Mama and Daddy, meet Jesus.

There are times during this fight for the life of my fourth that I realize what I have learned over the last 5 years.  Yes 5.  Perhaps it is even more clear as the birthday of my first born quickly approaches.  I look at this beautiful, blue eyed, little girl and I remember when she was born.  I remember the first few months of her life and how hard they seemed and I smile.  Not to discount the difficulty of first time parenting, because I am well aware of that difficulty.  Sleepless nights, breast infections, endless crying.  Not realizing then in the moments of utter frustration, what an absolute miracle a healthy, crying, pooping, burping, spitting up, fussy, no napping baby is!!  Oh my goodness have I learned, just as I learn everything, the hard way. 

I must say I think of the things that I complained about and I shake my head.  Not that I knew any better then.  Not that I was complaining just for the sake of hearing myself.  But still, it was complaining.  And now that I am on this side of parenting that I never imagined myself on, honestly I am a little embarrassed. So many parents like we are now, that were tired beyond my wildest dreams, fighting for the life of one of theirs or even worse, begging Jesus for one to fight for and I was complaining about sleepless nights and runny noses.  The Lord sure knows how to teach me tough lessons.  But this one I am grateful for.  You see my friends I never knew.  I honestly took for granted my first two babies.  Are they a miracle? Yes.  Did I have a clue what a miracle really was? Nope. 

But now I see them completely different.  The way they talk, the way they sleep, the way they walk and move and dance.  I think about that little boy that I buried and imagine what he would have been like and it makes me smile and then I cry and then I see Josie.  It's like the Lord brought Josie early as a gift. No it isn't LIKE that, it IS that.  He gave her to us so that we would have a glimpse of exactly what He can do in His time, His way.  And we have watched her, day after day, hour after hour, sometimes minute after minute as He has held her in His hand and given her breath, health, life.  I have seen His ways in full force like I never imagined I would get to.  I have witnessed His presence in a way that I only thought was possible when I stand before Him one day. And now what that will be like is beyond more than I can comprehend.  Because what this is like was beyond more than I could imagine, until it was here, until she was here. 

And so I run myself ragged from here to there.  Driving, pumping, caring for my girls that reside at Golden Meadow Lane while anticipating the next time I am with the one that lives at Centennial Medical Center.  I run myself ragged and I smile and I pray and I praise because I know.  I know that there are parents that don't have what I have.  I know there are parents that have lost the fight in the NICU on the 7th floor of the Women's Center.  I know that the parents of  Daniel would give anything to be as tired as I am.  That his mama would love to be worrying about IF she would have enough milk WHEN he comes home.  I know that Gavin's daddy wishes he was as tired as Josie's daddy.  He wishes that he was still sleeping with his phone by the bed just in case Gavin needed him in the middle of the night.  I know that Gavin's mama wishes that her baby weight was worth every pound she was trying desperately to hold onto because Gavin was growing and healthy like Josie and maybe just maybe one day would be able to nurse. 

I realize now, more than ever, that all of the things that are frustrating about being a mommy to healthy kids and to one that you are fighting for are gifts.  Nothing but grace and mercy at it's finest my friends.  And so I will be tired and I will smile.  I will be sore and I will pump.  I will drive everyday and I will sing and rejoice at what He has done for me and the gifts He has graced me with knowing that they are precious and realizing that they are not necessarily forever. 

We are nine weeks deep in the fight of our lives, in the fight for hers.  And we know, we know we are not through.  We know that is it still not a guarantee that she will live with us on Golden Meadow Lane.  We are grateful for every single moment of the last nine weeks.  We have both soaked up the time with her.  We have held her and sang to her and read to her and prayed over her and told her what we know: Jesus loves her, mama and daddy love her and she is amazing.  And for the next seven or eight or ten weeks we will tell her that, everyday. We will love her as much as you can possibly love a person, with everything we have and every moment that we can give her will be hers.  And maybe, just maybe He will let us keep her.  Maybe she will grow up with these two beautiful miracles He has already let us have.  But either way, she will be the single most amazing person we have ever touched.  She will be the greatest miracle we have ever seen.  She will be the one who showed us who Jesus really is, almost as if she introduced us to Him herself. 

Thank you for continuing to pray for our miracle.
Melanie

There Are No Words.

It is 10:37 PM.  I have two little girls sleeping in the room across the hall, neither of which feels well.  My husband is filling up his tank at a nearby gas station and heading to Centennial Women's Center, the temporary home of our youngest.  I am sitting on my bed, knot in my stomach, mouth dry, waiting on a call from nurse Laura to hear what the next steps are for Josie and how big of a step back we have taken.  Honestly if I was a drinker I would be on my third glass of wine. A smoker, on my fourth cigarette.  A stress eater, through at least a pint of Ben and Jerry's.  But instead, in some weird way my addiction of choice is writing.  And so I write. 

Often, more often lately, I hear from people who love me, mostly women.  They tell me how strong I am and what an inspiration my faith is.   I wonder if they are really listening, reading, watching me.  Because friends, I am a mess.  I am a complete and utter weak mess of a mama.  I haven't taken a full breath in five weeks.  The only reason I eat is because I force myself so that Josie Hope has food.  I cannot sleep.  My stomach is sick.  I can barely talk on the phone too anyone close too me.  Every time my daddy calls I fall apart.  I haven't spoken to my brother but once in a month so as to avoid the same response.  And on Friday I drove from the hospital to Doc's office and I sat in his lobby a cried for 20 minutes.  Poor Doc.  The strength that I do have I use to get up, to pump, and to take care of my girls at home.  Honestly, I didn't even realize that you could be as tired as I am and still walk, much less function as a mother and a wife (sorta).

And so tonight, as my husband left he prayed for our sweet girl and headed to see her.  I checked on the two running fevers asleep in their room and then I hit my knees. I was all tapped out.  There was nothing to say. He already knows what I want and what I need.  So instead I just cried with my head on the carpet until I felt enough relief in the pit of my stomach to get up again.  

There are no words for what is happening in my home, in my heart.  There are no words for the loss of our sweet boy. There are no words for what is happening in the hearts of those affected by the tragedy in CT. There are no words for Hunter's mama and daddy.  There are no words for what the parents of Harrison Hudson have gone through. There are no words for parents who bury children or families who lose loved ones to violence.  There is only Jesus.  The only hope that any of us have who are fighting or who have lost their fight is in Him.  A beautiful, matchless Saviour who lives in a kingdom where there is no death or pain or fear or sickness.  A kingdom that is filled with the children that we miss.  A kingdom that I will one day call home as I hold my precious little boy whom I am certain has his daddy's dimples.

So tonight as I sit and write and wait for news about my sweet, tiny, beautiful miracle I will cry out to Him.  I will beg Him for peace in my heart and for breath in the sweet little girls lungs.  And I know, without a doubt, that He hears me.  He may not answer just the way I would like Him too or as quickly as I would like.  But He is listening. He loves me.  He loves her. He made Josie Hope and she is here only by His hand and for that I will praise Him. Even though I am weak and a mess, I will find strength in Him when I need it knowing I can do ALL THINGS through Him who gives me strength.  He is my strength and my inspiration. Without Him I am nothing. 

Thank you for praying.  We are humbled by your love. 
Melanie