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. :)

Super Baby

So something I didn't know about preemies (Okay, that's just about everything, but...): they can be super babies. Brennon, for example, was born at just that period of development in which his muscles are all developed and gaining strength, but he has put on very little fat. As a result, you have a tiny little monkey who can raise his head, his backside and half his body, and even roll over. This kid has hit some serious milestones already!

However, the Super Baby Phase will be short lived, according to his nurses. As he puts on weight, his muscle to fat ratio will change and he will have to rebuild strength to do all of that all over again.

In the mean time, he affords us a hearty dose of entertainment. One of his nurses told us that, the other morning, she had turned her back just for a minute, and he had escaped from his swaddle and wiggled himself against the door of the isolette. He was contentedly snoozing when she returned.

It is always fun to witness the morning briefing of a nurse who has never cared for him before. The nurse who is signing off will invariably warn him or her to wrap Brennon well. The nurse will nod and move on. Without fail, about 30 minutes after the new nurse repositions him, the nurse will exclaim when he or she opens the isolette at the uncouth position Brennon has achieved.

              Here's a scary one from the other day.

He likes his freedom. The moment after we unwrap him for touch time (the dedicated time for changing diapers, feeding, etc.), he has sprawled out as big as possible, while yawning even bigger. He's going to be a handful. :)

The Crazy Medicine

I mentioned in a previous post that, in addition to the many family, friends, and friends of friends who had been praying for us, some of the medical staff was praying as well. A rather comical and very uncomfortable incident led to my knowledge of this fact.

On the day before my c-section, I had not had any food for a while, but I was throwing up stomach acid, which was not fun. Because of my discomfort, a kind nurse gave me some anti-nausea medication. This well-intentioned act had some interesting results. I had a reaction to the medication. It made me crazy. Like seriously crazy. I saw cart wheels as alligators and bright, swirly colors on the walls. I could hardly contain my need get out of my bed and escape the room, even though my various tubes and cords would have made that deleterious.

For someone wholly unaccustomed to such a state of mind, this experience was terrifying. Just as the reaction was taking hold, my mother and a pastor from my parents' church came in. They prayed for me. After this, my mom, dad, and sisters prayed for me as well, as the nurse stood by my side. As they prayed, the reaction began to subside, and I sank into a stupor.

As a result of that experience, I had an eye-opening conversation with that nurse, Lori. She told me that the night when I had the reaction, she had been praying for me as well. She told me that reaction usually lasts much longer, and she believed I had been healed in front of her. She said it was encouraging to her, since she and her family are getting ready to leave as full time missionaries to Haiti. She saw my healing as evidence that God still works in obvious, powerful ways through prayer.

I was able to share with her a little bit about my two trips to Haiti. We talked about home school curriculum. Then she told me that my anesthesiologist, Roseann, was a Christian as well and had been praying for me during my c-section. I had wondered why her presence was so comforting to me. It was amazing to me to see that God had placed people so perfectly to encourage me and so that I could encourage them. It helped me see God's purpose in my pain a little more clearly.

Our Little Miracle

Every child is a miracle. Ours was just an especially obvious one. After my blood pressure skyrocketed with sudden onset HELP syndrome, we watched God do one small miracle after another, preserving both my life and the life and health of our little boy.

At the hospital in Pittsburg, my blood pressure was out of control, in spite of the doctor's best efforts. When drugs couldn't fix it, and truly dire options had to be considered, God stabilized me. He preserved me through a long wait for an ambulance because no helicopter could fly in the weather and the flooding caused delays. He helped me through a bumpy ride in an ambulance over the only roads that weren't flooded at the time.

God (working through my O.B.) sent me to a doctor who was extremely skilled in dealing with serious situations. He was the absolute best person I could have seen under the circumstance. The staff in Joplin were prepared to take the baby when I was wheeled in the doors. My doctor assessed the situation and decided we could wait a couple of hours to give Brennon more time on the steroids that would help his little lungs develop.

At the time, my platelet levels were still very low, making surgery extremely dangerous. However, my kidney and liver were on the verge of shutting down, which could also kill me. The doctor referred to it as a balancing act-- waiting for Brennon's lungs to develop and my platelet levels to rise witout waiting too long and putting me in danger in other ways.

The hours went by. I was poked more times than I could count (true story). The surgery would be in a few hours. Another test: We can wait a couple more hours. Another test: Let's hold off a little longer--her platelet levels are rising. Next day: We are going to try to wait until tonight. That night. The surgery will be either during the night or at 9 in the morning.

Every time they put that surgery off, we praised God. Openly. The whole floor of medical staff knew we were Christians. That hospital room, the waiting room, and the hallways were filled with prayer. (Even some of the medical staff were praying, but that's another post). Prayers were going up all over the world. And it made a difference. A big one.

We firmly believe that we were upheld every moment of the experience by the hands of God because of the prayers of His people. Every rise in my platelet levels, every moment my organs held on, were all thanks to the prayers covering us.

The night before the surgery, they briefed us on what was going to happen. I would be put completely under for the surgery, because they would have to do major bleeding control and possibly a blood transfusion. Michael would have to stay in the waiting room. My 28 week old baby would be born, immediately intubated, and rushed away to NICU, where doctors would perform life-saving procedures, possibly including a blood transfusion.

The next morning, the anesthesiologist came in with a smile on her face. She informed me that she couldn't make any promises, but my platelet levels were high enough this morning that she was going to attempt a spinal block, which meant I might not have to go completely under. (In other words, the surgery's danger level had gone WAY down.)

In the operating room, everything went like clockwork. I was able to stay awake. Michael got to stay with me, and the surgery progressed without incident (other than my "extra wide smiley face" as the doctor put it because Brennon was sideways.)

They got Brennon out. There were faint cries, then a loud wail. Then there was a long pause. After a few seconds, a surprised nurse asked, "Daddy, do you want to come see him?" Michael said the nurses didn't know what to do with him. He was okay. No long term intubation. No ventilator. No blood transfusion. APGAR score of 4 at birth and 9 after 5 minutes. At 28 weeks! I got to see him before they took him to NICU. Except for regular little issues with having a preemie, he is still doing great. They warned us of a crash after the "honeymoon period"-- never happened. So many other possibilities-- lung failure, brain bleeds, various other things-- he has been spared thus far.

Michael got this picture in the operating room.

He has been dubbed a miracle over and over, even by the medical staff. They say things like, "He doesn't act like a 28 weeker" and "My, you have personality for your age."

We still have a long journey ahead of us, and I won't say I don't struggle with fear and disheartenment at times. I do. But I will say with another worried parent, "Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief"! (Mark 9:24.)

Thank you to all of those who have prayed for us: friends, family, and family in Christ. We are so grateful and so blessed!

God Moments

It's amazing how your entire world can transform in a moment. Just another day can become the day that changed your life quicker than you can imagine. We take for granted that we have things under control. We say "God I trust you," but deep inside we are saying "God, I got this." It's no wonder, then, that, when things spiral out of control, our first questions are for God. I wonder if he answered our rapid fire questions in kind whether we would like the answers. Would the conversation sound something like this?

"God, why?"

"Because I want you to depend on me, not yourself. I want to use this circumstance to draw you closer to me and to draw others to me as well."

"God, what do I do?"
"Trust me."

"Why did you let this happen?"
"You will see in time, even though it doesn't make sense now. I love you, and I'm working all things for your good."

"How will this end?"
"If I told you now, you wouldn't have to trust me. But no matter what, you're with me?"

I don't know about anybody else, but I find God's answers to my questions rather frustrating at times. And his answers to my prayers...they can be even more baffling.

Beginning nine days ago, Michael and I's world was turned upside down, shaken around, and set back down again in a confused mess. But it's a beautiful mess, and I want to share it. I'm wordy, so I'm going to give it to you in bits.

On Monday, December 28, Michael took me to a routine prenatal visit for our 28 week old son. On Wednesday, December 30, at 10:01 A.M., Brennon David Morris entered the world kicking and screaming--tiny, but beautiful and healthy. The moments in between and after those two events have been some of those most life-changing, heart-wrenching, and awe-inspiring ones of our lives. In the middle of it all, I have to say this: God is amazing.

Let me tell you what He has done.

First, God scheduled my doctor's visit. He arranged the timing so that I would be at the O.B. at just the right moment for him to catch my sudden spike in blood pressure as my body suddenly rejected what had been up to that point a perfectly healthy pregnancy with no sign of trouble whatsoever. From the time my doctor examined me until I was admitted to the hospital, I, and through me my child, had gone from asymptomatic to being in serious danger. My blood pressure levels were skyrocketing, and I was at serious risk for stroke or seizure. If I had not had an appointment at that time, Brennon and I might not be here. Praise the Lord for His timing.

The second thing God did was give my doctor wisdom and my body strength. I didn't know it at the time, but my husband was asked to make some very difficult decisions, and so was my doctor. BUT God stabilized me when medicine could do no more.

Next, God placed me where He wanted me in the care of just the right people. It was too stormy to fly and too flooded to drive, but after a long wait and an unconventional ambulance ride, I ended up a a hospital filled with experts who had the skills to handle my situation. God worked through them and alongside them to save our lives.  I will write some other time about my doctor and nurses more in depth.

Then, God touched my body, enabling it to withstand trauma and even build strength when it should have been impossible for it to do so, in order to nurture my little one through another day of development and give him strength to survive outside of the womb. The miraculous way He worked in my body had even non-Christians involved in the situation calling it a miracle.

God also surrounded us with the support of friends and family. We were covered with prayer from all over the world, and it made all the difference. The prayer that surrounded us made an impact on those witnessing the situation for God's glory.

Finally, He touched Brennon's body. He was dubbed "The Miracle Baby" and "Rockstar" in the NICU. PLENTY more on that later. :)

(This is one of my favorite pictures, by the way.) ;)

God has been with us through every step, making His love and His presence known, and all we can be is grateful. We have a long journey ahead, but we are learning to trust Him more each day. We are truly blessed.

A Cup of Coffee Amid Chaos

As I begin this post, I am sedately drinking a cup of coffee at my favorite coffee shop. My husband is sitting across from me, and we are chatting peacefully about very ordinary things--the weather,  paint colors, the croissant we are sharing.

To look at us, a stranger would think it was just another ordinary moment in an average couple's lives. Little could said stranger know that this ordinary couple's universe has been careening wildly through chaos for the last nine days and has finally come to a jolting halt in a moment of "normal." We sit there trying to find our bearings as the world seems still to sway underneath us.

I am vaguely aware of the rhythmic rush of blood through my veins as I grope for something stable to brace my unsteady thoughts. *Thump *Thump. God's good. *Thump *Thump. Praise Him. My thanks to God echo with every heartbeat, as I find myself more aware than ever before that God is granting my every moment.

It has been some time since I posted any "musings." There has been a lot of water under the bridge since then. Doug is gone. So is a little life of only a few weeks Michael and I created together. Since my last post, I have had many opportunities to test whether I believe what I said in my last entry about God's purpose through pain. As I reread my last post, I can confidently say that I believe every word I wrote back then.

In the last nine days, Michael and I transformed with little warning from excited parents contentedly preparing for our child's arrival in three months to overwhelmed new parents, living in a different city and caring for our premature son, who was born at 28 weeks, in a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.

We are grateful to be together--grateful for our son's survival. And yet, as we celebrate these gifts, we are mourning the loss of Michael's Grandpa Ernie and my Aunt Myrna. That's a lot to take in. No wonder we feel wobbly on our intellectual feet, as if we just stopped spinning.

In the insanity that has been our lives for the last nine days, the one firm place we have been able to stand has been on God's promises. We have seen His hand at work in every situation, and, even through our pain, we are overflowing with praise for Him.

In the next few blog posts, I will tell you a little about my and my little one's new lease on life. I'll share some pictures as well, since they seem to be in high demand. I hope our story will inspire you to say, as I can't help but do, "Praise the Lord!"