes… but on each and every leg of our journey, I have loved you more than air itself. You were and will always be my first born, my partner in crime and one of the best jobs I have ever had. James, you are so very special to  Larry, Abby and your Nana. And you are my very heart and soul. I am so proud to be your mom. But more than that? I am blessed.

The night before you were born… I had been in active labor about 39 hours already…

Once everyone left to get some sleep, I prayed. I just kept asking God to make sure you would be OK. It had been a long labor and I, knowing what could go wrong, was getting scared. I didn’t realize that I had been praying for hours until I saw the sun rise. “Please, God, just let him be Okay.”

And in the wonderful way that God works, he made sure you weren’t just Okay. You were, and are, perfect. My wonderful, beautiful, kindhearted, intelligent, funny, amazing son. Here’s to your first 14 years. Thank you for sharing them with me.

Your favorite lullaby when you were small….

Christopher Robin and I walked along
under branches lit up by the moon.
Posing our questions to owl and eeyore
as our days disappeared all too soon.
But I’ve wandered much further today than I should
and I can’t seem to find my way back to the wood.

So, help me if you can I’ve got to get
back to the house at Pooh corner by one.
You;d be surprised there’s so much to be done,
count all the bees in the hive,
chase all the clouds from the sky.
Back to the days of Christopher Robin and Pooh.

- Kenny Loggins

Our days have dissappeared all too soon, indeed. So, try not to mind too much if I hold on tighter to the time we have left. I love you, son.

XoXoXo,

Mom