Friendgiving: Give Thanks in All Things

The last month has been an overwhelming one for our community and state. Even though I haven't been directly impacted (other than the smoke from the Chattanooga wildfires), my heart has been heavy as hard things have continued to happen. 

First were the local wildfires, then the week of Thanksgiving a terrible school bus accident left families without children, followed by this week's wildfire that brought destruction to Gatlinburg leaving people without homes, jobs and in some cases family, and finally tornadoes coming on the heels of the fires. 

I have spent a lot of time in prayer recently. I have prayed on behalf of those who have endured hardships that I cannot even begin to fathom. I have questioned why all of this is happening, and continues to happen. And as I have prayed, I am drawn to things I am thankful for. Tragedies have occurred, and there is nothing that can take away from that, but there have been moments of goodness through it all, too. Neighbors helping neighbors. 

People have opened up their homes to strangers, their properties and barns for animals. Food and items have been donated to help take the sting from the most terrible of events. Blood has been given as people have showed up in droves to support those who were injured. Prayer vigils have happened where neighbors and strangers alike have shared a shoulder to cry on and supported in the only way they know how. The response of our community allows me to continue to have faith in humanity. Even at the darkest of times.

This past Sunday our small group gathered for a Friendsgiving. I got out my china and we shared a meal that was seasoned with laughter. We didn't talk about the heartache that I know we are all feeling, but for me it was an evening that was needed amidst the heaviness of life. 

I think I could write pages of all the things I am thankful for, but for now I am most thankful for our families, the friends that we get the privilege of experiencing life with, and this community that we live in – these people who step up and love each other, especially when life is hard. 

"Give thanks in everything." 1 Thessalonians 5:18

It's the Final Countdown

Three long years ago, we learned that Daniel was going to be relocated from working in Hollywood, Alabama to two hours north in Spring City, Tennessee. We knew it was coming, but it still turned our world upside down. We spent eight months living out of suitcases, in and out of hotels and vacation homes during the week, until finally settling into our current home on Signal Mountain.

We both felt strongly that we made the right choice in regard to the location of our new home, but we knew it would be a difficult journey – Daniel's new position promised long hours, with a 70-minute commute each way. We were told the job would last about a year, so we hoped and prayed for the best.

To say it's been a hard experience would be an understatement. Jack went through a phase where he didn't believe that Daniel lived at our house. Which was kind of true. For months on end, Daniel worked 6-7 days a week, and sometimes weeks at a time without a day off. The hours were long. The commute was long. I felt like a single mom. We experienced a miscarriage in the middle of this trying time, and did our best to hold it together. Thankfully Isaac was born into our family a year later, but Daniel continued to struggle with having to work so much. He loved what he was doing but the long hours definitely took a toll on all of us.

Every night we say bedtime prayers with Jack and we would all pray that Daniel would get a job closer to home. It was excruciating when Jack began to put a voice to the things we were all feeling... Why hasn't God answered our prayers? Why does daddy still work so far away? Why is daddy gone all the time? Why can't daddy be home with us more?

As adults, we have experience on our side. This isn't our first rodeo. We have prayed and waited through difficult things in the past. It's much harder to explain to a child that life is full of waiting.

Most people have heard our news by now, but we are still excited! Daniel FINALLY got a new job. I won't go into how many positions he applied for, it's too demoralizing. But our prayers have been answered.

Daniel is staying with his same company but moving to corporate headquarters to join the Dam Safety team. This will be a big change from Nuclear, but the benefits for our family are beyond what we had hoped for.

Daniel's company is notorious for being slow at hiring people (even internally), so we were shocked to learn less than two weeks after his interview that he had a job offer. The company was still slow in making the transition (he got the offer when we were on vacation last month), but Daniel is FINALLY finishing his last week of work at Watts Bar! 

I don't think we will know what to do with ourselves starting next week. A 40-ish hour work week, with a 20-minute commute? What does that even look like? How do people function with all of that extra time? We CANNOT wait to find out for ourselves!!!
 

On My Mind: Words Matter, but so does Perspective

My blog has been a place to document my life for almost 10 years now! Sometimes it includes reviews, sometimes it is just me rambling about various topics. Often it is an open journal of my life, which heavily involves my family. I also try to touch on important current events, especially when they hit close to home. I think I do this because I want my kids to be able to look back and have an understanding of the world we live in, and what was transpiring during their lifetime. Right now I feel like our world is more broken than it has been in a long time, and the brokenness is showing up closer and closer to home. So here is some of what has been on my mind lately...

When Daniel and I were first married, like most newlyweds, we experienced a crash course in communication. About two years into our young marriage we decided to purchase our first home. We intentionally picked a fixer upper, that we immediately gutted and spent five years rebuilding together. Several people told us we would get divorced over this project...

Obviously we are not divorced, but that house did not come without trials. Truthfully we fought a lot about decisions in that home. We like to joke that this was the house that taught us how to fight. And also how to let things go, and agree to disagree.

The moment I remember most vividly had to do with our basement renovation. We would have long discussions where we would dream together about what we would do to our basement. We were very specific in our discussions. Very specific. And then the time came to actually do the work.

We walked downstairs and had one of the biggest fights of our marriage. We were on the same page after all, having talked in great detail. BUT. It turned out that when I was talking about a south wall, Daniel was talking about a north wall. Our visions were completely opposite. And while we had talked it out and AGREED on what we were doing, we weren't even remotely close to being on the same page.

It was a valuable lesson.

Once we figured out how off our "agreement" was, we sat down and literally drew out our ideas on paper and discussed (fought) and discussed some more until we came to a real agreement. A true agreement, where we were both not only heard but actually understood the other person.

These days if we are working on something and our words don't seem to be getting through, sometimes we go back to the drawing board. Literally. We have to be on the same page and know that we have the same vision in an effort to move forward.

In my opinion, so many things that are happening in our country right now can be traced back to a similar type of problem (whether political or pertaining to race relations in our communities). We may be talking about the same issues, and even hearing what is being said. But sometimes there is a complete lack of understanding because we don't have the same perspective. 

I recently read an article (Race, Truth and Our Two Realities) that gives incite into how the correspondence theory of truth impacts race discussions in America. We are at a crossroads where discussions are happening, but it is like the people taking part in the discussions are standing with their backs to each other, looking in opposite directions. The past, along with one's personal experiences and expectations about the future, all define one's perspective, and if those things are different (which they inevitably are), a conversation might not actually yield any kind of change.

I don't have answers. I find that difficult subjects are best talked out in person, with maybe a drawing board to get you where you need to go. Shouting on the internet, or in forums where you can't really be heard does not solve anything. 

I hope that at the very least we are raising our boys to be respectful and loving to everyone they meet. And to also understand that every single person in this world has experiences that determine how they perceive the world and live out their lives. Period. That is just reality and we need to be willing to listen with an effort to try to understand one other if there is ever to be any kind of change or reconciliation.

Love does no harm to a neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law. Romans 13:10

#orlando

Like the rest of the country, I am in shock and deeply saddened by the mass shooting that happened in Orlando early Sunday morning. When there were attacks in Paris last November, it was shocking but it felt far away. When Belgium was bombed in March, it felt a bit closer to home because I had a cousin spending a semester there. Orlando brings terror a little too close to home for me. Much like the shootings in Chattanooga did last summer. 

So, I am doing the only thing I know to do. I am praying for peace and comfort for the families who lost loved ones. I am praying for those who were spared, and those who feel the guilt of "why not me?" I am praying for our divided nation, and I am going to show love and respect to everyone I meet. I am also going to go on living my life because living trapped in fear is not really living.

Yesterday

I have been making great efforts to get outside with our boys, daily. Yesterday Jack requested we go to one our local parks.

It was 42º and, even though it was sunny, we were the only people there. Jack enlisted me to play Octonauts with him – Jack was Kwazi and I was Captain Barnacles and we were saving fish in the sea from danger. This game lasted until a set of twins arrived. Then the game changed to children fending off bad guys with their swords.

The play was loud and rambunctious and what you would expect of four year olds. Climbing and jumping, and perhaps some pushing and shoving as well.

As they played, the care taker of the twins mentioned to me that the two children in her care had lost their father just last week. She only told me because the twins are 4 years old and they had been telling people that their daddy was in heaven. She wanted me to be prepared in case they told Jack.

The children did not tell Jack, but my heart ached for them just the same. I ache for their mother and their older siblings, who I am sure are still feeling the sting of such unexpected loss.

I'm glad that Jack could be a distraction for these new friends, if only for day. I'm still turning it over in my head. Tell your loved ones you love them. Every. Single. Day. We have no promise of tomorrow.

#noogastrong

It feels like my brain has turned to mush. The last three months of waking up with Isaac during the night have definitely taken a toll. Until I get to regularly sleep through the night again, and my brain returns to normal, I will just keep doing my best to piece my thoughts together...

Last Thursday was a frightening day. The older I get, the more experiences I have that fill me with fear. Evil abounds in this world and these instances remind me that this world is not my home.

I remember how horrifying it was to watch the September 11 attacks, live on television, from my university student center. More recently I remember the shock of hearing about the Boston Marathon attack. I never expected to be so close to such an attack.

I normally listen to the radio while I am in the car, but for some reason I had turned it off on the way to my boot camp class at the Y. I believe I was having a conversation with Jack about why we obey the laws while driving. 

When I arrived at the Y, my boot camp instructor was running around asking about keys. I just assumed she needed keys to unlock the closet where the weights are stored. When she came into the gym, she informed us all that the doors were all locked and that our kids were safe. I thought that was an odd statement but I assumed she was making sure the doors were locked so the kids couldn't sneak out. I had no idea that a sinister event was playing out in Chattanooga.

There were only a handful of people at the work out. I assumed that everyone was on vacation or just skipping. At the end of class I checked my phone and saw that I had several messages from my dad. In the middle of the day... which was odd. Then my instructor started to say something about an active shooter. Wait, WHAT? It was then that things started to click in my brain.

There was an active shooter. At the Riverpark. And he had not yet been stopped.

My dad called again and I let him know that we were ok, that I was collecting the boys and we were heading home. I told Jack that we couldn't stay and play on the playground like we usually did. He wanted to know why. So I revisited our earlier conversation about obeying the laws, telling him that someone was not obeying the laws and we needed to go home to be safe.

I quickly got the boys in the car and started driving. I called Daniel to make sure he had heard the news. He works an hour north of town so I knew he was ok. We drove home and I turned on the radio to listen to the news live. The shooter had been stopped. People were on lockdown. People had died. I silently wept and prayed as I drove.

Once home Jack wanted to make cookies. He had been asking for a couple of days to make cookies and I knew that was what we needed to do. He doesn't know that the world has evil in it. He didn't know, nor could he comprehend, what had just happened. So we continued with life. Business as usual. The business of a mom and her 3-year-old making cookies. The day felt very surreal. It still does. Did that really happen in our city? 

I am so proud of the men and women who rushed to help. The first responders that worked to stop and contain the situation. I felt like everyone was calm and collected and did what needed to be done. Since the event I continue to hear stories like how two marines helped get people to safety before returning to search for others and ultimately getting shot. They are heroes. The police officer that ran toward the shooting, to help. He is a hero. Five men lost their lives in this terrorist attack in the city I call home.

The people of Chattanooga have pulled together in a way that makes me proud to live here. Proud to be an American citizen. People are choosing to continue living their lives. I know that shock still permeates our city, but by and large it seems like the people who live here are choosing to be #noogastrong and not allowing the events of last week take anything from them. 

I continue to pray for the families that lost loved ones during this tragic incident.

Twelve Years

This year has brought its share of difficulties. A miscarriage. Potty training a toddler. Daniel working longer hours than either of us like. 

In the midst of those harder days I have been thinking back to when we were first dating. As a starry-eyed young couple in love, we never considered the hard things the future might hold.

Daniel and I started dating in college. We were both 20. Many of our dates were spent laying under the stars sharing our hopes and dreams with each other. 

Never once during those conversations did we discuss the possibility of moving to new places where we didn't know anyone, family problems, hospital stays, unemployment, living in 2 different states (Daniel in TN and me in NC for 5 months),  living in a camper, living in hotels, miscarriage, working extremely long hours, or the myriad number of difficult things you go through as you grow up and navigate married life. We had no idea what the future held.

Maybe the reason you don't consider the hard experiences that lie ahead is that no one would ever move forward with their lives if they knew how challenging it might be. If you really knew the difficulties, would you have enough trust in your partner to wade those deep waters together? I think marriage is about literally taking the plunge into the unknown and holding on tightly no matter what.

On the flip side, while we hoped and dreamed about good things in our lives, I don't think we could ever comprehend the good things that we have been able to experience together like the joy of becoming parents, the places we would go, or the things we could accomplish when we work together. 

Our lives are full of mountains and valleys and I am so thankful to have a partner on this journey, through the good and the bad.

We have been tremendously blessed, even in the hard times.
5th Anniversary  |  6th Anniversary  |  7th Anniversary  |  8th Anniversary  |  9th Anniversary
10th Anniversary  |  11th Anniversary

my miscarriage...

A week before Mother’s Day, I had a natural miscarriage that occurred when I should have been 10 weeks and 3 days pregnant. The previous week Daniel and I had gone to my first OB appointment and learned that while my body was 9 weeks pregnant, a baby had never formed. The ultrasound showed only a yolk sac and my doctor called it a blighted ovum. She emphasized that sometimes these things just happen and there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. She also said that it was unlikely to happen again.

Daniel and I left the doctor numb. Bummed is the only way I can really describe how I felt at the time. We had a lovely steak dinner at Hennen’s in downtown Chattanooga – what should have been a celebration. We were mostly quiet. We walked to Ben & Jerry’s for ice cream and then down to the river to sit together. It was the first date we had had in forever. And we were bummed.

We opted to do some additional testing to confirm my diagnosis. I needed that extra week to research, hope and come to terms with what was happening. I prayed a lot for peace. After some additional blood work, my doctor called and confirmed the diagnosis, again. I wanted to have one more ultrasound before I decided anything further. But in my heart I knew there was no baby.

The following Sunday I stayed home from church. I didn’t feel right. Daniel brought lunch home and shortly after eating, my miscarriage started. I won’t go into details, but it was quite painful and I am thankful we had some lortab on hand. I don’t know if I would have made it through the afternoon without those narcotics. Five hours later it was over.

Miscarriage is probably the loneliest, most difficult experience I have had. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

The week after my miscarriage, I stayed home and watched lots of TV with Jack. Mostly we watched The Lorax – over and over again. I didn’t cook, I didn’t clean, I didn’t do much of anything. Then Jack came down with a fever and I panicked that something terrible was happening to him. I hauled him to the doctor and 24 hours later he was fine.

The Saturday before Mother’s Day, we took Jack to ride on Thomas the Train. We had purchased the tickets in advance and it turned out to be a good distraction for me. On Mother’s Day I slept in and we spent the afternoon biking. I just needed to be with my family and surrounded by nature.

The Monday after Mother’s Day, I made myself go to the body pump class at the Y – I needed a hard workout. Tuesday I went back to the Y and pushed hard through a Boot Camp class. It felt good to be active after a two-week hiatus.

During Boot Camp, while taking my 60-second turn to kick a punching bag to my heart’s content, I looked around the gym and it dawned on me that everyone has had difficult experiences. There is a girl that takes the same classes that I do who happens to be an amputee. Someone else in the class had a hysterectomy earlier this year, and an older gentleman who comes recently had his gall bladder removed. In addition, about a month ago our instructor lost her father unexpectedly. My point is that at some point in our lives, every one of us is going to go through difficult experiences. Our things may not be as obvious (or hard) as an amputated leg or as lonely as a miscarriage, but we will all carry some degree of pain and suffering with us. It’s just a part of the human experience.

A week after my miscarriage, it all began to feel like a bad dream. Two weeks later it is becoming a bad memory – one that I’m thankful is already fading. I know that this probably won’t be the last hard experience I have, but for now I am grateful for the peace that has blanketed me and that there is hope for the future.

De Ja Vu

It is hard to believe that 3 years, 3 months and 26 days ago, Daniel and I were saying goodbye in a parking lot with no clear view of what our future might hold. We just knew that Daniel had a good job and we would be living in two different states until we sold our house. It was horrible.

Last night, I helped Daniel pack his stuff for the week. So much has changed but it was eerily similar to that day 3 years ago. I hate goodbyes, so I am hoping this particular week is the only week we do this. No more indefinite months of living a part. That's not good for anyone.

This time is easier because I know we are creating a short-term game plan that will involve us being together soon. It is different because we are only 2 hours apart instead of 6 and we don't have a renovation to finish (we are hoping to get our house on the market in the next couple of weeks). It is odd because now I have a little toddler to take care of and I can't sit around moping when Jack has no idea that anything is different. 

I am thankful that we live closer to family and that I can pop over to visit them when I need to.

This time around it is the same, but different. I definitely have everyone on my mind that is affected by this transition.

When I am afraid...

The world is a scary place. There is so much that is out of our control – for someone like me who likes to be in control, this is tough. It would be so easy to stay home and not engage with this crazy, scary world. But if we chose to hide, we would miss out on experiences and relationships and opportunities. Even with all of the evil around us, I believe that the good outweighs the bad. 

I can't imagine the terror felt by those who were at the Boston Marathon yesterday. Having run a half marathon, I can only try to imagine the chaos and confusion that ensued, especially for the runners who were already physically and mentally exhausted as they came to the end of their race.

This quote from Mr. Rogers encourages me at a time like this.

{via Huff Post Parents}

It reminds me that good people exist and they are willing to help others, even in the face of difficult situations. Even those who were exhausted from having run 26.2 miles were willing to rally to help those who were hurt.

I am also encouraged by God's word. It reminds me that I don't have to be in control. I don't have to understand the things that happen in this world, I just have to trust that God is in control.

God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. – Psalm 46:1-3

Trusting God is the only thing that allows me to truly engage with the world. It lets me put my fears aside. It gives me peace and comforts me when I am afraid.

I continue to pray for those who were affected directly by this terrible tragedy.

More Than Just a Mom

Last year I read this post on A CUP OF JO about Jo's struggle with postpartum depression. For her it didn't come until she was weaning her child. I found it interesting and must have stored the information from that article in the back of my cob-webby mommy brain.

Anyways, I didn't really think that I would struggle with strong emotional feelings when it came to pregnancy and motherhood. I am a fairly stoic person and not overly emotional. While pregnant, I can count on one hand the number of times I cried for no reason. I even saw the movie "The Help" and I didn't cry. Surrounded by women in a theater and very pregnant and I didn't even tear up. 

After Jack came along I jumped into the business of being a mom and don't recall feeling anything unusual. When my period came back I had intense cramps but no strong emotional feelings to go with it. All of this to say that I appeared to be returning to my normal, even after giving birth.

So, it has been a bit of shock that as I come to the end of nursing my sweet boy {we are in the process of weaning, and Sunday will be the last day} I have been feeling at odds with myself. I have felt lost in a sea of motherhood. Some days I feel that all I am is a mom and it overwhelms me. I have been having odd panicky feelings surrounding death and illness that grip me in the night. Bouts of insomnia have plagued me the last couple of weeks. And I wonder what is going on.

Then I remember reading this article and I think, this could be what is going on.*

And it makes me feel a bit better.

I have also been reminding myself that while I love being a mom and Jack has made me a better person, I am more than that. There are roles that I filled before I became a mother that I still fill today. None of that has changed. Some of those roles may have shifted in priority, but they still exist.

Wife. Daughter. Sister. Friend. Christian. Artist. Outdoor Enthusiast. Good Cook. Adrenaline Junkie. Designer. World Traveler. Lover of Books and Learning.

I think my recent feelings are why it was so important to me to go hiking last weekend. I didn't care that it was a bit cool or that we got a late start and would only be able to squeeze in a couple of miles. I desperately needed to feel like me. I needed to do it for myself. I needed to do it so that I could be a better wife and mom. It is why I have been forcing myself to go workout with a group a couple of times a week. Even though it is dark and cold out, I need those moments to clear my mommy head and feel like I am me again. No other obligations, just me.

*Note that I don't think I am suffering from any kind of severe depression. Certainly not anything debilitating. It is more that I have just been struggling with my own personal identity and I think that some of what I have been going through could be linked to hormonal changes that go along with weaning a baby.  

...

Ten days ago I learned that a classmate, Amelia, from my hometown was in a terrible car wreck. Last night I learned that she would not be waking up. She leaves behind a husband and two small children.

I don't even know what to say. Unexpected death is the thing that I find to be the most challenging to my faith. It is so senseless. I am incredibly sad for her family.

Like when my friend drowned earlier this year, or the Sandy Hook shootings last week, my mind screams, "Why?" They don't deserve this. Those left behind don't deserve to deal with this. And yet this is life. This is the world we live in. It is full of hurt and suffering and pain.

There are no words that I can offer of comfort to these families. I pray for them. For comfort. For shoulders to cry on. For arms to be wrapped around them and ears to listen. I pray that they have people who will walk with them as they traverse this difficult valley of pain and suffering.

"Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand … For I, the LORD your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, “Fear not, I am the one who helps you.” – Isaiah 41:10, 13

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January 30, 2013 UPDATE 
Shortly after I wrote this original blog post, Amelia showed signs of brain activity. She was admitted to the Shepherd Center in Atlanta to help recover from the brain injury she sustained from her accident. Her family is hopeful that she will be in a Minimally Conscious State by her birthday and be able to move on to the next phase of treatment. 

April 4, 2013 UPDATE
Amelia was able to go home. Her mother is caring for her at this time. I am unclear as to how much she will recover, but she is now home and surrounded by family.

God continues to work in this situation and I continue to pray for her family as they walk through this difficult valley.

July 23, 2013 UPDATE
Amelia's Mom wrote:  

Our precious Amelia has her victory. She peacefully went to her new home this morning at 7:00. We didn't leave her bedside and we were watching every breath. Thank you for your love and prayers.

I am truly saddened by the loss of Amelia. I hope and pray that her family can find peace in this terrible ordeal. They will continue to be in my thoughts and prayers in the days and years to come. For some reason I keep having the image in my head of Amelia running through a field of daisies to meet loved ones who have gone before her. Rest in love, Amelia.

Don't Waste Your Life

When it comes to the death of someone young, or at least someone close to your own age, it always seems so senseless. So unfair. So tragic. So many unanswered questions. So sad. So hard. So many thoughts. So many images flashing through my mind when I close my eyes.

This past week a friend of ours, Patrick Halstead, was taken off of life support after a drowning accident. It all makes no sense. We sit and question what could have happened. We wonder, why? What is God's purpose in all of this?

And there are no answers.

Patrick was a good father and a good friend. He was the kind of guy who would go the extra mile to check on you, just because. 

A few years ago when I was rushed to the ER for a blood clot, Patrick showed up at the ER {shortly after I posted a status update to Facebook}. He came at a critical time for me... I had just learned that besides having a blood clot in my leg, I also had a pulmonary embolism and they would be admitting me to the hospital for a week. Daniel had gone home to pack for the hospital stay and I couldn't reach him to update him about what was going on. I was terrified and alone when Patrick walked through the door. He was one of the few to visit me in the hospital and at the time he didn't even know me that well. He just showed up. Not many people just show up at the critical times in our lives... Patrick was special in that way: he always made time for people.

I hate that Patrick is no longer with us. I hate it for his son. I hate it for his family. I hate that we didn't get to see him when we were in Charlotte a few months ago. But Patrick taught me something invaluable: People are important and I need to be better about making time for people; making time to show up.

Today is Patrick's memorial service in Charlotte and my heart aches for his son, for his family, for those closest to him. When I hold my own son, my heart breaks a little more.

Patrick will be sorely missed by many. I take comfort in the fact that while life was not always easy for him, he was able to take the opportunity {after a lay off from Verizon} to work at the White Water Center in Charlotte doing something he loved. I take comfort in the fact that he didn't waste his life. I take comfort in knowing that I will see him again in Heaven.

Patrick -- I hope that you knew that you were loved. I hope that you knew that you touched a lot of people by showing up. 

*Pictures from a camping trip in the North Carolina Mountains in September, 2008.

When Parenting is Hard_TEST

I had debated sharing this with the internet, but my blog has been a documentation of my grown-up life and this is a part of my journey. Daniel and I had initially hesitated sharing on Facebook and only told our immediate families. But in the end we decided that on the day of Jack’s MRI we wanted to have people praying on behalf of our little guy. We wanted people to know. We wanted support. And we definitely got that. I was also surprised to find out how many people I know who have had similar scares because their baby had a big head…

Here is a bit of our story.

Pediatrician Well Visit  
As a new parent, these are words you don't want to hear at your child's well visit... "It is probably nothing, but your son's head size is off the charts and I would like to refer you to a Pediatric Neurologist." 

We went to our pediatrician's office expecting the usual. Our biggest concerns were what to expect next in our child’s life. The conversation we had instead was Not.What.We.Expected.

Granted, we knew Jack had a big head. We have joked about it since the first ultrasound when Daniel pointed out the big noggin. Daniel has a big head. His dad has a big head. My dad has a big head. Jack is in good {smart} company.

However, being off the charts means you are an anomaly – even if someone has to be the one who is not average. It's hard when above average is not considered a good thing and it's your child who is fitting this criteria. In Jack's case, our doctor did say that his big head was part of what makes him so cute {we think so, too}.

Anyway, Daniel and I are not worriers by nature. We didn’t want to waste a lot of energy and time worrying about this. But it was still there. Lingering in the back of my thoughts.

I skyped my parents with the news. I told them not to worry, but asked them to keep us in their prayers. I told them not to google, because it would probably create more concern. I told them we weren't going to google, but my curiosity got the best of me and I went ahead and did a brief search. I don't want to worry, but when the appointment came I wanted to be informed.

I'm not going to lie. I cried at the thought of what this could all mean. Then I picked myself up, snuggled up to Daniel, said a prayer for Jack and did my best to let go and let God. Worrying wouldn’t make any potential problems go away.

Pediatric Neurologist Consult 
We went to see the pediatric neurologist. Jack was meeting all of his milestones and was a happy baby. The neurologist measured Jack’s head. Then he measured Daniel’s for comparison. They were pretty similar in terms of percentiles for their respective ages.

The neuro made it clear that the main reason for concern was not that Jack’s head was off the charts, it was more an issue that his head had grown too quickly. It had crossed percentiles in a big way and this was definitely cause for concern. The neuro wanted Jack to get an MRI.

The mama in me did not want to do this to my little boy. But the mama in me also wanted to be sure that we were doing all we could for Jack. We discussed our options: according to our neuro, Jack was too old to do an ultrasound. We could go with a CAT scan but the odds were we would end up doing an MRI anyway. So we decided to schedule the MRI.

The official diagnosis on Jack's paperwork from the neurologist was Macrocephalia. As we left the neurologist, I googled Macrocephalia… Jack didn’t exhibit any of the symptoms of this diagnosis other than having a big head. An MRI would determine if he had Hydrocephalus or if there were any other causes for concern.

MRI
In retrospect I should have talked to my good friend who is an anesthesiologist... She would have told us what to expect and how we could have made sure that Jack had a good MRI experience. But that didn’t happen.

We scheduled the earliest scan possible at 8 in the morning. We had to be there at 6:30 and Jack couldn’t eat after midnight the previous night. He was tired and hungry. And there was no way to communicate to him what was going on. All we could do was be there and hold him.

Daniel spent a lot of time walking the halls with Jack because whenever Jack saw me he would cry from hunger.

We finally got into a patient room and the nurse came in to prep us. She was really friendly and we both liked her right away. She said they would have to put in an IV and that because of Jack’s age they couldn’t numb the area first.

If I had talked to my anesthesiologist friend first, we would have known to request that Jack be put to sleep with a mask first and if that was not possible, we could have considered other children's hospitals like Vanderbilt. But you can’t change the past.

Babies are chubby and their veins are small which makes it hard to insert an IV needle. To start, our nurse put heat packs on Jack's wrists, then it took 4 nurses to hold him down in order to try to insert the IV. During this process Daniel and I held Jack’s hand and stroked his hair. They tried for 40 minutes and Jack fought. The entire time. After 40 minutes they stopped to give him a chance to calm down.

Then came another round of trying... In the end, they managed to get the IV into his wrist. They had to put a splint on his arm to keep the IV from moving. He was so exhausted from fighting them that by the end he just lay still and cried softly.

After the trauma of inserting an IV was over, the nurses let us sit with him in the dark to help him calm down. I rocked and sang to him. He fell asleep in my arms.

They finally came in to take him to the MRI room. We were able to go with him. I held him while they started the drugs and he fell asleep. Watching him get an IV was terrible, but when the nurse told us to kiss him goodbye and leave the room, I struggled not to cry. Leaving him was the hardest thing. He looked so peaceful.

We waited in the patient room. The MRI took less than 5 minutes. We were prepared for the anesthesia to take 15-30 minutes to wear off. Before we knew it, a nurse was carrying him down the hall back to us. He was already awake.

I nursed him and he forgave his nurses. By the time we left, he was happy and even smiled and waved goodbye to the nurses who had to insert the IV.

We went to Chick-fil-a and then drove home. Our little guy didn’t nap much the rest of the day, but went to sleep at 5pm and slept through the night, only waking to nurse. He was so exhausted.

And so we waited.

The Results
We tried our best to not worry; to continue to trust in God that it would all be ok. Friends reached out to say they had similar experiences and their babies were fine. We updated our families and waited for the results.

The afternoon after the MRI, the neurologist’ office called me. Jack’s results were NORMAL. A huge sense of relief flowed over me. I cried. I am so thankful that Jack is ok.

Part of me felt guilty because I know that somewhere another mom received different news. My heart aches for the parents who receive the dreaded call with bad news. They will always be in my thoughts and prayers.

Children are this amazing gift that we have been entrusted with. They are ours. It is scary and awesome that we get to watch a part of ourselves grow up and form into little people. And we have to trust that it will be ok. I think that everyone’s ok is different. For some, ok will be really hard. But we have to trust that whatever happens, it will be ok.This old hymn has been in my head since that first doctor’s appointment:

Walking in sunlight all of my journey,
Over the mountains, through the deep vale;
Jesus has said, I’ll never forsake thee—
Promise divine that never can fail. 

Refrain:
Heavenly sunlight! Heavenly sunlight!
Flooding my soul with glory divine;
Hallelujah! I am rejoicing,
Singing His praises, Jesus is mine!

Shadows around me, shadows above me
Never conceal my Savior and Guide;
He is the light, in Him is no darkness,
Ever I’m walking close to His side.

In the bright sunlight, ever rejoicing,
Pressing my way to mansions above;
Singing His praises, gladly I’m walking,
Walking in sunlight, sunlight of love.