New Routines

In many ways, life is pretty much the same. We are still the blessed parents of two beautiful children, who sometimes seem to make it their collective mission to drive us to the brink of insanity. We still struggle to keep up with the vacuuming and the bathrooms and the laundry and we still care less about those things than we probably should, but we play in the floor a lot and that just seems better. We still struggle to come up with a dinner plan in the evenings, even if we've been home all day, and we still frequent Chik-fil-A. We still have bottles to wash and formula to mix and stories to read and toys to fix and the list goes on. Life is pretty much the same.

We just get up a little earlier to do chest PT in the mornings, to keep her lungs as clear as they can be and prevent infection. We add thick, smelly, stain-inducing, bright orange vitamins to her first and last bottles of the day, because her tiny body has a hard time absorbing vitamins A,D,E and K. We add 1/8 tsp of table salt to her formula for the day, because she sweats out more salt than most babies do. We mix formula at even more intense concentrations, because she needs more calories to cling to the bottom of the growth curve, and hopefully to start climbing further up it. We empty capsules of pancreatic enzymes into tiny quantities of apple sauce and scrape them onto the roof of her mouth before each feeding, because her natural enzymes are stuck in the sticky mucous of her pancreas and she doesn't digest well without extra help. We give extra syringes of medicines like Zantac for reflux and antibiotics for cough when needed. 

Life isn't all that much different. We have just had some extra items to add to the daily routine here recently. We are working out a system that is manageable for us, and I think it's going pretty well. Nora is a champ with all of it - we really couldn't ask much more of her. She occasionally fusses through PT or tongue-thrusts medicine right back out of her mouth (because she is still young enough to have a tongue thrust reflex!), but she takes it all without much protesting. She is gaining weight, albeit slowly, and she is a MUCH much happier baby. Sleeping through the night now, too! 

This happens to also have been an extremely difficult month of work for me, working all hours of the day and night and averaging 70 or so hours a week. I finally have a few days off right now, which has allowed me to focus on snuggling my girl and being here for her. It has been so very difficult, being away from her right now. My poor son misses me (and tells me at least 5 times a day, even when I'm home), which is simultaneously heartwarming and heartbreaking as well. My poor husband has been left to figure a lot of this new stuff out on his own, to comfort our son, to take care of our daughter's extra needs, to cook and clean and mix formula and read stories and give baths... And still he somehow manages to be concerned with packing lunch food for me. Mind-blowing.

It all amounts to a difficult time of transition for our family, but also a beautiful time of perspective-shifting growth and self-sacrifice, and yet another opportunity to experience His awe-inspiring Grace. There's no other explanation for the way that we are making it through this crazy mess. This is the work He has laid before us in this season of our lives, and we are finding that, with the right perspective, we can approach it joyfully and with great anticipation for the blessings that are to come. Not because God "owes us" after all this, but because we are learning (first-hand) that His greatest blessings naturally flow out of life's struggles. 

When the tests are wrong

Medical tests always come with a caveat... They are never 100% accurate. There is always some margin of error, a "false negative" or "false positive" rate. In medicine, we generally trust them anyway. We are aware of the ones that are particularly dicey, and we take those results with an appropriately sized grain of salt when evaluating a patient and making treatment decisions. But there are so many tests that we have grown to trust almost without a second thought, and that can be a dangerous thing.

The state newborn screen is one of those tests that seems pretty legit. Most babies are fine, and most of them have a normal newborn screen (heel stick or PKU, as it is often referred to), and we confidently move forward with that negative result so long as the baby is doing well. Nora didn't do so well initially, and so we questioned that negative newborn screening result. We know that Ben and I both carry defective copies of the gene for Cystic Fibrosis, and she wasn't gaining weight very well (the typical presenting symptom of infants with CF) so we worried. Her condition was otherwise not terribly concerning for CF, so it was low on the list of possibilities, but it was always there, gnawing away at us. We had other testing done, and it looked like her slow weight gain was due to a food intolerance. We settled on that diagnosis and moved forward with special formula, and she has been thriving since - gaining weight like a champ. But along with that work-up, we had thrown in a CF gene test, just to be sure. Just to take that possibility off the table. The turn-around time for the test is 28 days, so we waited a long time.

Then on Thursday evening, I got a call from our pediatric gastroenterologist (who is also a dear friend of mine). She didn't quite know how to say it, so she just said it. "The test came back positive for CF." 

There it is. Our sweet baby girl has cystic fibrosis.

We cried for an hour or so. We bemoaned the utter unfairness of it all. We questioned why on earth we can't seem to catch a break when it comes to the health of our children - probably the single most important aspect of our lives, second only to our relationship with God. We wondered why, oh why, did this have to happen now - in the midst of my toughest rotation of residency, at the beginning of a 13-day stretch without a day off? 

But then we remembered... Our hope is in Him. Our hope cannot be in our children's health, or in an easy work schedule, or anything of this world. All of those things will fail us at one point or another (or, seemingly, at every turn!). But God is for us. He has known about this diagnosis since time began. This isn't a surprise to Him, and He already has it under control, even in the midst of this crazy time in our lives. We don't have to have it all together, we just have to trust that He does. We just have to be all that Nora needs us to be, to keep her healthy, to advocate for her, to love her just as we have been loving her. 

And as my sister-in-law, an experienced CF mom, reminded me... Nothing has changed. She is the same baby that she was yesterday. She has had CF since she was conceived, we just didn't know it. She is still going to smile her same smile, need her same needs, melt our hearts, work our nerves, grow and thrive and play and laugh... She's still ours. Nothing has changed. We will just be adding some new medications to her routine.

We will be sure to keep you all updated as we navigate this new chapter, and we would appreciate your prayers and encouragement along the way. Nora will have her first appointment at the Johns Hopkins CF Center on Monday.  

Update on Nora's Health

Well, folks... My kids don't give me a break. For anyone who isn't on Facebook and may not be aware, our sweet little Nora has been struggling to gain weight since day one. She was born 6 lbs 9 oz, and at 9 weeks old she still hasn't gained a pound :'(

If you know anything about Cystic Fibrosis, slow weight gain is pretty much the hallmark of CF in infants, so that has certainly been a concern since Ben and I both carry the defective gene. Her state newborn screening test (the "heel stick" or "PKU" test that all infants get) came back negative for CF, which is reassuring, but that still leaves about a 5% chance that she could have the disease. That said, her symptoms have seemed to align more with an allergy-driven inflammation of her gut. She has mucousy green stools, which have tested weakly positive for microscopic blood in the past, she spits up a lot (and it is also mucousy) and even does some large-volume vomiting occasionally. I have spent the past 6 weeks trying to eliminate common allergens like dairy, egg and wheat from my diet, in hopes that we could identify the offending food and keep her on breastmilk. I have had tons of support from Nora's pediatrician, who has never been pushy with formula. Anyone who knows me knows how passionate I am about breastfeeding, so this has been extremely important to me.

Yesterday we saw a pediatric gastroenterologist (Dr B), who also happens to be a personal friend of mine (who I love to pieces). We rehashed Nora's story again, and discussed how to fortify my milk with formula to help her reach an increased caloric goal each day to help her gain,l weight, while in the meantime removing soy from my diet (in addition to the allergens I have already eliminated). She also sent us for some blood work, including a Cystic Fibrosis genetic test, just to take it off the table completely and put our minds at ease. Drawing blood from a 2-month-old is no easy task, and was traumatic for all involved, but in the grand scheme of things it went pretty smoothly.

Later that evening, Dr B called me with rather alarming news... Nora is severely anemic, meaning that her red blood cell count and hemoglobin values were quite low. This is likely an indication that she has been losing more blood through her gut than we thought, and that her allergic colitis is rather significant. Dr B has a hematologist (blood doctor) on board who agrees with the assessment, and recommended very close monitoring with a repeat blood count on Monday. 

The bottom line is that we have run out of wiggle room to try adjusting my diet - we cannot allow her to lose any more blood. Dr B is extremely supportive of breastfeeding and knows how much it means to me, which has made it a little easier for me to hear "it's time". We have had to switch her to a completely hypoallergenic formula, and will be transitioning to a fully hydrolyzed formula on Monday when we can pick up some samples from the office (it is incredibly expensive). This should eliminate the possibility of further inflammation and blood loss, allow her colon to heal, and improve her ability to absorb her calories and gain weight. We are also feeding her formula in an extra-concentrated fashion, to increase the number of calories she's getting per day. 

As you can imagine, I am devastated about having to give up our breastfeeding relationship. It means so much to me. I am also devastated at the idea that, all this time, my efforts to give her what I believed was the absolute best thing for her have been harming her. But knowing that the risks of my milk outweigh the benefits at this point has helped me to let it go. I'm going to continue pumping until the work-up is complete and we're sure that we're sure about this diagnosis, just in case. 

On the bright side, I will have tons of milk to donate, and lots of tiny NICU babies will receive the benefits that I had hoped to provide for my girl. I will also be able to go back to eating like a normal human being, which will be helpful as my residency ramps up and it becomes more and more difficult to cook everything from scratch. Ditching the pump won't hurt my feelings either... Any breastfeeding mom knows the love-hate relationship you develop with the pump! I'm trying to focus on the positive, but I am feeling so. very. sad. I didn't know that yesterday morning when I nursed her, it would be the last time :'( So much of my self-perceived identity as "mommy" seems to be wrapped up in nursing... This bottle feeding thing makes me feel like just any old person who helps take care of her. These are not at all my judgements of formula feeding as a practice, or of moms who formula feed - I have never had these thoughts until I had to make this transition myself. I didn't realize that I would have these feelings. Needless to say, it has been mentally rough. It's not the end of the world, but it hurts.

Please pray for my heart as I get over this loss, but most importantly, please pray for our girl as she recovers. 

Nora's Birth

April 23rd, 2015 was a gorgeous, sunny day... but let's face it - the weather didn't make much difference to us. It was the day that we would finally meet our sweet baby girl. Ten months and two days after we buried our first-born daughter Grace Adalyn, we were on our way to the hospital to welcome her little sister, Nora Grace. Of course, as we turned off of the beltway onto our exit Gracie's song came on the radio, and of course, and I cried. I cried because I missed her, and because I couldn't wait to meet her sister, and because I felt a touch of guilt over that, and because those emotions were just overwhelming.

We arrived and checked in and were escorted back to our pre-op room by a nurse who explained that she was just getting things started for the nurse who would be taking care of us. At some point along the way we heard her mention the new nurse's name: Kayla. Ben's ears perked up and he asked if there was more than one Kayla, to which she replied "no", and we knew that it was our Kayla - one of the two nurses who cared for us during our hospital stay with Gracie. Someone who had met our girl, who had helped us through the most difficult day of our lives, who understood the extra gravity of what was about to happen today. We couldn't believe it. As soon as she entered the room she recognized us and her face lit up! She quickly made arrangements to stay with us through the operation and post-op recovery. As if this day wasn't already going to be incredible, having her there just made our day. I can't even begin to tell you what it meant to us.

After about 2 1/2 hours of IV fluids, consent forms and the Golf Channel, it was time to go. I was relaxed, excited, and so blissfully happy. After our traumatic debacle with Eli and Gracie's stillbirth, I had yet to experience such pleasantness surrounding the birth of a child! The spinal anesthesia went smoothly and quickly, and within a few minutes I was prepped for surgery and chatting with my scrubbed-and-gowned doctor as she made the first incision.

In the span of about 5 minutes, she had exposed my uterus and was maneuvering our baby out into the world. I felt nothing - no pain, not even the slightest discomfort. I found myself laying there just waiting to suddenly feel the sharp, burning pain that I felt through most of Eli's birth, but it never came! My (super-awesome) anesthesiologist set up a mirror so that I could watch the birth. As soon as her little head popped up through the incision our little Nora Grace let out an ear-piercing shriek, and she had arrived!

 These photos taken by Nurse Kayla!

They repositioned my mirror so that I could see her in the corner of the room on the warmer as they cleaned and assessed her. The mood in the OR was so light and joyful; so much laughter and smiling! As I laid there listening to my doctors casually chatting back and forth and watching in the mirror as my husband snapped photo after photo of our new baby girl, it hit me: THIS is how a birth is supposed to be. I'm sure that seems obvious to the rest of the world, but for me, it had never felt this way. I had never been so worry-free and purely happy as my child entered the world.

 

No more than two minutes after Ben had brought her over to me for her first kisses from mommy, my doctor had finished closing and was ready to transfer me to the recovery room. She wasn't kidding when she told me (and Kayla confirmed) that she's fast. In the recovery room Ben immediately passed her over to me and she wasted no time in seeking out her food source - she latched on with little assistance and nursed for the first time.

We had some skin-to-skin time, but it wasn't long before nausea and vomiting forced me to hand her over to daddy. Apparently IV dilaudid is a little too much for me! Vomiting after abdominal surgery isn't terribly pleasant, but it got me a few lovely shots of Ben and his baby girl...

We spent some extra time in recovery while I got over the nausea, but before we left, we snapped a photo with our angel nurse...

 ...And then it was time to head to our room on the Mother Baby Unit, and welcome the onslaught of visitors...

 ...the highlight, of course, being Eli's visit...

He was so terribly excited! That was quite possibly the moment that I had been most looking forward to. He was so sweet when Gracie was born - so excited to meet her and so proud of her. He still talks about her and lists her among his family members. I have always felt like he had something stolen from him when we lost her. He was so sensitive about it all, and he has said and done so many little things that have given me a window into the sadness that he felt, in his own way. Introducing him to another baby sister - one that we would be able to bring home and that he would grow up with - was so very meaningful for us. There just aren't any words.

So, that's the story of how our family grew to 5. This first family photo was impossible - I looked like crap, we couldn't get Eli to look at the camera and smile, and we forgot to include the little lamb that holds Gracie's heartbeat recording. But, this is real life. This was us on April 23rd, 2015. It hasn't gotten much better since then - we're still a mess! - but a beautiful mess.

A New Calling

Our lives have changed dramatically since the loss of our sweet Gracie girl. Our hearts are different, our perspective has changed, and our priorities have been rearranged. Experiencing God's profound peace and grace first-hand, through what was probably the single most devastating event of our lives, left an indelible mark on our family. We grew closer to each other and our bond was strengthened in indescribable ways, but more importantly, we drew exponentially closer to God. That experience has been a testimony-defining one. It will always be a central theme when we tell the story of how we came to know God.

Sure, we were both saved as children when we accepted Jesus and began our lifelong walk with Him. But that walk is an ever-evolving journey of growth. In order to become more like Christ we have to get to know Him, and that tends to happen in tough times. There is nothing quite like the pure, rock-bottom devastation of losing a child to inspire a person to seek His face. Whether that seeking is fueled by anger and frustration, or by a fundamental recognition of ones own inadequacy to make sense of tragedy in this life, you seek Him out. You beg for miracles, you cry out in grief, and in my experience, you ultimately break under the weight of the pain and desperately plead for peace - for the ability to "deal", for the numbing effect of His love, for the perspective it takes to see beyond the injustice and the hurt... for the soul-quieting peace that allows you to simply "be" again, even though you'll never "be" the same. And then He fulfills His promise, and delivers the very peace you need in the very moment you need it most.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."  

Matthew 11:28

"He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall^, but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."  

Isaiah 40:29-31

We have learned, through this loss, something that seems obvious now - that our testimonies are ever-changing. A testimony isn't just the story of "How I Got Saved". For Ben and I, those stories are rather uninspiring. Gracie's life - and the way that God revealed His profound love to us through it - have become a highlight in the stories of our walks with Christ, but in hindsight there's so much more. Allow me to focus more on Ben's story for a moment.

As our dear friend and youth Pastor Kevin described it in his sermon two Sundays ago, losing Gracie left Ben undone - broken down on His knees in awe and wonder at the power of a loving God, who could take the deepest devastation of our lives and turn it into a beautiful and life-altering experience. It brought us back to church. We needed to feel close to Him again, to worship Him as we processed this miracle that He had performed, to reconnect with other believers and share this story. But it wasn't long before we realized that we needed to make a change. We had always enjoyed the sermons and everyone was very nice, but we had never really felt connected or inspired at our church. Kevin and his wife and kids are our neighbors and they had invited us to come and try out their church, so we decided to give it a try. To put it simply, we found our new church family that Sunday. We had never before felt so moved to serve, to connect, to get involved. Before long, Ben was serving as a greeter, helping with weekly set-up, and volunteering with the students ministry. We both took on our church's challenge to read through the Bible in a year, and Ben was waking up in the 4 o'clock hour every morning to read before work. He was leading our family in prayer at dinner time every night. All of these little changes amounted to a shift in spiritual leadership in our home. I watched my husband assume his God-given role in our family. 

Fast-forward to early 2015. Ben began to feel unsettled at his job. I started noticing a dramatic increase in his stress level, and he began to make comments here and there that really made me wonder whether his heart was still in his work. Sometime in early March he finally confessed that he was feeling uninspired, that he didn't want to stay where he was, that he wanted a new job that he could feel passionate about... but he had no idea what he wanted to do. I can only imagine what a terrifying feeling it is to suddenly realize at 30 years old that you have no idea what you want to do with your life, but that's where Ben found himself. In the past he had daydreamed about working at a golf course some day, when I finally make "real doctor money" and we aren't so dependent on his salary, but even golf-related work had lost its appeal. There was one thing, though... just one single light in the darkness. He said that the only thing he felt passionate about was serving his church.

We decided that evening that it was time to pray long and hard for God's guidance. It was time to start the ball rolling toward a big change. We had no idea what serving the church might look like for someone like Ben - someone with a largely mechanical and technical background, with no seminary training or biblical education. But we prayed. And we prayed. And we pondered. And we prayed. And he kept on feeling that call to ministry, and remained at a loss for any other work that might inspire him. 

Then, it happened. After nearly 8 years at his job, and exactly one week after Nora was born, along with 7 other co-workers, Ben was laid off. While it wasn't exactly the order of operations that we had been planning for, it seemed as though God was forcing Ben's hand. Now he would have to make a change - he didn't have a choice. While we could clearly see that this lay-off had the potential to be a tremendous blessing, it also should have been rather terrifying. We have never had a robust "rainy day fund", mostly living paycheck-to-paycheck through medical school. We had literally just brought home a new baby. We have a mortgage. We pay for day care. Yet once again, we found ourselves feeling inexplicably peaceful in the face of what should have felt like a disaster. We began to feel excited at the prospect of a new beginning for Ben - one that was so clearly being laid out before him as part of a plan that only God could design. A plan that was not our own, but His. 

If there is a single take-home point that I would hope to impress upon anyone who hears the story of Gracie's life, it would be that God's will is infinitely more perfect than our own - that only He sees the big picture of our lives, and our understanding is so limited that it is just plain silly to assume that we know better. Living in this truth is so freeing! We don't have to figure this out on our own, because the One who sees it all already knows where we're headed and how we will get there - we need only trust Him. That's it. That's all. Plain and simple. 

While most people would have immediately hit the pavement, beefing up resumes and submitting job applications anywhere and everywhere, Ben found himself feeling led to simply be still. He has continued his prayerful seeking, has consulted with our pastors and with trusted friends and family, and dives daily into the scriptures and other books recommended by our pastor. 

Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 

Philippians 4:6-7

From the outset of all this, his "dream job" has been to serve as a staff member at our own church, but he knew that a paid position was unlikely to be an option. He went to discuss it with our lead Pastor anyway, mostly to glean some spiritual guidance and pray with him. Ben came home positively glowing that day, having been offered an unpaid opportunity to work alongside the leadership team as an intern, to learn more about what it is to serve in full-time ministry. It was exactly what he had hoped for (though he would still need to find flexible part-time work to supplement my income, which is oh-so-fortuitously - and in God's perfect timing - about to increase as I begin my residency)! Just yesterday after church, another ministry opportunity was randomly presented to him out of the blue! 

God is moving in all of this, and we are so excited to see where He will lead our family. As Ben's wife, I am positively giddy at the prospect of him finding his calling. He has never worked in a position that provided the opportunity to really flex his spiritual gifts, and I know that ministry work will do exactly that. He is far and away the most gregarious, easy-to-talk-to, kind-hearted and genuine people-person I have ever met - he was made to serve others. I feel so blessed to have the opportunity to support him (as he has done for me for so many years) along a path toward a life of service to God, and the greater fulfillment, joy, self-confidence and passion that it will undoubtedly bring. It won't be an easy road, but then again, there hasn't been a whole lot of "easy" around here lately. God has strengthened our marriage relationship and our family ties so profoundly, and I can see now that maybe He has been preparing us for something big.

New Life... and all the feels

Oh friends, how I have been longing to blog to you! I've been in one of those "don't-know-where-to-start" ruts... an "I-just-have-too-much-to-say" state of writing paralysis. Oh, and I've been nursing a newborn around the clock... there's also that. I still don't know where to start, so I'm just going to write and you'll have to excuse the messy, jumbled web of thoughts that will likely follow. The messier it is, the more accurately it reflects the state of affairs inside my foggy, sleep-deprived mind ;-)

Nora. I certainly have a few things to say about my sweet Nora Grace. Quite simply, she is perfection. She is beautiful, for one thing.

I mean, seriously.

She is also a relatively easy-going baby, fortunately. She has been a nursing champ from day one, latching on within minutes of birth and never looking back. That fact alone is an enormous relief. Anyone who has breastfed knows what a tremendous challenge it can be - a painful, frustrating roller coaster that is, much of the time, entirely dependent upon this tiny new person's cooperation. It can take you to your wits end like nothing else you've ever experienced before (along with many other aspects of the newborn experience, let's be honest). I am SO very grateful that we haven't struggled in that department. Eli and I did struggle quite a bit in the beginning, likely as a result of the bottle feeding we were forced into during his NICU stay. But that's neither here nor there, and I'm certainly not bitter about it (yes, yes I am).

Nora's major struggle thus far has been weight gain. She was born a little peanut, at 6 lbs 9 oz. That was quite a shock to me, as every baby born into our family seems to be in the 8-9 pound range. At any rate, at 2 weeks she is just a hair shy of regaining her birth weight, at 6 lbs 8.5 oz. She peed right before that weighing, which is probably where that last 1/2 ounce went :-p Our doctor is happy with her weight, her feeding, her peeing and pooping, her color, her tone... everything! It's just tough for us not to worry, given the looming threat of Cystic Fibrosis. The test that would indicate that she may have CF is the state newborn metabolic screen - you may have heard it referred to as the "PKU" or "heel stick". As our doctor explained it, "normals" typically aren't reported for weeks to months - they get SO many samples (from every baby born across the entire state) that the "normal" pile takes a while to process. Abnormal results, on the other hand, are reported back to the pediatrician more quickly, as an abnormal result has health implications for the newborn and interventions may need to be started immediately. The fact that we haven't heard back from the state screening lab at this point is "a good sign" - it's likely that her screening was normal. But waiting around and hoping NOT to get a phone call has been rather taxing, I don't mind telling you. Especially with her slow weight gain, which is the hallmark of CF in newborns. Initial slow weight gain also happens to be relatively common in normal breastfed babies, so it doesn't mean anything with regard to CF. But it has caused us to analyze every poop and every spit-up and every 1/2 ounce of weight in either direction, and that is emotionally exhausting. But like I said, our pediatrician is thrilled with her and thinks she's doing great, so we're riding those positive vibes. We adore our pediatrician and have the utmost faith in her!

But do you know what else is exhausting? A 3 1/2 year old who just got a new sibling. WHEW. People tried to warn me. I adore my son. Love him to the moon and beyond. He will always be the beautiful, perfect little person who made me a mommy. His needs are just so dramatically amplified right now, and it's REALLY tough on a sleep-deprived and stressed-out mama of a newborn. Especially when mama is waiting on very important news regarding huge health issues for new baby. Bringing home baby #2 is so dramatically different from #1 because #1 is now a toddler with complex physical and emotional needs, whose little world has always revolved around himself, and who is now being thrust into an entirely unfamiliar and uncomfortable state of being, living at the edge of the spotlight rather than firmly planted in the center of it. I have to remind myself about 57,000 times a day of just how hard this is for him. Not only is he no longer the only child that we have to tend to, he is also dealing with his mama's physical restrictions (having had a c-section), which keep her from their normal routine in many ways.

Just last night I stayed home alone with both babies while Daddy went to Bible study. He made sure that everything was teed up for bedtime before he left, but I would be putting Eli to bed. Nora, of course, chose Eli's bedtime as an opportune moment to muster up some uncharacteristic fussiness. I was in the middle of balancing on Eli's bed (mattress on the floor) with Nora in one arm and Eli's bedtime story in the other, reading over top of her screams, when I finally decided to just go ahead and latch her on. That's the beauty of having breastfed once before (and having a cooperative nurser), by the way - multitasking is coming more naturally to me this time around! Anyway, that settled her down enough to finish Eli's story, but I couldn't turn out the lights and snuggle with him as is our routine. As soon as I unlatched her, she got right back to screaming. I turned out the lights and promised Eli that I would be back to snuggle, over his protests ("Please don't leave, Mommy!" ...ouch), and went across the hall to my bedroom to finish nursing her. She also requires some upright time after nursing to prevent spitting up, so about 15 minutes later I was finally just about ready to return to Eli's room when I heard a weak cry coming from his room. "Mommy, are you coming back? Please come back, Mommy!" Ugh. It wrecked my hormonal heart. I laid Nora in her bassinet and laid my still-aching post-c-section body down in my little boy's bed and tried not to cry on him. I apologized to him for having to leave, and talked to him about how little Nora is and how mommy is the only person who can feed her, and how I really didn't want to leave him, and how I missed him while I was gone... I tried. And he was fine. But I wasn't. It hurts me - to my core - to hurt his tender feelings. To be forced to put anyone else's needs before his. By the same token, it hurts to hear my tiny, helpless newborn scream for food that only I can provide for her. I have never before had to make a choice like that. Now, those choices are going to happen over and over, on a daily basis. I can't be everything for both of them in every moment of every day. I feel tremendously blessed to have them both, and to have given them each a sibling to treasure for life, and I wouldn't change a thing. It's just hard. I knew that it would be.

Something else that is strangely difficult and beautiful about all of this is... well... Gracie. Nora looks just like her when she sleeps (which is the bulk of our day). Nora wouldn't be here without her. I had to lose Gracie in order to have Nora, but I desperately want Gracie to be here, and I am desperately in love with Nora. Their two lives are so intertwined, and it's so simultaneously devastating and miraculous. How does a mother sort out how she feels about such circumstances? I don't think she does. I think she just lives with this bizarre and beautiful reality, with no choice but to thank God for the moment, and for the lives of these three babies that have been entrusted to her, and for the abundant blessings that have sprung from each of them. That's really all you can say. And there it is... Gracie's song just popped on the radio. Like it did when we were on the way to the hospital to meet Nora. She is ALWAYS. HERE.

Now I'm all choked up over Gracie's song and my post-partum hormones, and her little sister is stirring and ready to nurse. I plan to write about (and post some photos of) our birth experience soon. Spoiler alert: It's far less dramatic than our prior two birth experiences. And that's a VERY good thing!

Stunned

For anyone who hasn't been following along on Facebook...

The news left me stunned. I really didn't know how to feel. In many ways, I thought that it would have been easier to hear that it's a boy. I thought there would be less emotional "stuff" to deal with if that were the case. Knowing that we're having another girl initially brought up feelings of guilt for me. As I've mentioned, the last thing I want is to feel like this baby is somehow a "replacement" (or for anyone else to see it that way). I desperately hope that everyone who has followed along with us through this journey will always remember Gracie for who she was, the impact she had in her short life, and the way that God was honored through it all. I also hope that everyone will similarly welcome this new baby for the unique person that she is, the impact she will have, and the blessing that she is just because she's alive - not because she came on the heels of such a devastating loss. I guess I felt like all of that would be easier to achieve if this new baby was a boy - that it would be easier to separate the two. I don't know for sure that that's true, but for that reason, hearing "it's a girl" really left me feeling... well... "stunned" really is the perfect word for it. Temporarily speechless and emotionless and frozen. I just didn't know how to feel.

It has been just over a month now, and of course I am simply elated at the prospect of welcoming a little girl - our Nora Grace. Part of me honestly wanted Gracie to be a boy, when we went in for that anatomy sonogram. I didn't know (well, still don't know!) the first thing about parenting a girl - boys are familiar territory. But in the process of falling in love with my baby girl and simultaneously grieving for her and preparing to say goodbye, I found myself desperately saddened at the idea that I wouldn't get to be a mommy - in the traditional sense, at least - to my baby girl. Not just mommy to my baby... To my baby girl. I suddenly wanted a little girl more than anything, once I knew that she was a girl. So, despite my initial reservations when I learned that Nora is a girl, my heart is now aching with anticipation over this new adventure. We went on a little celebratory Carter's shopping spree, and now her future nursery is about 10 sparkly, flowery outfits fuller!

But that brings me to another struggle that I have faced since learning the sex of this baby. Nora's room is currently a catch-all for a variety of items that as yet have no other permanent "home" in our   house. Unpacked boxes from our move (3 years ago!), Eli's outgrown clothes, an extra rocking chair... And Gracie's memory box. There on the rocking chair sits a box of her things, and a stuffed lamb that plays a recording of her heartbeat. Nearby on a futon mattress that rests on the floor sits a pile of adorable baby girl clothes - clothes that we never got to buy for Gracie. It's such a strong visual for me. The first time I noticed it, I immediately launched into a sobbing fit. The strength of my reaction took me completely by surprise, but WOW, did it sting. The day we went in for Gracie's anatomy sonogram we went prepared with several Carter's coupons that I had saved for the occasion - so that we could head straight out for a shopping spree once we knew which gender we were buying for. Instead, I arrived home with puffy, red eyes and coupons still in-hand. The sight of those dumb coupons when we got back in the car to drive home that day broke my heart wide open all over again. I think it's the reminders of what should have been that are the hardest. Reminders of Gracie herself - photos, songs from her funeral, etc - tend to make me smile inside. I may well up with tears occasionally, but those are mostly good emotions. The reminders of the earthly life we will never have with her - the baby clothes, events that she isn't a part of, reminders of the breastfeeding relationship that I'll never have with her - those are the ones that really break my heart.

But gosh, do I love her. I feared that my feelings for her might fade with time, but they have only grown stronger. I LOVE hearing her big brother talk about her and include her when he lists his family members in the course of routine conversation. I love to share her story - I'm probably becoming an aggregious "over-sharer" these days, but I can't help it! I love to hear our extended family and friends talk about her so matter-of-factly, as another one of our children. Who would have thought that I would have started 2014 with one son and ended the year with a son and two daughters?!! Wild. I am so very blessed.

In practical, medical news, our 12-week sonogram went just fine - all is well with our girl. Some bloodwork later this week will check for any further signs of a neural tube defect (like spina bifida) and our next appointment will include the big anatomy sonogram in the first week of December! Eli is terribly excited for his "girl baby" and likes to "talk to baby Nora" through my belly button ;-) What a blessing it is to watch my first born love his baby sisters. So precious and heartwarming!

As for the rest of my crazy, crazy life, I am in the process of interviewing for a residency position in Emergency Medicine for next year, which is terribly stressful and taxing. I'm doing my best to just leave it all in God's hands! I won't know anything until mid-March, which really doesn't help my stress level, ya know?!! My wonderful husband is taking it all in stride, as he always does, and continually reminding me that God will take care of our family whatever the outcome of this process. I just desperately hope to spare him and the kids a move away from family and friends. I HATE the idea of taking them further from their support system for the years that I will be least present for them. Please pray for His guidance for us as we navigate this complex residency match process, and that we will land nowhere other than where He wants us to be. 

And with that, I'll end this update with a pirate pic. Because who doesn't love a pirate pic?!!