Happy First Birthday, Liam!

Dear Liam,

It’s crazy that a YEAR AGO today I woke up at 2 am seeing stars with an undeniable pressure headache. I remember laying there and fighting the conviction I was feeling. I knew that my symptoms were indicative of a serious spike in blood pressure, but I also knew that pushing my nurse call button would most likely result in your immanent delivery—something we had been praying would be delayed for the past 43 days.

As much as we knew God was with us, {and as much as He had proven Himself again and again}, it was still terrifying to not know what was on the other side of that operating room. I pushed that button. And the nurses and doctors came and confirmed what I thought to be true—my body was done being the safest place for you. I could carry you no longer. As they prepped me for my emergency surgery, the tears rolled down my cheeks onto the sterile floor. The lights were bright. The hustle and bustle was robotic and chaotic and yet, organized.

As they held the mask up to my face to put me to sleep, I closed my eyes and said, “Okay Jesus…” I had no idea what was on the other side of that operating room. We didn’t know how you would arrive. If you would be able to breathe. If you would have any serious brain bleeds or complications. We had no idea what to expect…

And today we are celebrating your one year birthday. That is UNREAL. Not only was your birth story incredible, but the back story as well. There were so many days that we were certain that we’d never meet you, be your parents, kiss you or hug you.

But those days are gone. And you are here. And you are ours. And we have gotten to spend the last year living life with you, watching you grow, meet new milestones, and become the little man that you are becoming. It has been such a joy.

The joy is sweeter for us because of the heartache. I’ve been reading through old blog posts as we faced some of the challenges in the hospital a year ago when you came early…I found this quote I had blogged that so perfectly describes your whole story!

“The saint is hilarious when he is crushed with difficulties because the thing is so ludicrously impossible to anyone but God.”

Your conception and birth were so LUDICROUSLY impossible, son. Told we would never conceive. Failed transfer. Successful second transfer, but tragic miscarriage of your twin at 6 weeks with heavy bleeding. Broken water at 23 weeks. Early delivery at 29 weeks. COME ON! You can’t make that up. How are you here?

I found this other excerpt from a post that I wrote two weeks in to being admitted to the hospital. I was having a particularly difficult day.

“…we have had to have some incredibly difficult conversations.

Like the one where the intake nurse said, “I’m sorry. Viability is 24 weeks. You are 23 weeks, 4 days. I’m not sure what they will be able to do.”

Like the one where the doctor told us that our chances of our son surviving birth were less than 10% and chances of serious disability 100%.

Like the one where the neonatologist had to honestly walk us through what it would look like to swaddle our baby and spend his last moments alive holding him and saying goodbye.

Like the one Jason and I had a few days ago as we waited for the doctors to come and get me for an emergency c-section.

Me: {with tears streaming down my face} “Babe, he could die today.”

Jason: “I know.”

Long pause. Silence as we look into each other’s eyes and let the gravity and weight of it hit us. It’s too much. He squeezes my hand. We are terrified.

Me: “But if he makes it, I will be recovering from surgery so I want you to go be with him.”

Jason: “I don’t want to see him without you being there, but I will go if that’s what you want.”

Me: “It is. But I want you to be prepared for what he will look like. He will be hooked up to all sorts of machines and have cords and wires all over him. He will look scary.”

Jason: “He will look like my son.”

Raw.

These are the conversations we have had to have and the circumstances we have had to deal with and the emotions we have had to address. Facing the possibility of your son’s death is impossible. Impossible, friend. It’s too much. It chokes the air out of you. It turns the world black. And upside down. Everything feels broken. And hopeless. And like you are losing control.

Enter Jesus.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid. (John 14:27 ESV)

And, miracle of miracles. Our hearts are not troubled and our hearts are not afraid. We have a peace that passes understanding. Because of Jesus. The Restorer. The Redeemer. The Healer. The Comforter. He is good. He is good. He is good. He is good. Our promise is in Him. He loves Liam more than we ever could. He walks with us.

That holds true today. You didn’t die. You lived. And we praise God and give Him all the glory and all the thanks and all the praise. He has been good to us, we and we celebrate Him and you and the gift of being a family today.

Happy First Birthday, Lilo Man. We love you.

Mama and Dad

Here are some fun throwback pics from the last year!

One Year

Hard to believe, right?

A year ago today, I was in the in-between. I had just turned 30 the day before {I still stare at this picture and look into my own eyes and want to tell myself to buckle up—there is something about my smile that is just so NAIVE!}. We had had a normal, quiet celebration at home. It would be a normal, mundane day. The details of which I cannot remember {other than eating ice cream cake for breakfast}. I remember being really tired that night {more than normal for a pregnancy, I guess} and going to bed at 8:30 or 9.

Four hours later I would wake up with really bad heartburn. I got out of bed, went to the bathroom, grabbed a few Tums and chewed them on my way back into bed. I laid down, and as I was pulling the covers back up I felt a huge gush! I lowered the covers to see what it was and SAW the second huge gush and that it was clear fluid.

I shook Jason awake, calm but simultaneously FRANTIC {I knew it was my water}. He helped me back into the bathroom where I continued to gush fluid. I said, “We have to go in right now.” I tried calling my parents. It was 4am in NY. No answer. I called again. No answer. I called my mother-in-law. She picked up, concern in her voice. “My water just broke. We’re going in.” She said she would meet us there. I got changed. Black yoga pants. My black fleece. My gray slippers. A blue three-quarter sleeve stretchy shirt. {Side note: I wouldn’t let anyone take the outfit home. The entire time I was in the hospital it hung in my closet. I wanted it to be the outfit I wore OUT of the hospital. It was—NOT my fav pic, but it illustrates my point}.

The drive to the hospital was a short 5 minutes. Jason dropped me at the door so that he could go and park. I walked up to the desk {it all seems so surreal now—like I should have been running and yelling or something} and calmly said, “I think my water just broke. I’m 23 weeks pregnant.”

I remember the young girl’s expression going from somewhat uninterested {after all I looked like any other schlep walking in to the ER in the middle of the night—not bleeding, crying, or yelling} to on high alert. She picked up the phone immediately and said, “I’m going to need someone immediately from L&D.” Before she finished taking my information, a young twenty-somethings nurse dude came out from the automatic doors pushing a wheel chair.

It was for me.

“Oh, okay.” I thought. I see what you’re doing here. You’re taking this seriously. So this is serious. Okay. I mean. I knew it. But when they knew it {and they were the professional checker-inners}, it made it seem more serious. And then it just got more serious from there.

Side note: I remember starting to cry as they wheeled me down the hall into Labor and Delivery. I had toured that hospital only a few months before and had pictured “this day” as something different entirely. More jolly. And exciting. And less terrifying. And more timely? Or something.

The first nurse came in and started asking questions. She was NO NONSENSE, ALL BUSINESS and somewhat intimidating. I remember her saying, “I’m so sorry that this has happened.” And something about “24 weeks being viability.” I didn’t know what that meant as far as what they would do for Liam if he tried to come that night. I wanted her to tell me he would be okay. That they would save him. I thought he was coming. I thought for sure he was coming. Babies come when your water breaks, right?

The doctor tested the fluid and confirmed that it was, in fact, amniotic fluid. {While I continued to gush on the exam table}. She was a resident that they had awoken from some sort of deep slumber. She looked very sorry too. She told me so.

While the doctor and nurses were in and out we got a hold of my childhood friend from NY who kindly offered to go over to my parents’ house in the middle of the night in the middle of winter to give them the news that my water had broken in the middle of my pregnancy.

No one wants to hear a knock on their door at 4 am. No one wants to be the one knocking. It was very kind of her and that’s how we got in touch with my parents to let them know what had happened.

After the medical team had concluded that my water had broken and that I was neither contracting nor dilated, they brought me to my very own room on the L&D hall. Little did I know I would return to that hall {after “living” in one other one for 44 days} to recover from delivery at 29 weeks and 5 days. I met Jan, my very first nurse, and she prepared me for what was to come with all of the antibiotics {to prevent infection} and steroids {to help Liam’s lungs}. My mother in law arrived. She sat with us and brought some calm and comfort to the situation. We were quiet a lot. I was cold and shivery a lot. I had to pee a lot {which was difficult since I was now hooked up to all sorts of wires and machines}.

After a few hours they said they had to move me over to PCSU {my “real” home}. My mother in law headed home. Jason went to move the car to a more “permanent” location. I cried as they wheeled me there. The halls were empty and quiet. A few staff members passed me and looked down at me with obligatory/awkward half-smiles. When Jan left, I was scared. I wanted her to stay with me. I cried and said, “I wish you could stay as my nurse.” She looked back and said, “Oh, you will be just fine.” I could tell she wanted to say more—and that she was concerned for me. But she left it at that.

It was somewhere around 5 or 6 am on January 18th.

That was the beginning of the craziest 100 days of our lives. And this…THIS GUY…{my real life Superman} is the amazing result. Such a miracle and such a blessing. It’s pretty cool to be on the other side of this story now that we know how it ended.

I am reminded that God is always good. That God is always in control. And that He always knows what He is doing. Never once does He slumber. Never once does He “sleep on the job.” He has been exceedingly gracious and kind to me and to my family and I worship Him alone and give Him glory alone.

8 The LORD is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and rich in love.9 The LORD is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made. 10 All you have made will praise you, O LORD; your saints will extol you. 11 They will tell of the glory of your kingdom and speak of your might, 12 so that all men may know of your mighty acts and the glorious splendor of your kingdom. 13 Your kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and your dominion endures through all generations. The LORD is faithful to all his promises and loving toward all he has made. 14 The LORD upholds all those who fall and lifts up all who are bowed down. 15 The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food at the proper time. 16 You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing. 17 The LORD is righteous in all his ways and loving toward all he has made. 18 The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. 19 He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them. 20 The LORD watches over all who love him, but all the wicked he will destroy. 21 My mouth will speak in praise of the LORD. Let every creature praise his holy name for ever and ever. {Psalm 145:8-21}

Here is my first post that I wrote after being admitted to the Hospital. It was entitled, “Moving into the Hospital.” Little did I know…

{Side note: I am going to TRY and reblog each day’s post from last year on the date that I wrote it so I can remember the journey now that I’m on this side of it. This is mostly for my own interest because I want to remember all that God did, but feel free to join me if you’d like!}

Well, I figured it was time to update our blog family as well, since I’m not connected to you all through Facebook and you wouldn’t otherwise know what’s going on. We post to petition your prayers…

Yesterday morning, January 18th at 1am, my water completely, and unexpectedly broke. We rushed to the hospital to have this confirmed. During testing I continued to gush fluids. Doctors immediately began running tests on fluids, doing an ultrasound, monitoring fetal heartbeat and pumping in antibiotics and steroids. I was 23 weeks, 4 days. “Viability” is 24 weeks. For me, that will be Monday, January 21st.

I have now made it 34 hours with no signs of labor. My cervix is completely closed, no contractions, and no indications of infection. I’ve also had no more gushing since yesterday early morning. Jesus is answering our prayers.

Statistically, the situation is very serious. 50% of women go into labor within 48 hours of water breaking, and 90% go into labor within a week. If I were to deliver Liam before Monday, his chance of survival is as low as 10% with 100% chance of serious birth defects. If I make it past Monday, his survival chance goes up to 60% and risk of defect down to 30%. The main concern is pulmonary and whether his little lungs would be able to respond to intubation. Next concern would be hemorrhaging of the brain during labor.

That being said, my doctors {who have been hand selected by God and so unbelievably amazing, knowledgable, honest and yet encouraging}, are cautiously optimistic. It is FANTASTIC that I’m not presenting any signs of labor. It’s wonderful that Liam is continuing to have strong vitals and movement. I’m feeling him all the time and his little heartbeat is staying in the 150′s. I thought I had for sure lost all of my fluid, but the ultrasound indicated I still have a small amount-which is wonderful news. Additionally, I’ve not had any more gushing, which means that the fluids that were lost are being replenished. There have been no signs of infection, which is very important. Liam’s cranium actually measured yesterday at 24w3d. And most importantly, he weighed in at 590 grams or 1lb5oz, which exceeds the ideal minimum of 500 grams for the intubation tube. His size is a little bit advanced for his gestational age. Go, Liam, go!

Here is how you can specifically pray for our situation. We are overwhelmed by the prayer support and thank you for bringing Liam’s life and health before our Father in heaven!

Please pray that:

*I would not begin contracting especially before Monday, and for many weeks to come

*I would not develop any infection

*My membranes would reseal and completely replenish the amniotic fluid and sterile, safe environment for Liam

*Liam’s vitals would remain strong and there would be no fetal distress or sudden death

*Steroids and antibiotics would do exactly what they are supposed to do

*Doctors and nurses would be
given wisdom and would be agents of God in both mine and Liam’s care

*God would miraculously grow Liam more quickly than normal

*I would be in this hospital room for months to come, making it to at least 34 weeks

*Liam, Jason and I are able to rest

*God would provide financial favor through insurance and remainder of costs

*God would grant grace and peace for Jason as he sits by my side and for us both as we face the long journey ahead

*Many people would see Jesus through Liam’s story, including those we meet here at the hospital

Thank you.

Been singing this to my sweet boy this morning:

“No guilt in life
No fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From life’s first cry
To final breath
JESUS COMMANDS YOUR DESTINY.”

We are at peace knowing that our Father loves Liam more than we ever can and that every day for Liam is numbered by the King of kings and Lord of lords. The one who IS love. The one who IS faithfulness. The one who IS goodness. To Jesus be all the glory.

Three Months Today, Three Weeks Tomorrow

Today I will say to my baby boy: Happy 3 Months!

Tomorrow I will say: Happy 3 Weeks!

I love it. This special little boy has multiple ages. That’s what happens when you come 11 weeks early, I suppose. And just to give him a third age, he’s also over 10 years old, being that he was created around 2001 and frozen as an embryo since then. Yup. If that’s not confusing, I don’t know what is.

He’ll get it though. He’s a smarty pants. I can tell already. So Happy 3 Months, little man. For today. Tomorrow, who knows how old you’ll be. 🙂

Sleepy Saturday

So this happened yesterday.

This picture is the epitome of everything I longed for so desperately while we were in the hospital those 97 days. Just to be on the couch in my home with my boys. Normal. Comfortable. Snuggling and loving on each other. I really really love this picture of Jason and Liam.

And I wanted to also share a picture of my “Push Present.” Jason bought me this ring with an aquamarine center stone. Aquamarine is the birthstone for March, Liam’s birth month.

Now whenever I look down at my hand I smile. You know what makes me smile in particular about this ring? Aquamarine is a beautiful stone, but it is subtle. Nothing bright or brilliant going on here. It’s a clear, very light blue. Not flashy. And it reminds me of the humility that I want Liam to have. He is special. He is created by God. His life has been blessed and protected. And God has used his story already. Yes. True. I love it. However, he’s just another baby. I want him to know that he is special, but also be humble. To not think more highly of himself than he ought. To consider others better then himself. So that’s why this ring makes me smile. It’s special and beautiful. But not flashy. Just like Liam will hopefully be.

Have a great Sabbath, everyone.

Home Day 6 Update

Weights.

Today I’m posting about weights. His and mine. First, his. By now it is way safe to say that Liam has passed the 6 pound mark. Which means he has doubled his weight since birth! Here are his milestone weight photos:

Great job, Liam.

Second, my weights. I say weights plural because I have several. I’m not talking about my body weight. In talking about things that are weighing on my mind.

1. My relationship with Jesus

Can’t remember the last time I got out my Bible and spent some solid time studying, journaling and praying.

2. My marriage
We have not had any alone time in three months. The last several days have given us opportunities to just be together without doctors or nurses or friends or family knocking on the door. It has been so invaluable. As awful as this sounds, we did not realize how tired of people we both were. Both of us have just stayed in our pj’s and snuggled on the couch and not really left the house. And we could really use a few more days of that, to be honest. We were worn the heck out. But I want to make sure that we carve out time for us. Time to have adult conversations and check in on one another and keep our marriage first before our son.

3. My house
There will always be chores. There will always be more to do. I’m learning how to do it in between nursing, pumping, burping, changing and soothing. As soon as Jason gets home, I run around the house like a crazy woman starting loads of laundry, dinner and picking up from the tornado that is Kate&Liam during the day. It’s getting done. I’m working harder and being more diligent than I’ve ever been…and I’m giving myself grace. After all, it will get done. Eventually. And it’s just housework. Some of you have been doing this for years. With multiple kids. While working. And you walked to school in the snow. Uphill. Both ways. I know. I’m amazed by the rest of the world. I don’t know how people do it. Major props to you. I’m still figuring it out. I’m still in shock. I’m still adjusting. It’s wonderfully hard and impossibly difficult.

4. Our friends and family and church family
I want to see everyone and talk to everyone and respond to everyone and have you all meet and love and hug on Liam. But I just can’t. I can’t make it to things right now because I’m dog tired, or needing to be with Liam. I am also very very very aware of the importance of us staying healthy so Liam stays healthy. So I’m very cautious about being in crowds right now. That has meant missing out on parties and church and group and meetings and I’m really sad about it. And I feel like I’m letting people down. But I realize I need to let go of that. My JOB right now is to be Liam’s mommy and I need to be healthy to do that so my son can be healthy. Getting sick could be life threatening for him, so you can understand why I am consciously erring on the cautious side.

So I want to say thank you for understanding. I want to say I miss you all very much. I want to say I’m not sure how much longer it will have to be like this. I want to say thanks a million times over for the messages and the prayers and the love. And…for the grace in understanding my absence from things lately.

5. Thank you notes/Responses to messages
I scolded my NICU mommy friend Cortney for posting that she was a loser for not getting thank you notes out for all the things people had done for her. I said, “Friend! People will understand what you’ve been through. And I’m sure they did what they did because they wanted to serve you—not because they expected a thank you note.” And here I am, a few weeks later, feeling tremendously guilty about the thank you note list I have sitting on my dining room shelf collecting dust. It is weighing on me. I’m sorry that I haven’t written them yet. I’m sorry that there are a bazillion amazing comments on here, emails, texts, voicemails, FB messages and comments that I haven’t gotten back to. I’ve read and listened to them all, I promise. And I wanted to write you all back. But I just couldn’t. But THANK YOU ANYWAY. I’m sorry I haven’t personally responded to all of you. For what it’s worth, I wish I could have.

These are just some of the weights I’ve been carrying lately. I’m writing this to acknowledge that I need to set some of them aside. I’m writing this to acknowledge that right now my priorities are Jesus, Jason, Liam and my house. And I’m doing the best I can, but I still need to get better. I still need to figure out how to swing my schedule and my days now that Liam is here.

So with that being said, my practical plan is to fast from blogging and Facebook and texting and…well, people. For at least a week. I need to put my phone down and take some time to just take some time. I gotta lay these weights down so I can pick them back up again in the right order, with the right balance.

So thanks for reading and checking in on us so faithfully these last 103 days. I’ll be back in a week or so.

Side note food for thought: I’ve had so many of you faithful readers say that you would check the blog multiple times a day for an update…

If you want {and if you haven’t already}, you can click on the “subscribe/contact” tab above and enter your email address so you can get a notification when a new blog post is uploaded. That way you don’t have to keep checking back each day and can get updates when posts are uploaded.

That is all. Bye for now. We love you guys.

Home Day 5 Update

“Another day is done
You’re one step closer
To the man that you’ll become
So go to sleep, my son.”

So I downloaded Nick Lachey’s Lullaby album tonight and played it while we were putting Liam to sleep. It’s sweet. I like it. These are the lyrics to one of the songs.

It’s crazy wonderful to think about the man that Liam will become. To think that each night, as I tuck him in, another day is done. And he’s one step closer to the man he will become. Everyone tells me it goes fast. They’re not kidding.

Yesterday was 8 weeks since he was born.

56 days done. I don’t want it to go quickly. I really don’t. But at the same time, I’m excited for what’s to come. I don’t want to rush any stages, but in the end…I want to know what sort of human this little man will become. Man, I pray for the man he will become.

I pray he will live up to his name and be strong and courageous. That he will love Jesus and others well. That he will be humble and will know his need for a Savior. That he will be quick to repent and ask for forgiveness and in turn be forgiving and gracious. That he will be rip-roaring funny and will have hobbies and passions and things that he’s excited to do and talk about. That people will want to be around him-that his smile will light up a room. That he will be welcoming toward others and missional in all that he does. That he will want to learn and study and ask questions and grow. That he will love the outdoors and see God’s hand stamped on Creation. That he will have a desire to travel and meet people that are different than him. That he will respect women and treat them with dignity and honor. That he will someday be a husband that loves his wife so well that she flourishes under his care. That he will be a daddy that someday wants all of these very same things for his son or daughter. These are just a few of the things that I desire for my son.

And it’s pretty special to hold all 6 pounds of him now and think about it. Someday he will be a man. Someday.

But not today.

Home Day 4 Update

I’m not going to blog forever about our days here at home.

“Home Day 1,348 Update”

Oh boy. That would be a thrilling series, I’m sure. Nail biting, even. Edge of your seat sorta stuff. No, eventually I will move on and blog about something other than Liam. But I’m sure he will always make his way back into my posts. How can he not with a face like this?

Maybe I’ll post for the first 7 days home. Maybe longer. Who knows? I don’t know much these days, but I do know this. I’ve never been more tired or worked so hard at something than being a mom.

But I’ve also never experienced something this rewarding.

Oh my gosh. Being a mom is amazing. I can’t believe Liam is my son. I can’t believe that when he cries I’m the one {and Daddy too, of course} that gets to answer. When he needs something, it’s me that will meet that need. When he’s hungry, I feed him. When he’s wet I change him. When he needs to be soothed and comforted, it’s me that soothes and comforts. When he needs to pee or poop on someone it’s me! {I lost track of how many times I got peed on yesterday. Two? It was at least two. But maybe three? Yeah. I think it was three. But that third one I saw coming and covered that bad boy with a fresh wipe. What’s more…I didn’t get pooped on yesterday. I did Wednesday at the doctor’s office. But not yesterday. Although I did go through four diapers in one changing session last night. Diaper clean and closed. Explosion. Diaper clean and closed. Explosion. Diaper clean and closed. Explosion. You get the idea. But I’d like to draw your attention to my second point. I still did not get pooped on yesterday. I’m practically a professional}.

Back to what I was saying.

I’m his momma. It’s me. For the rest of his early life. It’s me. Wow. What an awesome responsibility. No wonder there’s no sleep initially—it’s all part of a greater plan to get me ready and in shape and prepared for the long haul. I will say this-motherhood is not for the weak at heart.

I laid down for the night last night and the bed felt different to me. More amazing than I remembered. Just like 1:23 am feels like 3 in the afternoon and 3 in the afternoon feels like 1:23 am. And days feel different too. Like, certainly the earth and sun have a new relationship because there are definitely more hours in a day. Cause I’m packing in a heckofalot more crap into one day than I ever have in my life.

I’m also packing in 3 am conversations like this with my half-asleep hubby:

Setting:
It’s 3am. {Oh. I said that already. I guess I just really want to stress that this took place at 3 am. Some people, some of you, even, may not know that there is a 3 am}. Clean diapered Liam is crying hysterically {for the forth time from his crib after an up down, back and forth, wanna eat?, no?, okay, in your crib you go, repeat session}.

Jason: {eyes half open} Want me to put him back?
Me: Put him back where?
Jason: Should I put him back?
Me: {with a super confused look} Where?
Jason: {Pause} I’m not holding him, am I?
And back to sleep he went.

Ha.

You know what? Yes, at the end of the day {what technically is the “end of the day” now, anyway?—it all blurs together}, I’m wiped. I’ve poured every bit of me into being Liam’s mommy and Jason’s wife. It feels amazing and rewarding. A total sense of accomplishment. And with that amazing sense of accomplishment fresh on my mind, I close my eyes and I sleep.

Bahahaha. Syke! No I don’t!

No. I. Don’t.

🙂

Home Day 3 Update

Okay. This is hard.

I have a bazillion times more respect for all the mommies and daddies out there. Sorta feeling like Navy Seal boot camp would look like a vacay in comparison to parenting a newborn. Yay? Nay? A bit if an exaggeration. Perhaps.

Wowzers.

We are like werewolves. Our fangs come out at night when we don’t get our sleep. I snapped at Jason last night when Charlie pooped on the floor. “That’s why the dogs have to go OUT!” I yelled, stating the obvious. “I just took them out.” He said, stating the should be obvious. I hadn’t even noticed he had taken them outside.

I had anger and impatience toward a newborn in my heart last night when Liam wouldn’t nurse but was crying. My sleep was being interrupted. And Jason dropped an expletive this morning when Liam pooped all over his hand and down the changing table.

Pretty, huh? The perfect family, right?

Wrongskies.

Listen. I’m just stripping it naked for you. Lest you have mistakenly begun to assume all is shiny and perfect behind our mcmiracle doors. Nope. {POP}. We are sinners. And I’m stripping it naked for myself too. Lest I have begun to think anything different than my total depravity and total dependence on Jesus. Doesn’t matter how much I love Liam or how long we’ve waited to have him, or how difficult our journey has been. I. Am. Still. A. Sinner. But there is hope for me still. For us. For you.

So, yet again, I fall before you Jesus and confess that I have a wicked heart that has been revealed yet again. Parenting, like anything, is revealing our need, yet again, for a Savior. Here we have yet again, another life opportunity to see that we are broken people with no hope apart from the redemptive work of Jesus on the cross. Today, like every day that we have breath, we need the saving grace of Christ. Today it just happens to be in a new role. As parents.

New role. Same sin. Same amazing grace.

I am so thankful that we can repent and receive grace to help us in our time of need. Jesus, please forgive us.

Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. {Hebrews 4:16}

Do you need to repent to God often about parenting screw ups too?

Home Day 2 Update

Sleep, oh sleep, you’re far from me
You’re now a hot ticket commodity
You hide so well from new mommies like me
Uninterrupted sleep now a fantasy

But in your place are newfound things
His stirrings and tiny eye flutterings
His groans and grunts and happenings
His smiles while mommy attempts to sing

Our snuggles and cuddles bring sheer joy
So what if sleep has been destroyed
He tinier than the tiniest toy
But he’s real, he’s here, he’s my perfect boy

Sayonara sleep!

{My poem should sufficiently explain how wonderfully exhausted we are and how awesomely wonderful being a parent is because I get to cuddle with this…}

And in other news, Liam had his first outpatient doctor appointment yesterday. He weighed in at 5lbs, 15oz…so by our appointment next week he will hit and surpass the 6 pound mark. His doctor was pleased with everything.

We are doing very well. Just tired {duh}! He’s a prince among men and we are so in love. His Great Aunt Loretta left this morning after taking fabulous care of us {including some amazing meals}…

Now…tonight…if you can believe it…it will be our first time on our own as a family {or a couple} since January 18th. No doctors, no nurses, no knocks on the door. Just us. Pretty excited for that. Pretty ready for that. What a whirlwind. 🙂

Home Day 1 Update

So far, so good.

Thankful for 2 simple things.

1.) Rooming in at the hospital

This totally provided us with ten days of supervised practice. Unlimited questions and professional answers. And help. Ten days of around the clock Liam care, or Liam John University as I called it. Time to get over the initial shock of middle of the night feedings and exhaustion. Opportunities to communicate with one another on no sleep. Invaluable.

2.) Our AngelCare monitor

This senses Liam’s movement and breathing. If he were to stop either, an alarm sounds. As a result, I got an amazing three hour nap yesterday and we slept well in between feeding times last night. Imagine that.

Even though rooming in is a standard hospital policy {not usually longer than a few days though} and even though the AngelCare monitor is a consumer product invented by some person and marketed by a company and sold by a retailer, I consider both of these things to be complete and total blessings from God. Two things that He, in His perfect loving kindness and infallible wisdom, provided us with to increase our peace and to give us rest once we were home. So we are thankful. And we worship God for being a kind and thoughtful Father. I hope you do too. He provides for us—even when sometimes it doesn’t directly look like His hand.

It feels amazing to be home, friends. Like being on vacation. I keep waiting for the hospital to call back and say there’s been some mistake and we have to return and stay a few more weeks. Like its some secret that we have to keep…otherwise the hospital “people” will find out and make us go back! 🙂

We sat on our couch and hung out as a family last night. Amazing. Simple. Wonderful.

I was scrolling through some pictures last night and stumbled across this gem. It was taken on my 30th birthday—exactly 2 days before my water would break. Actually 1 1/2 days. If this girl only knew what was in store. I’d tell her to throw her face in the cake and eat it all right then. I’d say, “Buckle up, sister. Storms a’comin.” But I’d also say…”Your God is good. He’s gone before. He’ll walk behind. He’s got His angel armies on your side. You’re about to see the great power and might of your God displayed before your eyes.”

And…I’d also say, “Shave your legs and your pits.”

H.O.M.E.

We are here.

He just ate and now he’s sleeping in my lap in HIS nursery. The dogs are cuddled at my feet. He’s doing just fine. And so am I.

It’s simply wonderful.

Signing off for the day so we can enjoy our boy. We love you all—Look at what the Lord has done. Getting home was the final chapter of this journey. It’s time to close the book and start a whole new adventure. Thank you…a million times over…for praying us home. For praying us through each page of this story. I cannot wait to see what is to come.

We love you guys.

ICN Day 13 Update

{Updates below}

Written last night:

I can’t believe this is my last night in this hospital. How can a place become such an integral part of your life…so unexpectedly? I still remember being 8 weeks pregnant and pulling up to the front of the hospital for our tour. I had no idea what this hospital would mean to our family.

I had no idea that I would enter through the emergency room with no more amniotic fluid and exit out an unassuming, quiet back entrance with my 7 week old {and yet, three week early} son.

I had no clue about all of the friendships I would make. Forgive me if I forget someone, but I want to pay them tribute somewhere.

Jan
Bev
Brooke
Renata
Dawn
Mary
Terry
Sue
Carol
Carol
Karen
Becky
Shannan
Shelanda
Barb
Frank
Sarah
Andrea
Judy
Amanda
Jessie
Virginia
Suzanne
Jane
Pam
Minerva
Victoria
Lexi
Sarah
Sam
Jen
Amy
Jamie
Jamie
Aimee
Amy
Sandra
Michelle
Joan
Kelly
Leanne
Deanna
Kathy
Alisha
Joy
Debbie
Liz
Sharrie
Kimberly
Laurie
Kristen
Lacey
Jen
George
Darla
Tish
Velma
Claudia
Jill
Susan
Susan
Sarah
Katie
Jane
Liz
Janice
Lisa
Dr. Jordan
Dr. “Spider-Man”
Dr. Swanson
Dr. Lee
Dr. Drennan
Dr. Molina
Dr. McKinney
Dr. Chao
Dr. Silva
Dr. Golden
Dr. Soto
Dr. K
Dr. Wilhelm
Dr. Deem

And, my buds:
Katie and Cortney

TG, you have been good to me. The people, really. Amazing, amazing people. I love ya! {But I’m still ready to go}

I will update this throughout the day as we find out the plan.

8am Update:
It’s happening. Right now!!! Going home!!!

{made by one of his nurses last night—check out the footprints}

And Then There Was One

When Liam holds his breath, or chokes, or forgets to breathe, an alarm goes off. For the last 56 days this alarm has monitored his oxygen saturation and has been a part of the extensive system of wires and machines that have kept my son alive.

That monitor just came off.

And then there was one.

This final wire monitors his heart rate. I have been listening/watching Liam’s heart rate since I got here. Every single day since January 18th. 96 days in total. It will come off on his 97th day. And his heart will keep beating.

And so will mine.

We go home tomorrow. I’m ready friends. It is time. As I was thinking about this post and started to write about Liam holding his breath, I started to get a picture of what walking into our house will be like tomorrow. And I started to cry.

Because I realized I have been holding MY breath for 96 days.

And I’m ready to breathe again. A deep, long, unencumbered breath of home. My breathing hasn’t been hooked up to any monitors, but it hasn’t needed to be. My Father in Heaven has been monitoring my breathing every minute of these last three months. And each time that I’ve held it or choked or forgotten to breathe, I know He has gently taken me in His arms and whispered,

“Breathe, Momma. Breathe. I have him.”

So we are good. We are ready. It is time. I want out. Liam needs to breathe in the fresh air and see his nursery and meet HIS dogs. Jason needs to go to work and come HOME to his family and we need to move forward. No wires. No nurses. No doctors. No more hospital walls. All of the things that have been amazing and that have taken care of us…they’ve prepared us to go.

So we will go.

“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” {Joshua 1:9}

ICN Day 12 Update

Wedding vows. A covenant promise said in a ceremony of wedded bliss. Super common. Tradition for centuries.

Why don’t we have parent vows?

We ought to. I mean, really. Lorrie and I were just talking about this. So I’m making my own. Here you go, Liam. Mommy’s vows to you:

“I, Kate, {a.k.a. Mommy}, take thee, Liam, {a.k.a. Skoonch}, to be my chosen son, to snuggle and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for awake times, for sleepy times, in dirty diapers and in wet diapers, to love and to cherish, till your wife do us part {though I will always still be here}, according to God’s perfect plan; and thereto I pledge thee my myself to you.”

I. Love. This. Little. Boy.

I know all of you told me a long time ago that he knew I was his momma {but I was still having a hard time really believing it}. But now I know. I can see it in his eyes and his body language and in the way he responds to my voice. The White Stripes sing a song that goes, “I can tell that we are gonna be friends.”

Yup.

Liam weighed in at 5lbs, 12oz yesterday. He also {drumroll please} passed his 90 minute car seat challenge. This means that there is nothing other than time ticking that is holding us back from going home. We can be discharged Tuesday afternoon if we choose and if he has no events. Or, we can room in for an additional 24 hours off the monitors. Not sure what we will choose.

Either way it’s coming fast. I’m feeling more and more confident and more and more ready. It’s time. Rip the bandaid off and to be home with this little man:

And with this amazing Daddy:

ICN Day 11 Update

Overall, it was a good day. My Aunt Lorrie made it here and has joined the team. Sweet man got a bath and this happened afterwards:

And it looks like he may be coming off the monitors some time on Tuesday if he continues to look good. Maybe we will be home on Wednesday or Thursday.

With our discharge rapidly approaching, I wanted to share a request with our friends and family so we all know what to expect. We plan on being extremely cautious with Liam once we get home because of his increased risk and susceptibility to illness and infection. I copied this text from a Kid’s Health article to better help everyone understand the reasons for the precautions:

Expect to live quietly with your preemie at first. Because their immune systems are still developing, preemies are susceptible to infections. Therefore, you need to take some precautions. Visits outside the home should be limited to the doctor’s office for the first several weeks, especially if your baby is discharged during the winter months.

Because doctors’ offices commonly have several kids with viral infections, try scheduling your appointment as the first of the day or request to wait in an examining room instead of the main waiting area. Ask the doctor how limited your baby’s contact with other kids and adults should be during these first weeks.

Most doctors recommend not visiting public places with preemies. And limit visitors to your home: anyone who is ill should not visit, nobody should smoke in your home, and all visitors should wash their hands before touching the baby. Talk to your doctor about specific recommendations — some family visits may need to be postponed to allow your little one’s immune system to grow stronger.

We don’t have an exact timeline for what this will specifically look like, and we understand that so many of you will want to meet him and snuggle him and kiss on him, but please just understand that there may be a delay or adjustments that will need to be made {washing hands, staying a few feet away from his face, no group settings for a while, limited or no holding}.

Thanks for understanding and supporting us as we try and provide the safest and healthiest environment for him when he comes home!