Counting Blessings

Amidst the alarms, sensors, cords, and flashing lights of NICU, the world can seem to spin. Some days it is difficult to remain optimistic. In the middle of measuring bottles, weighing diapers, analyzing skin color, lung sounds, blood vessels--analyzing everything-- it is easy to become focused on your own situation and let everything else fade into obscurity.

But when I raise my head and things come into focus, I realize just how blessed we are. The Lord has truly performed miracles in our life. While I cuddle my tiny, perfect son I can often hear shuffling feet and low voices in other rooms where things are not going so well. When I get discouraged because Brennon's little heart and lungs struggle to keep up with the demands of living outside the womb too soon, I look across the hall at the little ones who have machines breathing for them. Many little ones around us are battling infection, and their parents have to wear a mask, cap, and gown just to visit them. Some cry constantly because their tiny nerves are so immature that even the touch of their blankets causes pain.

I hid behind a curtain and bawled my eyes out the other night as I witnessed a mother silently hold her baby girl who had been in NICU since November and was still needing to be transferred for higher level care. She was saying goodbye. Because of the distance she was being transfered, they would not have the resources to visit often.

I look around, and I am humbled and awed at how blessed we are--at how much we have been spared and how much we have been given. We are exhausted, overwhelmed, inarticulate, and unsure, but so grateful.

Post-pregnancy Hormones

I hereby retract any statements I have ever made or thoughts I have ever had against the validity of pregnancy/post-pregnancy hormones. I am just going to be open with everyone. Hormones are crazy. Beyond my wildest imagination. Since Brennon's birth, I have been so emotional I don't know myself.

I am that woman who cries at commercials (on the RADIO), gets snappy and grouchy over little things, giggles for no reason, and experiences a level of joy she could never have imagined when she looks at her little one's face.

I laugh at myself often, because I was sure I would never be like this. I am humbled, baffled, and amused by my state.

I have mostly lost the ability to keep track of time (including what day it is). I cannot remember anything of significance. I forget to do what I say I will do, lose track of things in my hands, forget to eat...the list goes on.

Yet I can remember the last time Brennon did pretty much anything. I have lost my ability to interpret social cues, yet I can tell exactly what the noise he is currently making means. (Mostly) The human body is a marvellous invention. The creation, growth, birth, and nurturing of a child is an undeniable miracle. I'm pretty sure any argument against God can be shut down by the (extremely articulate) statement: "But, babies."

Parenthood is a huge sacrifice--bigger than I could have grasped before we had Brennon. But I'll gladly give up some of my sleep, my dignity, even my sanity to be a part of the mind-blowing miracle that is Brennon's life. And I'll do it with hands raised in praise to God. Only His awesome, limitless, slightly mischievous, and absolutely GOOD mind could come up with a plan like this.

Unexpected Benefits

It is healthy to look at all sides of a situation. In that spirit, Michael and I were commenting the other day on the unexpected benefits of having your first baby in NICU. Since we are completely new parents, we get to benefit from the wealth of knowledge and skill our NICU team has. They, both on purpose and unconsciously, teach us techniques and tricks of the trade. We have learned comfort techniques; diapering, feeding, and clothing tricks; ways to combat gas, reflux, and a host of other baby rearing skills from a myriad of expert sources. And on top of being experts, NICU nurses are, in general, some of the nicest people on the planet; and they love on those babies as if they were their own.

There are plenty of things that make having a baby in NICU emotionally and physically exhausting, but there are some bright sides too. We still feel, like any new parents, overwhelmed and underqualified, but I will say that it is kind of like having a host of personal parenting tutors. While having a preemie adds countless new worries and struggles to the parenting spectrum, the NICU team really help relieve some common stresses of parenting and help carry the load. With our NICU team, our friends and family, and our Savior on our side, we don't have much to worry about, really.

Also, we have this bundle of cuteness.

We Are Grateful

Michael and I have a big "thank you" to say to our family by blood, our family in Christ, and our friends who have yet to be added to the family. (There is plenty of room, by the by.) They prayed us through our crises, rejoiced with us in the joy of Brennon's birth, and continue to uplift and support us. They have been there for us through every step of this journey, and I know they will be there cheering us on through Brennon's first year at home. As we look ahead to the many appointments, rules, and hand washings that await us in the next year, it is a comfort to know that our family, both by blood and by faith, are so supportive. (On a side note, our parents and my sisters have been amazing and so helpful.)

We want our brothers and sisters in Christ to know that your prayers have effected miracles not only in our little one's life but also in ours. They have encouraged us and strengthened us to meet each day with a smile. They have reminded us to lean on God as our strength and to praise Him in all things.

Not only have you prayed for us, you have gone out of your way to bless us. An encouraging word, a text, a considerately-planned visit, a surprise gift, an adorable shower, a note just because-- the list of things you have done to encourage us could go on for a lot longer.

So thank you, family and friends. Thank you for being there when we need you. Thank you for giving us space when we need that too. Thanks for the little things, for the generosity, for the time you spend. Thank you for the whispered prayers and quiet acts we don't even know about. Without you all, this climb would be a whole lot steeper. We are forever indebted and indescribably grateful. 

                                  Our little guy :) 

A Song That Encouraged Me Today

I was encouraged by this today. It really spoke to what Michael and I were going through a few weeks ago and the healing process we are still experiencing. I love the many ways God speaks.

Danny Gokey-Tell Your Heart To Beat Again

The Art of Letting Go

I was talking to a close friend the other day about how much I have already had to learn to let go of and give into God's hands during my limited parenting experience. Through this experience, I have had to learn to be more dependent on family, my spouse, strangers, and God, especially.

I thought I had some control over what my birth experience was going to be like: I had no control. I thought I had big decisions to make regarding my child's first few months: I have had to relinquish my plans. I imagined things being orderly: They have been chaos. I thought I could do it on my own: In many ways, I am as helpless as my little baby. 

It feels as if I have been pulled into the mythological whirlpool Charybdis-- sucked in, then spewed back out. Then I reach out and cling to the branch of God's Word, and for a moment the world stops spinning. 

When I look back on my life, I realize that this state of things is not entirely new. It seems as if I'm often in over my head, plunged into circumstances that threaten to overwhelm me. Then at the moment I feel that, like Peter walking on the Sea of Galilee, I am sinking, I feel Jesus' firm grasp on my hand, pulling me up. And I hear Him ask me "Why did you doubt?" 

That's the issue--not my strength or my righteousness or my with-it-ness but my faith. God is continually placing me in circumstances that force me to depend on Him, because I really try hard to do it on my own, and my desire for autonomy from God is a form of self-worship. 

I, like Eve in the garden, want to "be like God." And until God recieves every last ounce of my worship, He will not be satisfied. That's what makes Him a jealous God. He won't let us remain in our selfishness undisturbed, because all sin separates us from Him, and what He longs for, more than anything else, is for making to return to harmony with Him. He is jealous of our love. The more I get to know Him, the more every single metaphor He uses to describe Himself fits. He is our father, our lover, our friend, our shepherd, and yet He is the Supreme Creator of the universe. It is mind boggling how He can be all of these extremes, but He is. That's why His name is "I am," because He is beyond words. 

So here I am, a fledgling bird in the nest, accepting God's gifts greedily but crying when He gives me a nudge out. I must remember that He knows best. If I always remain safe and snuggly in the nest, I'll never learn to fly. 

So I'll take the comfortable with the uncomfortable from God, trusting Him to work all things for my good. I'll set my little one at His feet. Then, when I discover I have picked him back up, I will hand him over again, because it is only in the arms of God he will ever be safe. And when it is time for Brennon to learn to fly himself, I hope I will nudge him toward Heaven with a prayer. 

Baby Smiles

From the first day we met him, Michael and I have been struck by the wide variety of facial expressions Brennnon employs. His eyes were open when he was born (28 week babies' eyes are often still fused shut), so that probably contributes. He doesn't cry often, but he certainly lets you know what he is feeling through his expressions. He has also started turning his head toward our voices or opening his eyes when we call his name, some of the time. It's pretty cute.

Michael and I have been thoroughly entertained by the uncanny timing of many of his facial expressions. The first time it happened, I said "If he were" in a sentence; then the English teacher in me came out and I looked at Brennon and said, "Now that's Subjunctive mood, Brennon. You'll know ALL about that soon. Just as I said that, Brennon smiled really big. Of course, we found that adorable. It was just perfect timing.

Since then, Brennon's facial expressons have seemed to match our conversation many times. He smiled and wiggled when Michael said, "mommy's a scary monster" because I had my nursing cover pulled over my head. He scrunched up his face when I called him a "preemie." He smirked when we called him ''too cute."

Something that happens quite often is that, when we are holding him, he often smiles when we laugh. It has happened multiple times. He must like the bounce of a belly laugh.

I guess I expected a preemie to be groggy, listless, and lacking personality for a while, but boy was I wrong. :)