A Year Changes Everything

One year today, a baby girl was born.  We named her Ruby and were itching to get to the hospital and hold her and bring her home.  We had spent a couple of months getting to know her birthmom and getting used to the idea of having a girl around here.  Finally, a week before her due date, I decided to get her room ready.  I had hesitated because we had already had two adoptions fail in the previous year.  That was one of the hard things was packing up the room the previous two times.  But, this one looked good.  And what were the odds of us having another one go wrong?  So, I decorated it and sorted clothes and laughed at the idea of Blake dressing a girl.

Two days passed.  We waited and waited for someone to tell us we could go get her.  I started to get nervous, but still...the odds were with us.  This couldn't happen a third time.

We still have no idea what was really going on.  All we know is that on January 9th, we got The Call...again.  No baby girl.  Ruby would not be ours.  I don't remember much.  I remember calling the first person on my phone list...my poor Aunt Laurie who answered only to hear me sobbing and she couldn't do anything to help.  Jordan was sitting in his high chair watching me with a confused look on his face. At some point I went for a walk in the freezing rain that was coming down.  The Polks sent us pizza.  Blake's mom came over.  I really can barely remember anything except that feeling.  The feeling of being betrayed, afraid of the future, grieving over the loss, and despair over my inability to have biological children.  I desperately wished for that control that I wanted over my own life that other people seemed to have (Lies, I know!).

It was hard to see what God was doing.  What I didn't know is that I was already pregnant with a little boy.  I didn't see what was coming.

I didn't see Alison jumping up and down screaming "You're pregnant!" as I tried to process what that test was showing me.

I didn't see the joyous and completely shocked faces of our family and friends as we shared the news.

I didn't see the night of the baby dedication (before most of our church family knew the news) where we knew God had provided a baby but we still couldn't bring ourselves to walk in that sanctuary, knowing that there were three babies that we dreamed of raising to walk with the Lord who were in other homes.

I didn't see the nausea and the difficulties of the first trimester.

I didn't see the day where we found out our baby was a boy and we gave him the name Marcus. 

I didn't see the surprisingly difficult task of packing up all of the girl clothes in that closet, but then the joy of pulling out all of our boy stuff and getting it ready.

I didn't see the laughs we would get from people's comments about how hot it would be all summer and how miserable I would be (like I hadn't already thought of that!).

I didn't see the misery of the last couple of weeks when I was practically begging my doctor to get him out.

I didn't see the crazy day when Marcus decided to come, right in the middle of an OU game that Blake was attending.

I didn't see the sweet little baby that they gave me to hold.  Oh, he is sweet.

I didn't see the evenings with my boys where Marcus just watched his brother and giggled at all of the funny things he did.

I didn't see any of this coming.  And yet, God did.  God knew exactly what was coming.  He had a plan.  I never lost faith, but I definitely asked questions.  I still have some questions.  But I do know that God is good.  That he gave us the desire for another baby and He gave us a baby, in his unique timing.  He worked miracles and gifted us with this precious baby boy who I just adore.  I am a Mommy of two boys and I wouldn't change my life for anything.  Because I know that I have exactly what I need. 

Wasted Time

I can't sugar-coat it...it's been a hard few days.  Let me explain how we got to where we're at with me on the couch and Blake being Mr. Mom.

About a month after Marcus was born, I started to feel pain in my hip (or so I thought).  I thought it was a muscle issue, but every time I went for a walk, it would get worse.  I felt the pain begin to radiate down my leg and into my foot.  Nothing made it feel better, even rest.  Then came the tingling and the sensation of a lump on the bottom of my foot.  I figured that it was about time to seek professional advice!

My family doctor immediately suspected a disc issue and within two days, I had an x-ray and an MRI and went to visit a physical therapist.  While waiting for the test results, I went to several appointments with the therapist and nothing we did helped at all.  Finally the results were in...a very severe herniation of my L-5/S-1 disc.  I cried and the doctor was so compassionate and assured me that yes, I was too young for this nonsense.  Surgery was in my future.  The question was, what kind of surgery and could I be fixed?

We visited the neurosurgeon the Tuesday before Thanksgiving and loved him.  He was compassionate and reassuring.  We were excited to hear that my issue can be fixed with a procedure called a "microdiscectomy".  It's an out-patient surgery where he goes in and removes the part of the disc that is rubbing against my nerve.  It wasn't all good news.  My two lowest discs are degenerated, meaning that I've got to get it together and strengthen my core and get in better shape if I want to avoid future pain and surgery.

Sounds great, doc.  Fix me up and I'll get on it.  A pretty easy solution to my problem sounded like just want I needed.

Fast forward to Christmas Day.  I take my last ibuprofen and get ready for 5 days of increased pain as I prepared for surgery on December 31st.  We were ready.  Friends were planning on bringing us meals before and after.  Blake would be home in plenty of time for me to recover somewhat.  I started doing my pre-surgery soap every day in the shower.  Ready to go. 

The day before surgery, I was in a significant amount of pain but oh, so close to the finish line.  Then my phone rang.  It was a guy at the hospital calling to tell me how much our out of pocket would be.  OK.  Thought we had already figured that out, but fine.  "Your insurance has informed us that they are willing to cover $825.  So, that's going to be $22,000 that you will be responsible for.  You can either pay that in small amounts through our payment plan or you can bring $12,000 to the surgery and we'll just call it a day" (This is a summary).  Apparently this gentleman thought I was a Gaylord by the matter-of-fact way he told me this little nugget of information.  As I started sobbing, I managed to say "My husband will call you back."  Blake called back and said "Sorry, we're going to have to reschedule this surgery."

It was so perfect.  We had all the details worked out.  One more day of pain and then I was free to live my life again.  Nope.  Wrong.

So, we're in limbo.  I'm still avoiding the pain meds just in case they can squeeze me in early next week. (It's Friday afternoon and I'm still waiting).  The planner in me is stressing out because it was perfect...Blake was going to be home.  Meals would be provided.  Who is going to watch the kids?  How am I going to manage them until this? What if people who brought us meals don't want to do it again? Etc. Etc.

Then yesterday, I was putting Marcus in his swing and I felt it.  If you have back issues, you know what "it" feels like.  It's the immediate realization that something happened that you can'5 un-do and it's going to be a hard few days to two weeks coming up.  I spent all day yesterday on the couch.  It's not as bad as it's been before in the past, but it hurts and I can't do much with the kids.  I am beyond thankful that Blake is here.

So, what is God doing?  Well, I'm not completely sure, to be honest.  I've had my moments where I questioned what is going on.  It was too perfect.  I had a problem and it was going to be fixed.  Done.  Move on with my life.

But God has been pounding something into my heart the past couple of days.  Today is the day He made.  It's not what I thought it would be when I put my weekly calendar up on my fridge.  Today was healing day #2, not laying around day #2 waiting to find out if/when I can have surgery.  Today was supposed to be a day where I could go for a walk and experience life without the leg pain.  Instead, it's a day where I watch my husband work so hard to do the things around here that I'm supposed to be doing.  It's a day where Jordan climbs in my lap and says "Mommy, why are you sad?  Does your back hurt?"  Yes it does, sweet thing. 

But it's the day He made.  It's not a wasted day.  I have the kind of personality that measures the success of the day with of my to-do list.  Did I get the dishes done after every meal?  Excellent.  Did we go to the park? Great.  Did I make a dent in the laundry? Yep. Awesome.  Good, I did my job and brought glory to my Father.  On normal days, this might be the case but what is "normal" anyway?

I have examples in my head of women who are dear to me who used their "wasted time" to glorify God.  Kelsey wrote encouraging notes to me on days where she was suffering from cancer.  Ann prays for people while she is at home healing from cancer surgery.  I have something to do with today.  Just because I can't "do tasks" does not mean I am wasting the day.  I am responsible to glorify God with THIS DAY.  This day where I can barely walk.  This day when I have to ask my husband to put my baby in my lap so I can hold him.  This day when I won't make any progress on the house.  This day when I can't do tummy time with Marcus and when I can't take Jordan to the park. 

This is the day that the Lord has made.  Let me rejoice and be glad in it.  And not waste it bemoaning all of the things I can't do.  There is plenty for me to do right here on the couch while I wait to see what He will give me to do tomorrow.