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Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Craziness Example

This is just a follow-up to the last post.

After 3 days of numbers that pretty much stayed above 300, I was frustrated.  She was acting increasingly goofy, as in, lacking in self-control.  She did not have ketones, which is miraculous in itself.  She was not having any obvious sickness symptoms, which is a given that she'll have high numbers and need a higher insulin rate for a few days.  During that time, I had changed her pump twice, thinking I must have given her a bad site that wasn't absorbing well.  I had changed insulin bottles, thinking her older one maybe had gone bad for some unknown reason.  I had given her a shot to correct, to see if that would show me if it was her pump, or just her body needing more insulin than what I was giving her.  I had increased her rates to 120%, then 135% when that wasn't working, then 150% a few hours later.  When that seemed to do nothing, I upped it to 165%, and finally at 9 pm last night, after a few hours at 185% she was at 156 blood sugar, then 121 at 10:00.  I proudly exclaimed, "Hallelujah!"  Then when Joe tested her at midnight she was low, and that was with me dropping the rate down to 170 for the night, because though 185% was finally working, it seemed too high for an entire night.  Ugh!!  I'm expecting her to be high again this morning, because he just cancelled that temporary basal rate in the night...we'll see.  She's still sleeping, which is fine, except when you're a diabetic mommy you can't help but have that thought in the back of your mind that she could be so low in her bed that she's now comatose.  

*sigh*

To add to the craziness are things like taking her to the Allergist for her regular appointment yesterday, and telling him that she might be fighting something because her blood sugar numbers were high.  He asks what I mean by "high," and I told him 200's and 300's (actually mostly 300's, but I felt better throwing in 200's as well).  He gives me his bug-eye shocked look, and says, "That's REALLY high!  What are you doing about that?!"  

Really?  I didn't realize THAT was high!  Wow!  I must really not have a clue about these things!  I apparently don't know the first thing about taking this disease seriously. 

OK, I feel better.  I know he probably wasn't implying that much of failure on me, but it's hard not to hear that in a "REALLY?!!!" sometimes.  I went on to explain in 1 sentence or less that it's part of the "every day is a guessing game routine, and I give her more and more insulin to try to bring her back in range" deal.  

To add to my "mother of the year" award comes moments when I make Sophie feel guilty for actually wanting "more carbs?!!"  As if she is personally responsible for making her blood sugars so high because she wants to eat like normal.  Such a good thing to imply to your daughter who can't help that she has this disease.  I, of course, didn't heap that much guilt on her, but it's hard to keep your feelings out of the way when you've tried everything you can think of and she won't come down.  In my mind the only logical solution at this point is to make her eat nothing but protein, until she gets back in range.  Not a popular idea with a growing 8-year-old.  

Well, she's awake now.  Not that I was really worried...

Off to see what today holds!


Monday, June 6, 2011

Diabetes...Mommy the Pancreas

It's been a while since I've discussed Sophia's darn disease. It's going ok, all things considered.  I took her to the doc today for her quarterly check-up.  Her A1C was 7.5%.  I was kind of bummed.  It's actually a good number for a growing child.  Her doctor is always kind and encouraging, and says "she's just perfect," like every time.  It was up .3% from last time, and I really expected it to have gone down.  Maybe it's just a mind game I play, or maybe it's comparison to other diabetic kids with better #'s, but I really felt like I had been on top of the numbers and she was going to be below 7 this time.  FYI...the ideal range is between 5-7%.  You and I are 5 or lower.  

It's a daily responsibility to guess appropriately everything she eats and make sure she gets the carbs put into her pump.   Then if her blood sugar numbers are normal (I don't worry much if they're below 150), then we rest easy and are thankful that she's getting the correct insulin that she needs.  But most days have a number that's over 200 at some point, and then if I'm not doing 20 other things and can wrap my brain around it, I need to check if her last carbs were even entered (in other words, did Sophie put the carbs in her pump, which then administered the right amount of insulin?).  If they were, then I need to think about if I guessed the carbs wrong. If I'm certain I didn't, then I watch for her next number to see if it's high.  If she's not coming down with corrections, then I need to see if her insulin is old.  If not, does she need a site change because the current one isn't correcting well?  If all those things are ruled out, then after a day or two of higher numbers I need to put her on a temporary increase, and that's a guess of adding 20% more all day to an extra 90% if she's sick.  

Then you add weird factors like this was birthday weekend for she and Jossie, and so there was added stress, and added sugar (yay for cake!!), and she was high all weekend.  Then factor in added exercise, which should be making her low and very often does during the summer.  So many things to analyze on a daily basis.  Never a day off for a mommy of a diabetic.  The most difficult decisions are definitely in the middle of the night.  Joe, bless his heart, hasn't slept decently since Jude was born.  He sacrifices his sleep almost nightly to get up and test her, correct her, take her to the bathroom, etc.  (If she's running high then her urine output is much higher, which can lead to wet beds).  Often he'll try to wake me and ask what he should do about a correction or not.  I am so foggy-headed...especially if I'm not the one who got up to test her.  I make bad decisions sometimes in those moments, because I just can't think about it.  She occasionally wakes up low in the mornings (below 70), but never at a scary number, so I'm thankful we've never truly put her in danger with too much insulin in the night.

To add to frustration sometimes, her behavior gets much worse by day 2 or three of higher numbers.  That would be today.  She just struggles to use a calm voice, or struggles to be reasonable.  It's very challenging, because we know why she's out of control, and yet we have to teach her to try to control her behavior and trust us to help her make good decisions.  I wish I could give that disclaimer when in public, but it is what it is. 

It sounds negative, which I'm not trying to be.  I'm thankful to be her Mommy...and her pancreas!  I'm in love with that girl.  She has an inner beauty that is hard to beat.  She has grown and matured so much in the last year.  She truly is a great helper with her baby brother, and he totally adores her.  She has overcome many fears, and has gotten very strong physically.  She has become a fantastic gymnast, and is learning to swim...even jumped off of the high dive last week in swim lessons.  Ok, she's a little bitter about that one.  

God is so good to us in it all.  I see His hand in so much of her life.  I see His strength in all of us never giving up on keeping her healthy.  I feel His grace to keep believing and in keeping an attitude of overcoming, not one of being victims.  

He didn't choose this for her, but He can make beauty from the ashes of our bodies and souls...and He does.  

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Scarwy Ol' Cow and Repressed Violence

Noni-isms...

A couple of weeks ago I took the girls to a dairy farm for some fresh raw milk.  We purposely went when they would be milking the cows so we could see them.  We bought our milk and then went over to the big building with the big windows to watch outside while the milk flowed freely into the big clear pipes to the big steel drum.  Norah expressed  a little concern, which I promptly ignored as the man opened the door and said we could view a little closer...not in the building, but at the door.

I was excited.  I turned to ask the girls what they thought and saw I was missing a Noni (AKA Norah).  I looked through the window to see her running back to the car.  She was quickly retrieved and still none too excited about the cows and well, downright scared.  

Later that night I asked her why she was so scared of the cows, and she replied in all seriousness, "because, they can jump over the moon!"

Her reasoning was sound.

Then, last week, she had a rough encounter with a stray dog.  It mostly scared her and was being playful, but jumped on her, sent her screaming, and sent many people out of downtown buildings to see what was all the commotion.  A security guard finally secured the dog and walked it away from us.  Later in the evening during bedtime the older two were talking about how they hoped nothing bad happened to that dog.  Norah paused from drinking her bottle, and said, "I hope he takes the dog to a lake with lots of alligators and the alligators eat him."  Back to drinking the bottle.

Yep.  Straight to the special death.  Don't all 3-year-olds think this way?  I promise we don't watch violent shows...

Ahh...love that funny girl.

Saturday, February 26, 2011

A Weird Sort of Round

So we're driving the other day and trying to stop the whining about how we won't turn on a show while we drive 10 minutes across town.  We decide to sing a little tune or two.  

Jossie suggests "As the Deer Panteth for the Water..."  So, we oblige.  

Ah...lovely holy moment.  Basking in the sweetness.

Then she suggests "Lord Prepare Me."  So again...revving up our sweet moment, we're singing as a family..

Lord prepare me to be a sanctuary...pure and holy...tried and true."

Suddenly in the background, my sweet 3-year-old breaks into a round of sorts with her own song, timed just right.  You know, like right with the "pure and holy."

She sings her most heartfelt words:

If you wanna be my wover, gotta get wif my fwiends.

For those who may be unaware, yes, that's Spice Girls, and the words are "If you wanna be my LOVER, gotta get with my friends."  

Cue the Gasp!! from my mother.

It's from our Just Dance Wii game.

Whatever!

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Bleckity Blu

Sophia has the flu.

Sigh

If you've not heard before, it's apparently really bad for diabetics to get the flu.  They're in the "high-risk" category who should always get their flu shots.  Well, we did.  Back in November, in fact.  We try to protect the whole family to lessen the likelihood of her possibly getting it.  I even found our allergy clinic offered them without thimerosol, which is the bad preservative with mercury in it that most flu shots do contain.  So diligent of me.  Or so I assumed.

When she woke up with a fever on Wednesday, I decided to take her in to the doc.  One, because she normally doesn't get a fever with a cold, and two, because though I would normally wait out  a fever for a few days with my kids, my doctor has convinced me that with diabetes she just needs to be seen, as secondary infections can be much worse for her.  I was shocked to hear that she had the flu after they ran the test.  How could this be?  We all had the flu shot.  She said most of the positive cases she was seeing were people who had gotten the shot.  

Great.

My heart sank a little.

Of course I'm wondering how many more of us will get this, and how bad will it be.  The worst common illness I've seen has been the flu.  About 12 years ago Joe got a bad case of it.  He had really high fevers and a wicked cough and was literally delirious for a  few days.  I wasn't a mom and didn't know about alternating tylenol and motrin.  Ever since then, I roll my eyes at people claiming they have "the flu" with every cold.  If you have the flu, you can't take a little cold medicine and show up at work.  It's a really nasty illness.

And it has proven to be one of the most challenging illnesses to battle with diabetes for my little gal.  I know I've stated before that every cold, sinus infection, growth spurt, allergic reaction, moment of stress, etc., causes her blood sugars to be high and difficult to manage.  High blood sugars cause organ damage, and can cause hospitalization if uncontrolled and her body becomes toxic.  

Well, I can change the rate she gets insulin on her pump. She's at 100% normally, and when she gets ill, I sometimes run a temporary rate of anywhere from 120%-140%.  This week, I've had her at 200%, and couldn't get her numbers below the 300's.  I couldn't rest knowing she was just stuck so high, no matter how often I gave her a correction dose, and it wouldn't let me go higher than 200%.  300s are bad.  Normal people run between 70-120 all of the time.  And apparently we all need more insulin when sick, but our bodies just do that.  Oh the things we take for granted that are just natural processes in our bodies.  I finally called the on-call doctor at our diabetes clinic the other night, because I couldn't figure out what to change.  She helped me make all kinds of changes on her pump, and she's getting a LOT of insulin now, but she's out of the scary range.  We're having to test more frequently and still make a lot of adjustments, but I believe she's on the mend and doing better at this point.

You know, the other thing that really weighed on me is all of the mindless comments people make, unaware of how it affects me being a parent of a diabetic.  To be fair, sometimes it's news stories as well, but often it's people who just say things like, "Well, there were [x-number] of deaths from the flu last year, but a lot of those were people like diabetics." Or, "Oh so-and-so died recently.  Sad because he still should have had some years in him, but you know he had diabetes. So, that's how it goes, I guess"   

Really?

Really.

I'm not sure how you say things like that to a mother of a diabetic...especially in ear shot of my diabetic sweetie. (I seriously can't count how many times that's happened). I know the risks, and yet, I don't need to have this constant reminder that my child has to work really hard her entire life to have health and avoid being  just another diabetic statistic.  Why those flu deaths don't really count because a large number were diabetics, is beyond me too.  They count.  They're people.  And in case anyone has forgotten, my daughter didn't cause Type 1 diabetes.  NO amount of dieting, exercise, etc. will cause it to go away.  It is a genetic disease.  It's something most people still don't understand: the difference between type 1 and type 2.  I can't tell you how often I feel judged when I tell a stranger that my daughter is a "type 1 diabetic."  I try to explain she didn't cause it and can't make it go away, but then get a response like I'm just trying to make excuses.  

(Sorry to vent.  I'm not saying you-the-reader feels this way, but I had to get it off my chest.)

So yes, my anxiety levels were up this week a bit because of these sorts of statements and statistics. 

But, I know I have more to stand on than accepted "statistics."  

Our doctor has said that as far as long-term statistics go, she has less than a 3% chance of having organ damage if her numbers are in good control.  THAT is something I can live with.  It means as parents, we can never grow weary of working hard to keep her in good control, but we were given her for a reason, and I think we can bear that burden with Joy.

We also stand on the fact that God has made her and designed her, and has a plan for her life.  He is our protector, our healer, our comforter and friend.  And in all these things we trust.

Joe and I were just discussing how she so rarely even gets ketones, which are the bad things that occur in blood/urine when numbers are high.  It's a bit miraculous as far as we know.  

Our prayer is that we can continually release our anxiety over these things knowing God has her in His palm.  

Friday, December 17, 2010

OK, so I had this baby...

It really happened.  

I thought it might not.

I had a baby.

Really.  I thought I might be pregnant forever.  I've had this thought before, but when you're 5 days overdue with your 4th, you do start giving credence to thoughts that this beach ball might just be a permanent feature.  And I might just be the most miserable person in summertime for the rest of my life.

Did I mention that this was "the hottest summer on record" in our lovely town, according to our local meteorologist?  Disgustingly hot!  I try not to complain.  But, it just became impossible to hold my tongue on the misery I felt by the end of August.  Of course, it never helps when I convince myself, that due to my obvious hugeness and the heat that's just killing me...I'll definitely go 2-3 weeks early.  

Dumb.

If you're pregnant, just don't do that to yourself.  

So, the night of the 4th, I thought I was in labor, but I had thought this many times before in the previous few weeks.  I tearfully decided to go to the hospital, but was convinced that they would surely send me back.  

They didn't like my contraction rate and sent me walking.  

In my lovely hospital gown...

Around the lobby.  

Good times.

Who needs modesty?  Just get the baby out.  

So, long and short of it...they kept me.  

I didn't progress too quickly, but then, as I warned them would happen, I went from a 5 to a 10 in 20 minutes.  Sadly, my doctor had gone out of town (really sad, because he had delivered all of my other babies), and the on-call doctor didn't quite feel the need to hurry.  So, at the last minute a friend of ours comes in and says he's the chief resident for the night and would we be okay with him delivering?

I'm a 10.  Going natural.  Get the baby out.  I DON'T CARE!!

Lucky for him, the other doctor showed up.  

And without further details, out came the baby, and since we were waiting to find out, the doctor said, "It's a baby!!"

I didn't care what we had.  The baby was out and crying and looked amazing.  But, in a moment, Joe moved the umbilical cord, and I could feel his tears as he said,

"Honey, it's a boy!"

Jude Nathaniel.  8 lbs 9 oz, 20 inches.  

Jude the Dude.

Juders.

Juderbug.

My sweet, sweet, mama's boy...

Yep.  We're in love.































He's amazing.  I think we'll keep him.

Monday, December 6, 2010

Tears in a Bottle

I've latched onto this verse in Psalms I found the other day.  I love it.  My favorite Bible version is the New Living Translation.  It's not as wordy as the Message, but still puts the words in clear and personal terms.  I think we have a pretty personal God, so it resonates with my heart.

Anyway, I found this verse the other day and felt it was one that would speak to so many people. 

You keep track of all my sorrows.  You have collected all my tears in your bottle.  You have recorded each one in your book.  On the very day I call to you for help, my enemies will retreat.  This I know: God is on my side.  O God, I praise your word.  Yes, Lord, I praise your word.  I trust in God, so why should I be afraid?  Psalm 56:8-10

I just love it.

As Americans we are so good at presenting our false selves.  We want you to like the person we present.  The pretty picture.  The one who has it all together.  The one who says kind things, is funny, successful, a good parent, and feels no pain.  

Why???

It's exhausting being a person you're not.  I probably am too honest for people sometimes (not that I am innocent of false self, by any means).  But, I hate feeling fake.  If you ask me how I'm doing, I can't lie.  If it's been an exhausting day, or I'm feeling rather emotional about my parental successes/failures, I can't pretend it's all OK.  

I have made these incredible friendships in the last couple of years.  People whom I can trust to tell anything and they still just love me.  Sometimes they help steer me, and other times they just listen.  Sometimes they show up with band-aids and chocolate, so you don't have to run out to the store with your four kids.  Seriously.  Good friends.  I love that there are people out there who are so authentic that they love me no matter which self I present.

And when I read this scripture, it assures me that I don't have to present a false self...a pretty picture to God either.  We forget that he knows exactly what we think and feel anyway, so what's the point in trying to fake it with Him?  These verses opened my eyes to how deeply he cares.  He loves our joy and even says that when we choose Joy it is our strength, but he also clearly cares deeply for our sorrows.  So much so that every tear is collected in a bottle.  Every sorrow he records in his book.  And then he gently reminds that if we trust in Him we have nothing to fear.  

I read this to Sophia this morning.  It was very sweet.  She had the sweetest smile as I told her that God is right there caring for her when she's sad.  I said, can you believe He writes down something every time you are sad?  She smiled sweetly.  I said,  I bet it goes something like this..."Ah, sweet Sophia.  I hope you know I'm right here when you're sad.  Always remember that I am on your side. I love you."



Saturday, November 13, 2010

Back From the Fog

OK, I'm back to the land of the living.  More to come later.  I of course have been a little sleepy, but then my blog was messed up for some unknown reason for a while.  I didn't have the energy to fix it.  Will give updates soon.  For now, I'll leave with a preview...


Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Four outfits

That's the average number of outfits I must try on to find something that a) doesn't let my belly completely stick out, and b) doesn't hurt my lower belly so much that I'm confused and think I'm having labor pains, and c) doesn't squeeze my upper belly so much that I can't catch my breath.  

Good Times!!

I'm noticing this familiar trend when I go in public (which is not often these days).  Last night, for instance, I went to Target.  (Don't hate me, I know some of you are boycotting, and that's cool if that's your thing, but they have things that I like, and I can only get them at Target).  I did have to try on a couple of outfits before heading out...nothing fancy, just run-up-to-Target outfits.  Maybe for some of you, that's still a fancy choice, but for places like Wal-Mart and Target, I'm just trying to avoid getting posted on a "People of Walmart" site...that's it for my standard.  And for me that standard right now, simply means a shirt that pretty much covers my belly.  So, I finally settled on some gray jersey shorts, my ghetto "Love is gonna get ya!" shirt (gotta be true to my ghetto roots), and some flip-flops that well, were a little nasty looking, but they were the only things that wouldn't do my feet in while walking the gigantic store (This is Super-Target, not some little Target...sheesh!).

Oh, back to the trend...

I'm being snickered at in public!  I've noticed it several times, and I'm starting to think I'm maybe NOT imagining it.  

Take last night...  I've already mentioned how striking my outfit was, so maybe it was jealousy whispers.  And let's face it, I'm 5'2" and that belly  has no where to go but out.  And, well, I am in pain with almost every step I take, so I am probably wincing a bit.  And as hard as I tried to find the right outfit, those shorts were riding down in the front, leaving nowhere for my hunormous (an old Sophie term) belly to go, and at times was probably slightly exposed.  At the same time, my ability to feel when said belly is exposed to the air...not so great these days.  Sigh...

Now, last night, to be fair, wasn't filled with moms at the store who could at least give me a sympathy glance.  It was filled with college-aged kids who were sort-of hanging out at the super-cool store.  So, I'm sure they can't imagine ever looking so awkward when someday they are starting a family.  But seriously....they were actually covering their mouths, whispering, and looking back at me...oh-so-sly-like.  And then they would often not  move out of my way, because they're that cool.  

Even last weekend, we went to a splash-pad to have a fun family outing before baby's arrival.  I was self-conscious splashing around with my kids anyway...and felt the stares of the non-splashing adults.  And this was another typical day here where the temp was about 105 (not exaggerating).  So, to splash at all takes great effort on my part, and for the most part I wanted to just sit down.  There were several shady spots, but all were occupied.  I was headed over to a freed bench when some lady cut me off and spread her kids towels all over it.  I stood awkwardly nearby thinking she would surely offer me to sit on part of the shaded bench.  It's not like I don't look miserable.  But, no...had to save those spots for her kids who were busy splashing and not sitting.  Finally another bench opens up and I take it!  A few minutes into it, I have to stand up to call for my daughter.  I maybe took 3 steps out, and when I got her attention, turned to sit back down, and some man had grabbed it and spread his kids stuff all over the bench.  I was done.  I should have enlightened them all as to their inconsiderate nature, but instead, I just told my family I couldn't find a shady spot to sit and I couldn't breathe, and it was time to go.  I don't think Joe minded the excuse anyway.  

People are amazing.  I hope to remember these moments and show a lot of mercy and compassion on poor, miserable 9-month pregnant people.  

In the mean time, I hope to make the most out of the couple outfits that still fit.  

I'd post a pic...but I don't want to tempt you to gawk.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Natural Childbirth

WHY???  is what I get from most people.  Then there's the occasional, "Good for you!"

Sigh...

As it gets nearer, I can't help but ask myself the same question, and then hope I can exclaim "Good for Me!" when it's all said and done.  

But, I do have reasons.  

First of all, I had a terrible 1st epidural experience.  If you're a first-time-mom, you maybe shouldn't read this.  At the same time, I felt my experience had a lot to do with the fact that the real facts and risks about epidurals are often glossed over by the medical staff, and so most people go into it only hearing "it's the worst pain ever, why wouldn't you get the epidural?"  And quite frankly, it's a lot easier on the medical professionals when mom is calmly bringing forth her new life, unaware of any trauma to her nether-regions.  

So, in my first experience, I was induced with a cervical pill that put me into hard labor with contractions every 2 minutes from the git-go.  And since all I'd heard was how horrible labor was, I wanted the epidural IMMEDIATELY.  The anesthesiologist comes and starts the procedure.  I feel this pop in my back, and my leg kicks forward on it's own, and I say "I didn't do that," and he says, "uh-oh."  

Not exactly what you want to hear from someone placing a sharp object into your spine!!

As I rolled over and was told I was fine, I started to notice that everything was numb from my chest down.  They didn't like that so much, so quickly sat me up.  Then my blood pressure crashed and my baby's heartbeat dropped significantly.  They quickly put some emergency drugs in my i.v. to correct all that.  I also noticed a headache right away.  The anesthesiologist said, "oh that's just your sinuses."  I told him I didn't have any sinus issues before labor.  When it came time to push, I couldn't feel a thing, and nothing was happening.  It took 2 hours of pushing to get her out.  

Immediately after she was born, I noticed a pretty significant headache.  I spent my day in the hospital hoping it would just go away, and the only thing that seemed to help was to lay as flat as possible with no pillow.  My anesthesiologist even came to visit me...has your's ever done that?  He even called me at home.  I think maybe he suspected he had screwed up.  

Then I spent the next 5 days  in the most excruciating pain...worse than any labor pain.  My head hurt so bad that to sit up to eat or go the bathroom just brought me to tears.  Apparently he had gone through the dura layer of my spine, and the spinal fluid was just leaking out.  So it was like my brain was sitting on my brainstem....I don't know if that's accurate, but it was horrendous.  By the time I was to the 4th day, I could barely hear from all of the pressure.  It was this strange mix of emotions from being thrilled to have brought my first beautiful baby into the world, and being in such constant overwhelming pain.  So on the 5th day, I got the go-ahead to go to the emergency room and have a blood patch.  This is where they take blood from your hand and insert it into the same hole in your spine.  If it works, it clots and within an hour you are better.  Thank God it worked for me.  Within that hour I could hear again.  I was a new person.  

I've got to say that with headaches that  bad, I didn't even notice the normal post-delivery pains that a mom would feel.  So, I guess there's a bright side to everything, right??

When I got pregnant the 2nd time, I decided to look into my ability to do natural childbirth.  I did a lot of reading on-line and decided on a book called "About Hypnobirthing."  For me, it was a concept where I had to throw out a few ideas that didn't mesh with my spiritual beliefs, but overall, it gave me some real tools and confidence to get through labor and delivery.  It gives a good history about how most of the world gives birth without assuming it's that horrendous, and even how the U.S. first started overmedicating women in labor, and how that's affected the stories we tell and our psyches ever since.  It also gave great deep breathing and focused relaxation techniques.  And it reminds me that my body was absolutely created to do this.  

With Jossie, I went into labor on my own, which made a big difference.  I had been laboring for 3 hours before I woke my hubby up.  He didn't believe me, since I was so calm.  By the time he took his hour-long shower and changed car-seats to our friend Angel's car, I was feeling pretty confident I was in labor.  At the same time I was so calm, that I was totally second-guessing myself by the time I was at the hospital.  In fact, I told them my contractions were 3-5 minutes apart and I was so calm that they were in no hurry to believe me or check me.  When they finally got around to it, I was 7 cm and they were rushing me to the delivery floor.  I walked, which also shocked them.

Now, I won't lie that there is this moment of wanting to change my mind and even screaming as the baby is coming out, but in the end I don't have to be catheterized to urinate, and I can get up and walk around, and I can know that I didn't risk paralysis, or my baby's health.  The nurses have been very impressed with my overall calmness.  

Ahhh...I feel better reminding myself why I do this. 

I feel ginormous right now, like this baby has to be a 10 pounder at least.  And the thought of a 10 pounder all natural, does not sound appealing.  I also have some anxiety because something has gone wrong with each birth afterward.  I won't tell you what it was with Jossie...definitely TMI.  With Norah, she came out so easily, thankfully, but then a week later I contracted viral meningitis and spent a week with the most horrendous headaches again.  This time I couldn't lean my head backward at all or I would cry in pain.  I had to sleep with my back straight against the wall and when I'd get into too deep of sleep and my head would slip down, I'd wake right up with excruciating throbbing in my head.  I went through several tests, and my heart rate had even dropped to the 40's and the stupid urgent care doc told me that she was about to send me in for a pacemaker.  WHAT???  I'm obviously fine now, but wow...I want everything to be as healthy and normal as possible this time around, that's for sure.

Then there's the diabetes issue.  For Sophia, so much has changed since Noni-bear was born.  I have so many more details that whomever is watching her HAS to think about and do.  And since I'm the mommy, only I feel I make the best decisions regarding what she eats and insulin.  But, I'm having a baby regardless and she will be fine, I know..  Her emotions are all over the place at times too, which gives concern for baby transition.  I know God will give us grace and we'll get through this just fine.  

I have several doctor's appointments for me and the girls this week, so once those are through, I say, "bring it on!"  Norah keeps noticing my outie belly-button and saying "turkey's done!"  I agree, oh I agree.  

My foot is slightly swollen, and is causing me lots of pain, so I'm barely walking around.  The average daily temperature (not including heat index) here right now is 102.  I can't even breathe when I go outside, and feel like I could pass out when I stand for long.  My mom spent the week with me getting my last necessary "nesting" things done, so all that to say...I AM READY.  

Praying little baby is ready soon too.  

Friday, July 23, 2010

Who are you?

Who's out there?  

I often wonder as I see my counter tick upward, but no comments.  

Just curious.

Sorry to have departed from the "laughing" stories lately.  I'm happy to say we're still a laughing family.  Some days are stressful, but we find joy...a lot of joy in the midst.  

My pregnancy is nearly over.  It's bittersweet.  Some days I feel so huge, and sweaty (thanks to Mid-west/Southern humidity), and sore, that I can hardly wait to give birth.  Other days, the idea of natural childbirth overwhelms my brain, and I think I'd be fine having a 25 pound beach ball in front of me for a while.  Then other days, I am in awe of how quickly time flies, and how I think it was about 2 days ago when I was sitting at my computer feeling the first little flutters.  Now my entire belly moves back and forth, and I often feel a very distinct foot, knee, or bottom protruding out the side.  And I think this is our last baby, so it's a little sad to think those unique feelings that only I can understand and know are almost over.  It's a real kick to watch the girls be amazed by the huge movements they feel under their hands.  

Norah is especially in love with my belly.  She uses my belly like her favorite comfort mechanism...much like a blankie.  Whenever she's upset or tired, she wants me to sit down next to her.  She yanks my shirt up and strokes my belly and talks about my belly, and if she has to get up to get something she says, "stay right there, don't put your belly away."  Or "I'll be right back Baby."  She loves to talk to the baby, kiss my belly, tell the baby about who she is as the big sis, and that she's a really good big sissy.  She's even read books to the baby.  The other day she was reading one with pictures of oranges, and she said, "say 'ball' Baby.  Good.  Now count with me, One...two...free..."  Sometimes she even sings the baby a lullaby.  So sweet.  The funny thing she does occasionally is pinch my belly button like it's a mouth moving and "talk" to the baby that way.  Or look in the belly button and say, "Do you see me Baby?  I'm Noni, and I'm right here."  

In other news, we've started some homeschool again.  Trying to get them used to the idea of doing a few things every day...or most days.  I know it will be hard to squeeze in between nursing sessions in a few weeks, so if they can at least accept doing a few short things, I'll be satisfied with that.  Sophie's in 2nd grade, and Jossie's in Kindergarten this year.  We've added a real focus on memorizing some helpful scriptures.  I love it.  They're learning things that help them, like being kind to others, and not worrying, but praying to God instead...and they're learning that it's all in the Bible.  And they're really good at memorizing at this age, much better than myself, and are so proud when they get it.  I'm discovering that when they know helpful verses in the Bible, then we can turn to those "truths" to help us cope with emotions, or even correct behavior, and it's not just Mommy telling them something...it's a little more concrete, you know?  

Anyway, homeschooling is so frustrating some days just getting them to focus and not whine, and enjoy learning.  But at most moments, it is so incredibly rewarding.  I love realizing how quickly they learn, and inquisitive they are.  Sophie is an amazing reader and speller.  She's reading a smaller version of "Little Women," but it's still a chapter book full of complex words and terms that we don't use daily, and she just breezes through.  She likes taking it with  her on outings and reading.  I like that.  Jossie's starting to read some easy books, and that's fun to watch too.  She's an eager learner, and does it all with a smile (well most of the time).  

Joe's business is taking some interesting turns.  He's been incredibly busy and stressed dealing with that, but we think it's at a really good turning point right now.  More on that later....  Regardless, I'm always so amazed at how intelligently he's created this unique business.  We're hoping the bumps are worked out in the next couple of weeks, so we can focus on being a family of 6 without much stress.  

Eek!  Did I just say "family of 6"???!!!

What else is going on?  

Nesting.  Or trying to at least.  

My goals for today: a little homeschool (done), straighten and do a light cleaning of the house (no where near done), then work on Norah's quilt (getting close, but still several hours of work to go on that), or sort some of their 'baby boxes" and decide what's important, and maybe fill out baby books a bit.  Yeah right!  I can't get all of that done, but it sounds good in theory.  Many days I'm just hurting or worn out, so it just doesn't even come close to being done.  In the mean time, I'm being yelled at about how "IT'S LUNCH TIME AND WE'RE STARVING!!!"  Sheesh!  Don't they know my nesting and sanity is more important than food?  

Oh, and I went to the doctor this week and the baby is suddenly measuring 2 weeks ahead, so I get to test my blood sugars for a couple of weeks.  Always a good reminder, that it's a painful process my little 7-year-old goes through about 10 times a day.  So far, my blood-sugars are perfect, so I don't think it's gestational diabetes.  My sister-in-law says I'm carrying way low, and that in her family they make big boys, and that it's just a "big old hairy boy."  We still don't know if it's a boy or girl, but apparently Joe was a bit hairy when born, like they referred to him as a "monkey boy" for a while.  Poor guy.  We'll love our baby, even if he or she is a bit hairy.  Ha!

So here's my nesting list still to accomplish (trying to keep in mind that if I'm measuring big, it could definitely be an earlier baby):  

Finish filing papers, and cleaning my office.  
Make a board to help us keep up with Classical Conversations material weekly.
Finish Norah's quilt, and some curtains for the girls' room.
Organize baby boxes and put them away.
Find my baby things hidden deep in the recesses of my shed and get my bedside nursery ready.
Clean out and organize my kitchen cabinets.
Cook some meals for my freezer.
CLEAN my fridge.
CLEAN my house.  

Oh, all while taking care of 3 busy bodies, going to a gazillion doctor's appointments, and going to gymnastics 3 times a week, and allergy shots once a week.

Yeah...sure...

There's a good reason why my children will look like they haven't seen the sun all summer.  (Besides the fact that it's so stinkin' hot and I can't take it).  

Happy Summertime to you...whomever you are.


Monday, July 19, 2010

Dining in the Valley

Recently my darling husband posted this essay on the Internet Monk site.  I thought it would make an interesting read on here.  It's funny that we both felt like approaching this subject a bit recently, though separately.  He's such a great writer, so enjoy his thoughts and insights.

“Son of Adam,” said Aslan.  “Are you ready to undo the wrong that you have done to my sweet country of Narnia on the very first day of its birth?”
“Well, I don’t see what I can do,” said Digory.  “You see, the Queen ran away and—”
“I asked, are you ready?” said the Lion.
“Yes,” said Digory.  He had had for a second some wild idea of saying “I’ll try to help you if you’ll promise to help my Mother,” but he realized in time that the Lion was not at all the sort of person one could try to make bargains with.  But when he had said “Yes,” he thought of his Mother and he thought of the great hopes he had had, and how they were all dying away, and a lump came in his throat and tears in his eyes, and he blurted out:
“But please, please—won’t you—can’t you give me something that will cure Mother?”  Up till then he had been looking at the Lion’s great feet and the huge claws on them; now, in his despair, he looked up at its face.  What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life.  For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion’s eyes.  They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory’s own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself.
“My son, my son,” said Aslan.  “I know.  Grief is great.  Only you and I in this land know that yet.  Let us be good to one another.”  (From The Magician’s Nephew, C.S. Lewis)
When I read this passage to my two oldest daughters about two years ago I had a hard time not breaking down right in the middle of my reading.  It had only been a few short days since my oldest daughter, who was five at the time, had been diagnosed with type I Diabetes.  That is the genetic type where you are immediately insulin dependent, immediately faced with a complete change in life.  At the ripe old age of five she was faced with being “chronically ill.”  The idea of her own mortality and the mortality of everyone she loved came crashing in on her, at five.  I also own a business.  My business was entering a dry period.  Making payrolls became difficult and paying myself became even harder.  At a time when my family needed me more than ever, my business needed me too.  And both needed more money than they had ever needed before.  This season was the beginning of what has proven to be the hardest two years of my life, and the most magnificent.
Before I continue, let me acknowledge the fact that there are plenty of people out there who have suffered much more than I have.  You may have lost a loved one, a spouse, a job, or be fighting a losing battle with a terminal illness.  Let me say something incredibly insensitive: It doesn’t matter.  Whatever you are suffering, someone has suffered worse than you.  And if you are suffering you know that the thought of someone else suffering more than you is of no use whatsoever.  It only complicates your own pain by adding guilt.  So let’s all agree to leave the whole “people are starving on the other side of the world” argument out of this discussion for now.
Let me also say that I am venturing on to well-trodden ground here. There are books-a-plenty about the theology of suffering.  In fact, many of you may notice that I leave out some of the most oft used quotes regarding megaphones and whatnot (inside joke for C.S. Lewis junkies).  I am not attempting to write a complete theology of suffering here.  This is just my journey, a piece of my testimony.  I tell it here now because, well, what good is a testimony without the telling?
I believe in the power of Christ to heal disease, to raise the dead, and even that he bestowed that authority on his followers as well.  Jesus has done all that is necessary for the redemption of sin and the setting all of creation right again.  Yet, pain abounds.  Suffering is everywhere, even in the lives of believers.  There is obviously a part of the story that isn’t complete yet, our part.
Suffering is bad.  It sucks.  It isn’t to be sought out.  Satan wants us to suffer; God does not.  However, God gave us free will.  Free will is more dangerous than every weapon of mass destruction combined because with it comes the necessary possibility of suffering.  Buddha taught that suffering is the essence of existence.  In one sense this is an astute observation.  The world we know cannot exist without suffering.  If Christ removed all suffering for those classified as believers, it would unravel our free will and we would find ourselves slaves by compulsion.  End of story.
Buddha also teaches that the path of enlightenment is ultimately an avoidance of all suffering.  Yes, suffering is bad, but should we really mark our path by its presence or avoidance?  How many of us as Christians are taught a gospel of pain avoidance?
When suffering comes, we haul out our token scriptures to “build our faith.”  We shout at the devil and “believe for” miracles.  There is this sense that if we only our faith muscle were big enough, we could flex and pronounce this suffering bit to be over.  I am not even going to get into arguments against asking for healing, or the fervent belief that miraculous healing can and does occur.  When the Infinite One splits time and interrupts our lives, the supernatural happens.  I plan to ask fervently and continually for my daughter’s healing from diabetes.
But I think that a single-minded focus on our own deliverance blinds us to the richness of fellowship that is available to us in the midst of trouble.  We use our Jedi faith tricks to fend off bouts of brokenness when sometimes the brokenness is our deliverance from a much more heinous enemy than suffering.  It is in the brokenness that death truly loses its sting and our victory is truly complete (Philippians 3:10-11).
In God’s miraculous deliverance from bad circumstances we sense his goodness, but in the pain that precedes we sense his nearness.  The nearness of God IS my good (Psalm 73:28).  If we are still following Christ for the simple promise of utopia, then we are not disciples.  Our redemption is not in pain anymore than it is in the avoidance of pain; it lies in Christ and Christ alone.  But if there is fellowship with Christ to be had in suffering, then let’s not just endure, but rejoice at its coming.
The 23rd Psalm has the green pastures and still waters, but it also has the valley of the shadow of death.  It is here in the presence of David’s enemies that God prepares a table for him.  A couple of years ago, when I had finally stopped quoting scripture long enough to break down and look for comfort from Christ, I turned here to the 23rd Psalm.  The Holy Spirit gave me a somewhat humorous vision of the imagery in the Psalm.  In my meditation, I was in the valley of the shadow of death, and Christ was with me.  I was filled with urgency and the need to be gone from the place.  This was the leg of the journey that I was ready to be done with.  What do you say we move on to some higher ground Lord? The Lord looked around us and saw where we were.  He saw the enemies surrounding our position.  He saw death looming and he saw my fear.  It was as if he had the audacity to smile and say, “Let’s eat!”  Surely you don’t mean here God?  Let’s move on and we can enjoy a nice celebration meal on the other side of the valley.  But Christ said to me, “I want to be with you NOW and HERE.”  That was all I needed.  His nearness was good enough.  Actually his nearness was better than healing, better than riches, better than life itself.  He wanted me to do more than endure the hardship, he wanted me to partake in the brokenness, like tasting a wine.  It is intentional and to be sure it is an acquired taste.  But finding the brokenness in the pain is how we train our spirit to thrive only on the nearness of Christ, then riches or poverty no longer matter.  It isn’t that suffering is preferable to ease but that the nearness of Christ makes short shrift of both.
Christ came to give our suffering a point.  He joined and still joins in our suffering so that he might lead the way in undoing the curse.  According to Revelation 12:11 there are two parts to overcoming the evil one at the end of time: (1) the blood of the Lamb and (2) the word of OUR testimony.  Christ did his part.  Now we do ours.  You cannot believe yourself out of suffering.  You can surrender into the faith that he is working in you.  You can humble yourself so that he may exalt you in the proper time (1 Peter 5:6).  Your job is being broken; his job is to deliver you.  It is this fellowship of suffering and his redemption of our pain that becomes our testimony.  In this way, our pain goes the way of the cross, which does indeed lead to the grave, but does not end there.
When we sense our journey leading us into the valley of the shadow of death many of us pine for Eden and wonder when Christ will finally take us home.  What we should realize is that the way home leads through Jerusalem (read Luke 9:51-62), through the valley of the shadow, through the cross.  Some part of us should smile because we know inevitably whom we will meet there.  While the enemy hopes to sow doubt and despair we can laugh at the foolishness of the devil’s plan.  Jesus’ nearness is evident at the worst moments and his nearness is my good.  So literally EVERYTHING works together for the good of me because I believe.
When we come out the other side of the grave, much deeper is our journey with Christ if we have been willing participants.  Then instead of simply thanking Christ for his deliverance and carrying on without him so long as we are in the green pastures, we journey with him.  We hear his footsteps beside us in every single detail of our charmed lives.  It is no longer where the journey takes us that matters, but that it continues to be with Christ.
That is faith to me.  Not some hyped up thought process that yields miracles for the strongest “believer.”  It is looking up at the Lion’s face and seeing his tears.  It is tasting and seeing that he is good right in the midst of the darkness.  It is laughing at the table with my savior while we are still in the worst part of the journey.
Could this be what Christ means when he says, “Blessed are the poor in spirit?”  I have seen poor people and rich people alike who are obsessed with the state of their relative wealth.  The poor man is embittered by his need, and the rich man is scared to death of ever feeling the need in the first place.  But those that allow themselves to simply be broken by need, those are the poor in spirit.
My daughter’s diagnosis brought a crisis for her that has produced faith and intimacy with Christ the likes of which I had never seen before.  I remember one night I was in the kitchen making drinks for dinner, my wife was in the back of the house doing something, and the girls were all waiting at the dinner table.  My oldest tested her own blood sugar, adjusted her insulin pump accordingly, and then proceeded to lead her two younger sisters in the most sincere prayer of thanksgiving for dinner.  I overheard them in the kitchen and the Holy Spirit instantly said to me, “You hear that?  That’s the sound of giants falling.”  Victory had come, not in the miraculous healing I had been hoping for, but in the simple prayer of thanksgiving from a five year old little girl.  In the deep and sincere gratitude for the meal set before her in the presence of her enemies.
In that moment, diabetes had no sting.  In that moment, she was participating in the redemption of mankind.  In that moment, the enemy was overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of her testimony.  His nearness, his coming is our redemption.  If you are in pain or lacking anything, rejoice in his nearness!  Journey well, friends.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Sweetly Broken

The verse from this song really stood out to me for a number of reasons today:

At the Cross You beckon me,
You draw me gently to my knees,
And I am lost for words, 
So lost in love,
I am sweetly broken
Wholly surrendered.

I hope to stay sweetly broken throughout life.  I really don't like struggles and trials.  Who does?   But, I am convinced that in pain and struggles if we're willing, we'll notice that "gently" we are drawn to our knees, and "sweetly" we are broken of our ugliness inside.  And then how easy and pleasing it is to be "wholly surrendered."  

Sigh...

Where have I been lately?  

In some struggles, I guess.  It's hard to be open and not totally pessimistic in the throws of struggle.  It doesn't really matter what those struggles are, because if we're honest, we all have them.  And sometimes I want to throw my hands up at God and yell, "it isn't fair!"  Or, "Why me?  Why us?"  "Why not the goof I know who's still bragging about his wild parties and how 'priceless' his experience was at dropping $5000 on partying with 'friends'?"  

Oh, and then I get a bit into the struggle, and I remember that those sorts of questions are unnecessary.  God isn't picking on me.  He's God and He has a plan.  

And then I realize that when I am drawn gently to my knees, and all I can do is cling to the promises that His deep love fulfill on the cross, I am so thankful He doesn't let me go.  It is so easy to have an easy ride in life, and when that happens, it is so easy to be caught up in what our culture thinks is important...and not be satisfied with simplicity.  And not even feel a need to be relying on God.  When life is easy, we simply drift. 

I don't want to be a drifter.  I want to stay ever-mindful of my utter dependence on Him. I don't like struggles, but I do like the closeness to my loving Father that I get when I realize I can't handle the struggle on my own, and getting angry and bitter isn't working, so surrender is my only peace.

And sometimes in those moments, if I'm careful to notice His handiwork, I can see beauty in the simple things of life...and I lose the focus on my own self-pity.

I find I really like things like:

Fresh from my garden tomatoes and basil....mmmmm....

My girls giggling uncontrollably.

Jossie grabbing my face and saying, "Mommy, the best gift I can give you that is so special to your heart is my kisses and hugs...so come here!"  (And then laying them on me of course).

My hubby putting the kids to bed and singing them songs, and not complaining about how tired he is...

Homemade bread (And OK,  I'm pregnant here, so a lot of these are definitely food related.)

Sophie saying the sweetest and most heart-felt prayers.

Norah saying, "I'm big now, I can say "band-aid" instead of "bain-bain."  (OK, that makes me sad when she corrects her own baby talk).  

Friends showing up to help me clean, or organize...just because they love me.  


And then sometimes I get reality checks by looking at the rest of the world, and putting my "suffering" and "struggles" in perspective.  Because even in my most uncomfortable moments, they tend to pale in comparison to the real pain in much of the impoverished world.  It doesn't change that I may be in pain, but it does help me to get some perspective.

As I look at those around me, even people like the guy I mentioned earlier, I realize that as we understand each other's stories, we have so much more compassion and love for people.  And their weird behavior is often explained by their pain.  I don't know what his pain is.  But, I know you can't find true happiness in pretend friends and dropping wads of money on a lake weekend, and so I know that there has to be some pain he is trying to medicate with "fun."  And I don't want to envy his "easy life."

So often I find that when people have quirks or even bad choices I want to judge, that when I understand their deeper pain, I am a lot less likely to judge.

We all have stories.  We all have pain.

Oh, but for the grace of God.  Without it we have nothing.  No hope.  

But with the grace, comes hope, faith, and love.   

And so in struggles, I think it is so important to cling to God and to not isolate, but to spend time with others. When we understand their struggles, it helps us in ours, and being vulnerable about our struggles with healthy people, is a necessary thing.  I believe God intends for it really.  

Thank you God for the peace and fulfillment that comes from being sweetly broken.

Monday, May 31, 2010

Name Meanings

We love picking names based on meanings.  We also love names that are less popular, classic, etc.  Though, many people must feel the same way, because Sophia has been one of the most popular names I've ever heard since she was born (though we'd never heard it anywhere before she was born...seriously).  And now we're seeing Norah pop up everywhere, which I thought was surely a safe and little-used name.  Oh well.

Back to meanings. 

Sophia Belle means Wisdom and Beauty.

Josselyn Rose means Full of Joy and Rose is a family name, but I think it's the most beautiful flower.

Norah Eve means Honor and Life.

I'm having a hard time with names this time around.  A lot of the cute boy names, just don't have meanings, other than things like "Of the field." or whatever.  And I think their names are so significant.  As Joe often says, it's like we get to be a part of putting the final brush stroke on part of God's creation when He allows us the opportunity to name our sweet babies.  In history and in the Bible, names were very carefully selected according to what the parents wanted to see in their children, or other reasons as well.  Point being, names were important...the meanings were important.

The last two days I've been cracking up about something.  See, whenever people comment on my unusual name, I just say, "Oh my parents hadn't come up with a name for 3 days after I was born.  They had to name me to leave the hospital, so they opened the T.V. guide and there was this actress named Anjanette Comer listed in there, and they thought that was a lovely name, and voila! I have a name."  And that's basically the story I was told.  Most people haven't heard of my name, but I have actually met close to 10 different Anjanette's.  They're always spelled the same way, and we're always about the same age.

But, when looking for names on-line for the last 7 years, I've often been shocked at the crazy and sometimes ridiculous names that are recognized on these sights.  A few years ago, there was seriously the name: Humvee listed on there.  It won't be shocking that it was American in origin, I'm sure.  And there have been several other equally indulgent names I've seen on there as well.  

And, I've always been frustrated that my name, which isn't that crazy sounding (after all, it is a combination of Ann and Jeanette) is never even seen as a "real" name on these websites.  

Until Now!

I was searching on BabyNames.com and typed my name in, just out of curiosity.  And, it popped up!  Not only that, but it had a real meaning: God is Gracious.  That was Saturday night.  I was so happy.  Not only was it not a never-heard of name, they actually knew it was most popular in 1971 (by the time she was in the tv guide, must have been 1975!).  And they had a real meaning for my name.  I suddenly felt like my accidental name had meaning, even if my parents hadn't realized it at the time.  And to be a person who knows without a doubt that God is Gracious, and actually have my name mean that...wow!

Then, tonight, I found this other website called Unique Baby Names.  I wasn't searching for my name anymore, but was just typing in meanings that I like, to see what names come up.  So, I had typed in a few different meanings, then typed in Gift of God. Guess what the first name was that popped up on the list?  Anjanette!!  It had it listed as the meaning: Gift of God's Favor.  

Sweet.  

Seriously, I feel special.  

I like it so much, I might name my daughter: Anjanette, Jr.  

OK, I wouldn't really do that.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Suicidal Fish and Buzzy Fingers

So, we started off the day like any Sunday, getting ready for church.  

Jossie and Norah were in their room playing on the floor, when all of a sudden I hear Jossie yell, "There's a fish on the floor!!"

Well that can't be good.

We have these two goldfish and a beta.  I like them, because they are soooo low-maintenance.  But, they've been kind of funny for fish.  We call them dog-fish, because when you walk into the room they literally wag their tails, and bump up against the glass trying to get our attention so we'll feed them.  They'll even follow you to the other side of the tank when you walk across the room.  Occasionally they get so excited that one will make a splash at the top of the tank.  

Well, apparently the splash went too far this time.  I have no idea when it happened, because when I ran into the room, he was laying perfectly still in the middle of the carpet. We all huddled around staring at him in amazement that there he was...in the middle of the carpet.  Then Sophia came into the room and started crying and ran off, because she realized it was her fish (who coincidentally doesn't even have a solid name...for a fish that we're so emotionally attached to.  But, that's beside the point). 

I was contemplating how beneficial his dead body would be to my garden.  Though of course I didn't mention it in a cold-hearted manner.  I leaned closer and noticed his big gill moving ever-so-slightly.  I said with caution, "I think he may still be alive."  I knew I had to act fast.  This was my first attempt at any CPR, much less fish CPR. So, I picked him up by the tail...and let me say he was pretty sticky and stiff, so I wasn't holding out much hope. I plopped him in the tank, and rubbed his sides a little...hoping to un-sticky him and get the air flowing or something.  Seriously, I had no idea, but I had a little hope.  

In a moment he started moving his fins a little.  He was still pretty much belly-up at this point, but hey, he was showing a bit of life.  I excitedly, but hesitantly told the girls he might just make it...and then again, he might not.  I sprinkled a little food over by him hoping that would excite him into alertness, since he's been such a big fan of the stinky flakes his long life.  We all had to resume getting ready for church.  But, before we left, we noticed he was actually swimming.

He's changed a bit.  Like maybe he's got a wee bit of brain damage.  He's definitely swimming, but no banging on the tank for our attention, and it's taking him quite a while to notice the flakes above.

Crazy Fish!!

Joe's decided that he's not necessarily "alive," but more like "undead."  

Cue the creepy Twilight Zone music...

Fish stories aside...this afternoon, we were at the mall.  Jossie and Norah and I were getting some ice cream when Jossie notices that two of her fingers are tingly and asleep.  She says, "Mommy, my fingers are buzzy."  I said, "Yeah?  They're probably just asleep.  It happens sometimes.  You let me know if it keeps up for a few days or something."  Don't ask me why, but maybe it's something a mom should be concerned with?? I don't know.  

Anyway, so a moment of silence goes by (and if you know Jossie, there really are only a few milliseconds of silence in her life), and she exclaims, "OH MAAAAAAN!  Those were my favorite two fingers!!"

I love that girl!  Who else would have favorite fingers?