Samuel's Heart

A Valentine Short

2012-02-14T15:50:00.000-05:00

Most days, most of the day, I am joyful, content, and full-hearted. But there are moments when grief creeps up unexpectedly. A couple of weeks ago, Samuel would have turned two and half, driving home from church on Sunday, "Blessed Be Your Name" came on the radio, and days like today, Valentine's Day, I think about how there should be one more valentine on the table. Missing Samuel is a normal part of life, but there are moments when the longing is poignant.

A few days ago, Joel and I were sitting on the living room floor together reading the journal I keep for him. (I keep a journal for each of my kids. I write periodically about their recent doings or sayings, and I write a letter to them every year on their birthday.) As I was reading to Joel, I felt overwhelmed with nostalgia for what was, for the baby boy and little boy he used to be. As I choked back tears, I couldn't help but think how I missed all those precious things with Samuel -- all those things only a momma really knows. And I thought about how someday these precious young days with Anna will be behind me. I am an extremely commemorative person, and I rue the passage of time in general. I always want to hold on tight to the present because it feels like it's slipping away. And with little kids and especially babies, it whisks by in a flash, and I can never have it back. Thinking of what has already passed -- the first years with Caleb and Joel, Samuel's whole life -- I felt overwhelmed with sorrow and longing and heartbreak. It was one of those rare out-of-time moments when you can see life clearly from a birds' eye view, if only for a the span of a few heartbeats. It makes me grateful that I soaked up every second I could while Samuel was living, that we created happy memories in the midst of fear and sadness. That month with Samuel felt like a lifetime in so many ways, though of course it wasn't nearly enough time -- no amount of time with a son or daughter could ever be enough.

I miss that sweet Samuel of mine. And as often as I imagine what life would be like if he was here, I have no idea how different our family would feel or life would really be if he was with us still. Nothing will ever fill the Samuel-shaped void in our lives. And that's as it should be. Though I miss him, I still have incredible peace in life without him. And every time I look at Anna, I thank God for how she continues to heal our hearts, to make grief more bearable and this family closer to complete. I am so glad that this year I have three little Valentines to smother with kisses and cuddles. And someday when I'm in Heaven too, my fourth little valentine will get his share of those!

Anna Antics

2012-02-11T14:21:00.000-05:00

Here is a video of Anna Pea crawling, squeaking, and generally being loved on by her brothers. It's a pretty accurate depiction of life and how adored Anna girl is. What a joy she is!

Crawling Anna Pea

CHD Awareness

2012-02-02T16:51:00.000-05:00

February is CHD Awareness Month, and a dear friend of mine is working with some other heart moms to put together a CHD pinterest board. You can check it out here. CHD (Congenital Heart Defects) are the #1 birth defect with 1 out of 100 children affected.

I remember taking Joel to see our pediatrician, Dr. Roy, a couple of months after Samuel died. When he realized I was Samuel's mom, his eyes filled with compassion, and he put his hand on my arm and told me how sorry he was. He knows Dr. V, Samuel's pediatric cardiologist, and Dr. V sent him updates all throughout Samuel's life. Apparently Dr. Roy followed all the diagnoses, Samuel's progress, and everything that happened during his 31 days. I will never forget him telling me, "Maybe if Samuel had been born in 20 years, he would have survived. I think the things Samuel suffered from are some of the things medical advances will really be able to help someday." Perhaps raising CHD awareness will be part of those advances. So pass the pinterest board along!

(Pinterest is an online pinboard where you can "pin" pictures with captions to be viewed and shared by others. You can read about the CHD pinboard here.)

Dedicating Anna

2012-01-30T11:41:00.000-05:00

Yesterday we dedicated Anna to the Lord. At our church, when you dedicate a baby, you have to come up with five things that you specifically want to pray for your child. We cheated and chose six. :) They encourage us to pull them out every year at the child's birthday and see how we as parents are doing at instilling these values in our child. It's a great idea. Here is what we are praying for our Anna Pea.

Our Hearts' Desires for Anna

Anna means "full of mercy, grace, and prayer."

Mercy -- We pray that Anna would be full of mercy, that she would exude compassion, kindness, gentleness, and tenderness for all people -- both those "to whom much has been given" (Luke 12:48) as well as "the least of these" (Matthew 25:40).

Grace -- We long for Anna to be full of grace. We pray that she would receive Christ's gift of grace (Ephesians 2:8-9) and would in turn demonstrate it willingly and unconditionally to those around her. We want for Anna's actions, words, and thoughts to be seasoned with grace.

Prayer -- We hope that Anna's life will be marked by prayer -- that she will go to God in prayer over everything: joys, thanksgiving, hopes, fears, trials, pain, longing, uncertainty, and doubt (Philippians 4:6-7). We long for her to know the intimacy with God that springs from a prayerful life and pray that her first inclination in all circumstances is to go on her knees before Jesus -- for herself, others, and the world.

Wisdom -- We pray that Anna will be a woman of wisdom, that she will embody the Proverbs 31 woman, "When she speaks, her words are wise, and kindness is the rule when she gives instructions." We hope that Anna will be able to discern what is wise and what is foolish and that she will firmly place her feet upon the path of wisdom (Proverbs 4).

Faith -- We pray that Anna will put her faith in Jesus Christ from a young age, that she will be ever confident that God is with her (Zephaniah 3:17), that she will trust that His ways are higher than her ways (Isaiah 55:8-9), and that she can take refuge in the shelter of His wings (Psalm 61:3-4). We pray that she will have the peace of God that accompanies a complete and genuine faith in Him.

Love -- We want Anna's life to be characterized by love for God and people. As she is the recipient of the greatest love imaginable (John 3:16, I John 3:16, I John 4:10), we hope she will extend love to others, caring more about them than about herself. As Christ loves her, we hope she will love those around her.

One of the things I love about Anna is the roundedness of her profile -- round head, round button nose, round cheeks, round chin...adorable.

Happy, loved girl

With the fabulous Thiels (minus Dave). The Thiels are the people who are moving away, incidentally. Dave is already in Texas. I still can't stand to think about it. Jonathan and Emily (the "kids") will still be in Georgia as Jonathan has a job here, and Emily is a junior at UGA, but losing Dave and Colleen will be a mighty, mighty blow. They're the only family we have in town, and we are so crazy about them.

Love Bugs

Dear Anna

2012-01-13T20:44:00.001-05:00

Dear Anna,

Oh, sweet girl, I am crazy about you. I can't begin to tell you how very much I love you because there just aren't words for it. You are an incredible blessing.

Right now we're in the middle of "just-Anna-and-me week." The boys are all in Texas, and I'm loving every minute of my week with you. I look at you and tear up because my heart is bursting with love. You are the baby I longed for, the one I begged God for. You are the answer to my prayers.

On June 25, 2008 I found out I was pregnant for the third time, but it wasn't until three years later to the day, June 25, 2011, that I had a healthy baby of mine in my arms. In those three years we had two miscarriages, sweet Samuel, and a year of trying for you. Though full of growth and God's faithfulness and presence, those three years were really, really hard and heartbreaking. I wasn't sure we would ever be able to have another child, and how desperately I longed for one. And then God gave us YOU. You, Anna Patricia Apinis, are my answered prayer.

We have all been amazed at how you ease the ache in our souls, how you make life brighter, grief lighter, and hope more tangible. You are a healing force in our family -- we can't help but experience healing when we look at you, hold you, and kiss you. I've seen you transform all of us -- Daddy, Caleb, Joel, and me. It's miraculous what God has done through you, and I can't thank Him enough.

But Anna, I want you to know that we don't just love you because you're Samuel's baby sister. We love you because you are you. We love YOU -- who you are, how you are, just the way you are. I love your huge smile, the way you stop crying the instant you're in my arms, your deep, guttural laugh that seems to spring from the depths of your belly, your delight in your big brothers, your gorgeous big blue-brown eyes that strangers regularly compliment, your adoring looks at me and Daddy, your sweet turned up nose with its tiny divot, your love for your bunny, your cry that is impossible to ignore, and your heart-melting dimples. Anna, I love the way God made you.

I pray for you every day, Anna Button, and I pray that your life would reflect the meaning of your name -- that you would be full of mercy, grace, and prayer. I long for you to know and trust Jesus, to follow after Him all the days of your life. I pray that you will be a woman of wisdom, love, kindness, compassion, honor, purity, and faith. I pray that you will find your identity in the One who created you and not in what the world says of you, that you and I will have a great relationship through each stage of your life, and that your relationship with your dad will keep you grounded and confident of your worth.

Do you know you have the greatest daddy in the world? It is impossible not to like him; he is funny, personable, and kind. But more importantly, he loves Jesus with all his heart. He is a man of truth, compassion, faith, integrity, honor, wisdom, courage, and generosity. I pray that someday you will marry a man who will treasure you like your daddy treasures you and me, who will point you to God, who will shower you with love, who will make you feel beautiful even on the days when the mirror tells you otherwise, who will put you before himself and serve you willingly and joyfully, who will rejoice in you just the way God made you. Your daddy does all those things for me, and I hope and pray your future marriage is as enjoyable, loving, and real as ours is.

Anna, I will love you all the days of your life and beyond no matter what -- regardless of who you become, what you do, what you believe, or what you think of me. There's nothing you can do that will make me stop loving you. You are my amazing and beautiful daughter, and you always will be.

I love you, Anna, and I always will. No matter what. And I will thank God for you all the days of my life.

Love, Momma

Dear Samuel (from Christmas 2011)

2012-01-10T20:54:00.000-05:00

Dear Samuel,

Your brothers are currently snuggled in their sleeping bags downstairs under the Christmas tree, and soon your daddy and I will be joining them. Your baby sister is snug in her crib. If you were here, I wonder where you'd be -- under the tree or tucked in your bed?

We have 6 stockings hung on the mantel, and your daddy keeps commenting on how that seems like a lot. 4 kids. We have no idea what having four kids to care for is like, and when we see all those stockings we notice your absence a lot.

We miss you, Samuel. Just yesterday Caleb told the check out lady at Publix about you, and he said, "We miss him a lot, but we have a lot of great memories of him." I was so proud of Caleb for sharing that. All of us miss you, sweet boy.

This year we used your Christmas money to help the Stanley family put together baskets for the families of CICU kids. They put together 20 baskets for those there over Christmas. We also wrote 20 notes and made some pretzel/hershey kiss/m&m snacks for the baskets.

Samuel, you continue to bless me so much. Your life refines mine. I can see so many "refreshing springs" and "pools of blessing" that have come from our Valley of Weeping. You have made me a better woman, wife, and Momma. I am so, so thankful for you.

Every week now I hear about a baby fighting for his or her life. It's practically common place, but it hurts every time. I remember the terror we experienced and the pain we felt, and I hurt for those walking through it now. I pray for those families and children a whole lot, and I spend a fair amount of time writing them -- on their blogs, facebook, or emails. I feel like God called me to love and encourage others who walk this path when He gave us you. Though it's exhausting and stirs up pain, I am glad for the chance to bless others because of you. It makes me feel like your life still matters, and I find comfort in that.

Your baby sister has been a huge healer for us. She brings us incredible joy. She's full of smiles, and no one can make her laugh like her brothers. I bet you would be a pro at it.

This Christmas we're hosting Gab'm, Matthew, Ashley, Vivian, Colin, and June at our house. I wonder how it will be to have Junie here. I can't believe what you'd be up to at 28 months. Oh, baby boy, how I love you and always will. Thank you for changing our lives, for showing us Jesus in new ways, for continuing to grow our hearts and our dependence on God -- or at least our awareness of it.

Merry Christmas, sweet boy. I know you're enjoying the celebration in Heaven. I love you, Samuel Erik Apinis, and I always will.

Love, Momma

Dear Samuel (from Christmas 2009)

2012-01-09T20:29:00.001-05:00

Dear Samuel,

Tomorrow we will celebrate Christmas in our house. Next week we head to Gab'm's for Christmas in Dallas. This year will be a first for us -- our first Christmas as parents who have lost a son. Honestly I don't want to celebrate Christmas without you, but how could I not celebrate Jesus, in whose very presence you now eternally celebrate?

I miss you so much, but I know you don't miss us. You're part of the grandest celebration ever. You are whole, full, well, and joyful. You sing and dance and play on streets of gold, at the feet of Jesus. You are blessed. And you have the amazing joy of growing up in the presence of the Lord. You lack nothing, feel no pain, experience no sorrow. For all of this I am grateful.

Samuel, I have learned so much from you and your life. I have learned to trust God in deeper and more real ways. I have learned a truer humility and gentleness. I appreciate compassion and kindness deeply. I understand genuine joy and how different it is from happiness. I have experienced God's grace in new and mighty ways, and I have learned to love more completely. You have taught me these things.

The month I spent by your side was one of the most precious months of my life -- perhaps the most precious. What a joy and privilege it was to sing to you, stroke your head, hold your hand, pray with you, read The Chronicles of Narnia to you, and tell you about your brothers and how much we all love you. Those were days I will always treasure in my heart. You will always be in my heart.

Today your daddy and I went back to Egleston for the first time. It's part of our effort to honor you and remember you in a way that blesses others. We took 20 dozen baked goods to the CICU staff to say thank you for how they cared for you and us in August. Your favorite nurse, Richard, was there as were Dr. Kim, Dr. Jen Brown, Jennifer (you were her favorite CICU patient ever), Sherese, and Lucretia. And we saw one of your friends, Sarah Beth. It was hard for your daddy and I to see her and know it could have been you we were smiling down upon. But I wouldn't want to call you back from the place of wholeness and joy where you are. But selfishly my arms feel empty, and my heart is heavy. How I would have loved to celebrate Christmas with you, my sweet son.

Daddy and I have decided to start several traditions to honor you at Christmas each year. We let Caleb and Joel pick something from World Vision to use your Christmas money toward. This year Joel chose to buy 5 ducks for a family, and Caleb chose to help orphans. Your brothers talk about you often -- every day -- and ask about Heaven a lot. They both miss you terribly and looks forward to seeing you again one day. As a family we are also giving money to a missionary couple in Indai who work with slum children and to Samaritan's Purse Children's Heart Project which raises money to fly a child and 1 parent to the U.S. for life-saving heart surgery.

Samuel, we have heard so many stories of how you have changed and blessed people's lives. You've made a tremendous impact on people. Some people have begun a new relationship with Jesus because of you, and some have come back to Him after a time away. Many trust God more because of you. You have touched so many, and you have especially touched my heart. I will never be the same after having loved and known you. I love you Samuel Erik Apinis, and I always will. I look forward to the day when I can see you again and scoop you up in my arms and shower you with kisses and hold you close to my heart. Samuel, you are a gift, and I love you deeply.

Merry Christmas, sweet baby. Give Jesus a kiss and hug from me, please, and tell Him Happy Birthday.

I love you!

Love, Momma

Another Christmas without Samuel

2011-12-31T17:24:00.000-05:00

It's hard to believe this was our third Christmas without Samuel. It was easier this year to face Christmas without him, partly because more time has passed and partly because Anna has been such a healing force in our lives. We still hung his stocking up (and always plan to), and Bryan commented numerous times that 6 stockings seems like A LOT -- that four kids seems like so many. Our fireplace did seem really full this year.

Every year we use what would have been Samuel's Christmas money to bless others, and this year we decided to join our friends the Stanleys (Caden's family) in their endeavor to bring Christmas joy to those in the CICU. We contributed to the baskets they made, which you can read about in detail here and here. I also wrote 20 notes, one for each basket, telling the families that we are praying for them and their child, and made some treats for the baskets as well. I love what the Stanleys did, and I love that we can continue to be part of bringing some encouragement or thanks to a place we hold so dear to our hearts.

Each year we put some token in Samuel's stocking to represent how we spent his Christmas money. This year we added a pacifier with a heart on it to represent the heart babies whose families received a basket. I enjoyed looking back over the things from the past few years and even rereading the letters we wrote him in 2009. I added a new letter this year as well. It is easier to write Samuel now, and it feels like sending him a little love from earth to his perfect home in Heaven. I know he is already full to the brim of love in the very presence of Jesus and in need of no more, but I like the thought of sending just a smidge more his way.

My brother's family and my mom came from Texas to spend Christmas with us at our house, and that was a true joy. Our house was bursting with children (6 in all), laughter, and Christmas magic. It was wonderful. Probably the best blessing of it all was my niece June. June, who is 16 hours younger than Samuel, offers me a picture of what my little boy might be up to in Heaven. She is so good for my soul. June is friendly and very sweet, and I would regularly look down to find her at my knee, reaching for me to scoop her up and cuddle her. She would wiggle her way into my lap and lean against me, and her favorite thing to do was look at my mommy necklace. It has a charm for each of my children as well as a birthstone for their birth months. She would look at each charm and ask who it was for. My favorite moment was when she held Samuel's charm and said, "This is for Samuel?" It is so hard for me to believe that Samuel would be talking in complete sentences and be such a big boy by now. June also blessed my heart by loving Anna. She would get down on the floor next to Anna and play with her. They would lay on their tummies face-to-face and talk and smile at one another. June would reach out and touch Anna'a face and talk so sweetly to her. It made my heart full to see and made me wonder how Samuel would have felt about his baby sister. And no surprise, Joel doted on June, kissing her often and being the amazing boy he is. June really is a gift to us, and I am so thankful that I have her for my niece.

The hardest part of Christmas was learning that sweet Hallie went home to Heaven on Christmas Eve. I haven't been able to quit thinking about the Greens and hurting for them. And each new grief stirs up my own, so my longing for Samuel was deepened as I imagined their pain and heartache.

Though I miss my Samuel terribly, I find it easier and easier to think of him and smile. What a gift that baby boy continues to be to our family. He continues to bless us, to change us, to make us more fully God's. I am so grateful for him, for the time we had to love him in person, and for the time ahead when we'll be together again. This Christmas reminded me of the future we will spend together and of the indescribable gift of baby Jesus.

Hallie-lujah

2011-12-24T11:21:00.000-05:00

I haven't been able to quit thinking about the Greens. Their daughter, Hallie, was born on Monday. She is beautiful and perfect -- because she was made just as she is by our loving Creator. She has Trisomy 13 and won't survive. I don't know how long Hallie will have breath, but I do know that she is treasured and loved and fulfilling God's design for her life.

Chris and Katie chose the name Hallie because it means Praise God -- Hallelujah. And I can't quit thinking about how that's exactly what she's doing. Her life is an ongoing chorus of Hallelujah. She is eliciting praise from thousands of people. Some friends of the Greens started a facebook page called Hope for Hallie, and as I type this there are 3,052 members. Who knows how many more there will be by the time I publish this post. I think all 3,052 members have been challenged to praise God -- to see Him at work in circumstances we wouldn't have chosen, to see as beautiful what the world is tempted to dismiss, to thank God for the blessing He's granted us -- both those we asked for and those we didn't and are inclined to label "heartaches" or "despair" or "brokenness" or "unfairness." To see God for the loving, kind, full of grace God that He is, this is Hallie's blessing to all of us.

At church this morning we sang "Hallelujah" over and over, and I had silent tears streaming down my cheeks the entire time. Hallie has brought out a new depth of praise in that word. I praise Him for the fearful and wonderful way He's made her, for letting all of us love her through her parent's courage to share her (Chris posted an incredible look into their hearts yesterday; you really must read it), for giving her to Chris, Katie, Bella, and Farrah who clearly adore her and are showering her with love for however long they have her. And I praise Him for being God -- for working in our weakness, for Creating life in ways we wouldn't have chosen, for using the most painful and heartbreaking parts of our lives for His glory and to refine our hearts and make us more fully His.

I carry the Greens with me every minute. They are on my heart in very real ways. I know some of the emotions that are ahead, and I am so thankful for the chance to pray for them as they treasure these days with their sweet, perfect Hallie Lynn Green and as they prepare to hand her over to her Creator whenever He calls for her.

The Hope for Hallie facebook page has asked people to post pictures of them holding up signs of love and encouragement for Hallie and the Greens. Here are ours.

Caleb did this all on his own. I love his sweet heart. (Incidentally, there is nothing on the back despite evidence to the contrary. :) )

Be Rich

2011-12-20T16:04:00.000-05:00

Bryan has worked so incredibly hard this season on our church's giving campaign, Be Rich. The name comes from I Timothy 6:18, "Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share." He transitioned into a new role at church this fall, and it's been an unbelievable amount of work. He now heads up Intersect, which is basically our church's community service arm. Here is the video that tells about what God has done through the generosity of our church. It's pretty downright amazing.

Be Rich 2011 Celebration from North Point Media on Vimeo.

Join Me in Praying for the Green Family

2011-12-18T11:55:00.000-05:00

Tomorrow some friends we know through church, Chris and Katie Green, are being induced with their third daughter, Hallie. She has trisomy 13, and her family has spent the last months trying to be prepared for countless possible scenarios. Please join me in praying for them as they welcome their daughter into the world and face the unknown. Pray that they get beautiful time with Hallie, that their hearts are filled with peace and even joy, that they know how to lead their older daughters through this, that their doctors and nurses and every single person who comes into contact with them treats them and Hallie with tenderness, kindness, compassion, and dignity. Pray that God continues to deepen and strengthen their marriage and that sharing Hallie will be another cord that binds their hearts together. And pray that Hallie's life would be an ongoing chorus of Hallelujah to our God. Thank you, friends.

Blog Avoidance

2011-12-14T10:39:00.001-05:00

I've kind of been avoiding the blog lately. I guess it's sort of two-fold. For starters, there have been some pretty heavy-hearted happenings in my world in recent weeks, but some of them are not mine to share. And I haven't known how to write honestly without mentioning them. So I simply haven't written. But they've taken a toll, and I've felt their weight. In a way they all center around loss, though in varying forms -- people dear to us (what a gross understatement) moving away, another heart family losing their baby boy, and a friend walking a really hard road.

We learned in grief counseling that new griefs penetrate the surface and bring up old griefs, and that has certainly been true the last few weeks. On the night we learned of our loved ones moving away, I felt the return of that horrible, gut-wrenching, earth-shattering ache that I carried around for months after Samuel died -- the one where it was hard to breathe, to speak, to function. Bryan and I were both overwhelmed with sorrow at the news of the move, and I couldn't bring myself to say a single word for the rest of the night. I felt crushed under grief once again. And I realized how much I haven't missed that almost unbearable weight. It also made me realize just how much God has healed us over the last two+ years. It used to be that the weight was a constant companion, but it had been a long time since I'd felt it again. That night I kept thinking over and over again, "I can't do this," but in the morning I woke with an assurance that God is with us, and He will be enough yet again.

I found myself heavy-hearted once again as I followed a heart family's journey. I hurt deeply for them in the loss of their son, Thomas, and I flash back to our time at Egleston, our fresh grief, our struggle to face each new day. I ache for anyone who has to walk this road of sorrow. And yet, I have such hope for the mighty work God will do in them because of their son. I treasure what God has done in me, and I stand in expectation at how He will reveal Himself in and to them.

I guess the second reason for my blog avoidance is that the three weighty circumstances going on around me have made me rather blue and have resulted in some pretty blue thoughts, and I hesitate to paint my blueness on others. I wouldn't say my days have been dominated by sorrow or heaviness; in fact I've had lots and lots of joy and laughter and fun, but my blog-related thoughts have been darker, and I've shied away from sharing them. For some reason I keep having an image of our time in the hospital flash through my head, and it makes my stomach sink every time. I keep picturing one day when I was at Samuel's bedside alone. (I think Bryan was praying in the hospital's chapel.) I was overcome with sorrow that day, and I laid my head down next to Samuel's and wept. When I think of that day, I imagine it as it looked to our nurse or a doctor walking by or even someone in the entrance hall as our dock was pretty much the first thing you saw when you looked into the CICU. My agony must have been evident to anyone who so much as glanced over, and when I picture it, my heart is filled with pain. I can't explain why that image came to mind (it happened during a worship song at church, and I'm sure the lyrics triggered it, but I can't even remember what song it was) or why it has stuck around, but it kind of sums up how I've been feeling lately when I think about writing on here -- just feels uncharacteristically heavy for over two years after Samuel's death.

Apart from those things, life has been joyful lately. Bryan's sister came to visit last week, and that was wonderful. Anna Pea took to her, which was precious. The boys continue to adore Anna. Today Caleb said he wishes he could have a whole day with nothing to do but stare at Anna. He called her "the cutest thing that ever lived." And Joel is always thinking about Anna. When asked what he was thankful for on Thanksgiving, he answered, "my baby sister" without hesitation. A couple of days ago when the boys were playing by Anna, Caleb suggested they head upstairs, and Joel immediately protested, "No! We can't leave Anna! She would be lonely." Joel proposes to Anna regularly with variations on, "Anna Pea, will you marry me?" The way these brothers love their baby sister is amazing.

Ok, maybe now that I have this post out the way, I will be a bit more diligent about posting. Here are some photos of the last month in my blogging absence. All but the first two were taken by Marta (Bryan's sister) or at least with her snazzy camera.

At Caleb's school Thanksgiving Feast with all his hard work. That's our family totem pole Caleb is holding up. Each of us is an animal. Caleb wanted to include Samuel. From top to bottom, it's Samuel the bunny, Caleb the eagle, Anna the bear, Joel the turkey, Daddy the wolf, and Momma the cat.

Anna and Daddy enjoying the Thanksgiving Feast

I love her.

One of my favorites. I am so, so crazy about this baby girl.

Our Beauty. Or as I often call her "Button."

Two cuties

Joel's laughter is one of my favorite sounds in the world. What a fabulous kid.

Anna and her Auntie Marta

Anna kisses

Auntie Marta with her nephews. Caleb was reading Encyclopedia Brown out loud to M&J.

Love that face. Such a Joel expression.

And this face. Love it too!

Playing make-believe. With protective goggles, a bike helmet, and a lacrosse stick, naturally.

My three sweeties. Can't imagine life without them and can hardly remember life before them.

Caleb's Baptism

2011-11-19T10:00:00.000-05:00

Our sweet Caleb has been asking to be baptized for a long time, and this past weekend his wish finally came true. Bryan got to baptize Caleb on Sunday, and 34 of our friends and family showed up to cheer for him and celebrate his faith in Christ. I am so, so proud of our boy. And I am humbled to be his mom. What an indescribable gift he is to us! I am also touched and grateful that God has used Samuel's life to grow Caleb's faith. Samuel is a part of each of us trusting our good God more fully, and I love that.

Here is Caleb's "story." He came up with what to say all on his own, and these are his own words.

This one is of Bryan doing the baptism. I cried. As did everyone around me. (I tried for almost 72 hours to let blogger upload this video -- to no avail. I broke down and used youtube instead.)

It was such an incredibly special day, and afterwards Caleb said, "I wish I could live this day over and over again." So sweet.

Caleb's picture up on the big screen

Some of Caleb's cheering section

Ready to be baptized -- and so excited!

It was an impressive production.

Bryan baptizing Caleb. Caleb was a bouncy, happy fellow up there.

Praying over Caleb

The party afterwards

My mom came in town for the big day

Brothers and cupcakes (Joel was riled up from his first ever mini Mountain Dew and 2 cupcakes! Wow, did they do a number on him!)

With Emily

With his small group leaders -- Miss Courtney and Miss Cassandra

Recent Pictures -- Vacation, Halloween, and More

2011-11-07T22:56:00.001-05:00

Anna's first time on the beach

Caleb running on Kiawah Island Beach

Family bike rides

Though this looks like two sweet brothers, they threw a mini-fit about taking it. :)

Joel regularly asks me to take his picture with Anna. This is one of those times.

Tandem bike -- Caleb started the week terrified of riding this. In the end he loved it.

Anna's first time in the exersaucer

Siblings!

Joel at Burt's Farm

Jango Fett, Anna Pea, and Buzz Lightyear

This is from my birthday -- Best.BirthdayPresent.Ever.

The Current of Grief

2011-11-06T13:20:00.000-05:00

I love being a momma more than I can say, and I find fulfillment in being one. It's what I was made to do, what I've always longed for, and the culmination of my dreams and desires. Though a driven and exemplary student from elementary school through college, my aspiration was never some achievement or occupation. It was motherhood. In some ways, I fit into the 1950's model of what a woman should be -- home and happy with it (though in other ways not at all since I can barely balance in heels, seem to put a run in hose within minutes of donning them, and rarely bother to blow dry my hair, much less wear it perfectly coiffed). Many of my friends get stir crazy when they can't get out of the house for a day, but not me. It's my favorite kind of day -- with no place we have to be and lounging at home with all my kids. In January of this year, we had a snowstorm that left people housebound for a good 5 days. Most of my friends were pulling their hair out on day two. For me, those days were positively heavenly. Within motherhood, babies are my sweet spot. I find myself especially fulfilled when I have a baby to care for and tend to. So these days with Caleb, Joel, and Anna should be perfection itself.

So why, I keep asking myself, have my quiet moments with Anna Pea been laced with sorrow? Why is there an underlying sadness these days? Why are my snuggles with my sweet baby girl tinged with grief? In the still moments, my heart feels heavy. Why is that? I can't help but wonder if it has to do with Samuel. It's been some time since I've taken time to grieve intentionally. Bryan has been working crazy hours lately (60-70 hours a week -- and that's without including the time he spends on his seminary classes), and I'm sure that factors into how I'm feeling, but I keep thinking the root cause is Samuel. I wonder if subconsciously I'm keenly aware that I probably wouldn't have many quiet moments with Anna if our Samuel was here. A two year old -- much less one with severe heart defects! -- would take far more time and intentional parenting than my relatively independent 4 and 6 year olds do. When Joel (who is 23 months younger than Caleb) was a baby, the only quiet times I had with him were the late night and middle of the night feedings. Anna is 23 months younger than Samuel, but I get quiet times with her throughout the day as well as one morning a week with just her. That wouldn't be true if her big brother was alive. I would be one busy (and harried?) momma.

I also wonder if part of my heavy-heartedness is fear. Sometimes I hug Anna close and my heart sinks when I contemplate ever losing her -- to sickness, unexpected tragedy, or maybe more likely rebellion or a broken relationship with us. Honestly, I have been surprisingly unfearful in Anna's life. Before Samuel I was never a worrying mom. I didn't expect the worst; I rarely called the pediatrician; I only took the boys in to the doctor if I was absolutely sure they needed to see one. In fact, Bryan would get frustrated with me for not taking them in and on several occasions was downright perplexed by my reluctance to elicit the help of a doctor. Generally speaking, I think my kids are going to be ok. I don't anticipate the worst-case scenario, and I trust that the horrible tragedies are pretty darn unlikely, so I don't worry about them. I was a little nervous I would parent Anna differently, but I've been thankful that really haven't. I continue to think my kids are going to be ok, and I don't need to fear. But sometimes when I cuddle Anna, I get this sinking feeling in my soul. What if I lose her? What if she gets sick or grows up to resent me or becomes estranged from us? What if. I have to work hard to remind myself that she isn't mine. She's God's. And He's entrusted her to my care for a limited time. And once more I have to pry my fingers open and relinquish my baby to God's infinitely better love and care. I have to trust Him.

I think the other factor is the incompleteness of our family. Regularly a stranger will remark, "you finally got your girl!" when they see me with Anna and her two biggest brothers. Every time someone I don't know expresses joy that I have a daughter, I feel terribly sad. A few weeks ago a woman on the beach in Kiawah saw me playing with Caleb and Joel. She noticed I had a baby strapped to me in the baby carrier, and she said, "That better be a girl you have in there!" It kind of broke my heart. Of course none of these people knows about Samuel. And of course they would never say I was unlucky to have three sons. But I can't help but feel like they are negating the joy I felt in my third son. Was I sad Samuel wasn't a girl? Not for one minute. I loved Samuel as deeply and richly as I love my first and second sons. And would I love Anna any less or rejoice in her one iota less if she was a boy? Of course not! I didn't need a girl to be happy, to make me whole. I was perfectly happy when I had three boys. And I feel Samuel's absence keenly when a stranger assumes I was relieved my perceived third child was a girl.

Though most of the time I am overflowing with joy and gratitude and a deep awareness of my blessings, sometimes the grief of Samuel surfaces, and I have to be diligent to allow it to come. When I don't, I still find that grief threatens to sabotage my joy instead of allowing it to complement and enrich it instead. For my joy is deeper and truer because I loved and lost Samuel as my faith is deeper and truer too. Even though two years have passed since we said goodbye to our baby boy and we've since welcomed our precious Anna into our family, grief still demands our attention some times. It needs to be acknowledged. Heeded. Heard. And then I can let it settle back down to a quiet stream until the undercurrent grows once more, and I need to let it overflow its banks yet again.

Joel Talking to Anna

2011-10-27T09:52:00.001-04:00

This is from our trip to Kiawah Island last week. Joel really loves his baby sister, and you can see a glimpse of it here.

Captured by Cam

2011-10-26T10:49:00.002-04:00

A few weeks ago, we met up with the wonderful Cami Mitelman to do family pictures. We hadn't seen her since she took pictures of our first family time with Samuel just five days before he died. (Some of our favorites are in the left-hand column of this blog.) Our dear friends Tracy Elliott and Jennifer Conley arranged for Cami to come to the hospital through Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, and though I was really hesitant about it at the time (did I want someone else there during our first -- and probably only! -- time as a family? did I want to remember Samuel that way -- swollen and sick and not at all looking like the baby he was at birth? did I want to spend any part of my swiftly diminishing days with Samuel thinking about pictures? did I have the emotional energy to do it? did it mean I was giving up hope that Samuel would live?), I was glad we did it as soon as we were at Samuel's side as a family. And now I am SO glad we did it. We have a record of our time as the five of us, and it is priceless to me. I know Caleb and Joel cherish those pictures because they can see themselves with their baby brother -- loving him and touching him, and they can see our smiles and joy in being a family. Samuel's life wasn't all tears and heartache. We have proof that it was also joyful and rich and real. Right next to Caleb's bed, he has a picture of him whispering "I love you" into Samuel's ear. I can always tell when Caleb's been thinking about Samuel because he moves the picture closer to his pillow when he's especially missing his baby brother. Those pictures are life-giving and healing for us. They bless us in tremendous ways.

After Samuel died, Cami offered to take our family pictures again someday, and right then I knew I wanted to do it when we had another baby. So once we found out about Anna, I asked Cami if she'd still be willing to photograph us. It was great to see her again. She's among the few non-hospital staff who ever saw Samuel, and she was witness to a very sacred day of our lives. I loved seeing her, talking to her (something I didn't do much of that day at Egleston because I was so preoccupied), and just having her be with our family again. It was a sweet time. And now we have some great pictures of our new family -- and one of all of us with a picture of sweet Samuel. What another wonderful blessing from Cami! Here are some of my favorites:

Expecting Anna

2011-10-23T15:31:00.001-04:00

Last week was the one year anniversary of when we found out we were expecting our sweet Anna Pea. I never blogged about that day, so I thought I would post some excerpts from my journal.

"October 16, 2010

Yesterday morning I found out I'm pregnant! I, of course, have no idea what will happen. In no way do I assume this will result in a healthy baby in 9 months. But I am so, so happy that I even can get pregnant. Lately I've begun to assume that pregnancy is not in our future, and I feel like I accepted that. I quit expecting God to grant us a pregnancy, and I was ok with that. It made me sad, but I didn't feel the need to take it in my hands and force it. I didn't feel myself resisting God on it. I felt surrendered.

I didn't sleep well the night before, knowing I was going to take the test in the morning. After fighting it for an hour and a half, I finally got up early while Bry was still in bed, closed the bathroom door, and took the test. While waiting for the digital test to spit out its answer, I was pretty sure I had started my period and said out loud, "There it is. Well, that was a waste of a test." Just then I looked down at the test on the bathroom floor. It said, 'Pregnant.' I was so stunned. I stood up in a fog and walked to the sink. When I got there, I started sobbing and sobbing. I was shaking and gasping for breath and bawling my eyes out. I was totally, totally shocked. And I was a mixture of overwhelmed, immensely relieved, grateful, terrified, absolutely amazed I could get pregnant, humbled, and sad. I wanted to fall on my knees and weep before God for thankfulness, in humility, and with my sorrow over Samuel.

After crying like that for a good 5-10 minutes, I opened the bathroom door still bawling, and Bryan woke up. He said, 'Oh, Babe. I'm so sorry.' He, of course, assumed I'd learned I wasn't pregnant. I started to crawl into bed and sputtered out, 'I'm pregnant!' He sat straight up and said, 'You are?!? Really?!?' And then he held me while I cried and cried. He's excited though cautious, like me. He's already calling me 'Bella Preggo' like with all my other pregnancies. We laid in bed for a long time, and once I stopped sobbing, I prayed for us, for this growing baby, and for God to do what He wants to do.

There is a lot to fear, but predominantly I feel truly joyful and peaceful. I know we'll survive whatever is ahead. A miscarriage would not be the end of the world, and how I'd love this pregnancy to result in a huge tummy with lots of kicks and squirms and a baby to hold and love in the end! Oh, Jesus, may it be so!!! I am so, so grateful to the Lord for allowing me this pregnancy -- even if it's for a short time. I am thankful for the picture of hope, love, and kindness of God it gives me. Thank you, Lord, for this pregnancy -- no matter what! Please keep my heart in perfect peace and my thoughts fixed on You in the time ahead. And THANK YOU!!!"

I rejoice in our Anna Patricia Apinis, our gift from God. She is such a part of our lives now, that I can't believe we've only known about her for a little over a year. How richly the Lord has blessed us by giving her to us. She is my treasure, my joy, my littlest love, and the delight of my heart.

I remember so clearly how hard it was to surrender my dream of more biological children. I struggled and struggled with it -- in some ways it took more faith from me than Samuel's death did. I saw God's hand so clearly in Samuel's life and death, but our struggle to conceive again just felt laborious and frustrating and empty and endless. The month we got pregnant with Anna was the first month I felt I had truly laid down my wishes and accepted God's. I'm sure it was no coincidence that that's when He granted us our desire -- when His desire was more important to me than my own.

And now look what we have! Our perfect Beauty. Our little Anna Pea.

Picture courtesy of Cami Mitelman -- post about that soon to follow

Rejoicing and Mourning

2011-10-06T18:43:00.000-04:00

"Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn." Romans 12:15

I was astounded and deeply touched by the way people responded to Samuel's life and death -- by the way they hurt with us, sincerely grieved the life of a baby the vast majority of them never even met, and cared for us in our sorrow and pain. People served us in kind, creative, life-giving ways. They provided us with meals for months after Samuel's death, took our boys to play at their house or to go to vacation Bible school celebrations, gave us date nights out to be together and grieve -- or even try to laugh, watched Caleb and Joel so we could go to grief counseling, wrote us moving and encouraging letters, told us stories of how their lives were changed by our baby son, had our house cleaned for us for several months, bought our groceries and delivered them for just as long, went to their knees at all hours of the day and night while Samuel was alive -- and after his death prayed for our family in our sorrow, arranged to have Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep photograph the boys meeting Samuel so we would have pictures of our only real time as a family of five, made a prayer blanket to lay over our sweet boy while he was in the CICU, made us a goodie bag of our favorite things for our vigils over Samuel, gave us worship CD's to listen to during our long days at the hospital, provided us with gas cards and Chick-Fil-A cards and a lot of cash, went with Bryan to pick out the grave plot, took care of funeral arrangements, put together a beautiful service for our baby boy, fed our extended family after Samuel's memorial service, made donations in Samuel's memory to Children's Health Care of Atlanta or to organizations close to our hearts, gave us unbelievably thoughtful gifts -- a gorgeous painting of the ocean called "You Sustain Me," necklaces with Samuel's name or initials on them, a collage of Samuel pictures, a hand-knitted shawl with symbolism for Samuel, a paving stone with "Samuel Erik Apinis, August 2009, Caleb and Joel's Brother" in a garden for babies who have gone to Heaven, a tree to plant in our yard. Three different, amazing beach places were offered to us for a week free of charge (all of which we went to!). The list goes on and on and on. I was flabbergasted by the kindness of our friends -- and in some cases strangers. It gave new and rich meaning to the verse in Romans, "mourn with those who mourn." I felt so cared for, so uplifted, so supported, so loved. I knew we were not alone. I knew what the body of Christ was supposed to be because I was experiencing it firsthand.

When we found out we were expecting Anna and shared our wonderful news, I was again touched by people's response. They were genuinely thrilled for us. Two sets of friends put on amazing showers for me. Bryan regularly came home from work bearing gifts for our coming girl. A couple from our small group painted a dresser for her nursery. Once Anna was born, we were flooded with kindness and well-wishes. Within 24 hours of Anna's birth, 17 people came to visit us at the hospital. We were inundated with baby girl clothes, blankets, and stuffed animals. Four different neighbors came knocking on our door bearing adorable outfits and gifts for our Anna Pea. People fed us three meals a week for 7 weeks. Anna's great grandma crocheted her a blanket, my high school friend Brigid knit her a sweater, and a new small group leader Bryan met with sewed her two beautiful dresses and made her a matching diaper bag with a picture of Anna and her birth stats attached. A friend ordered a handmade owl for Anna's room. We've been downright flooded with gifts and love and joy. It has been amazing to have so many people rejoice in our Anna and share in our happiness, people who "rejoice with those who rejoice."

As we've experienced both halves of Romans 12:15, it's been a double blessing. To have a community to fall back on in our sorrow was comforting, safe, and freeing. It enabled us to have bad days and know we weren't alone; there were people to fall back on, people praying for us, people to help fill in our gaps. And now to have so many sharing in our joy, loving Anna with us, wanting to know about her -- it's beautiful and rich and increases our joy. We are so grateful to the many people who have made the last two plus years so much better than they would have otherwise been, who have mourned with us and now rejoice with us. We can't thank you enough!

Update in Pictures

2011-09-27T15:24:00.000-04:00

I absolutely love this picture of Caleb and Joel.

We went to Hillcrest Orchards in the Georgia mountains with Caleb's class, and Joel held this kitten that was trying to escape. His laugh cracks me up.

Football in the backyard

The final score

Hut Hut Hike

Updating the score

This past weekend Anna and I went to Marblehead, MA for my cousin's wedding. The boys all stayed home and had "boys weekend." Anna was an INCREDIBLE trooper, and she was the belle of the ball.

My mom, brother, and sister-in-law. It was so fun to see them and for Anna to meet her aunt and uncle.

In my aunt and uncle's backyard

Peace in This Story

2011-09-19T23:34:00.001-04:00

Recently I had a friend ask how it was for me to watch Caden Stanley fight for his life in the CICU, facing many of the same struggles Samuel faced but healing beautifully and even amazing his cardiologist with his recovery. She wondered if it was hard for me to watch Caden heal while Samuel did not -- if I read about Caden's recovery and felt sad, wishing Samuel had been healed too. When I read her message asking me how I was doing, it struck me that I had never once read about Caden and actively wished Samuel's story had paralleled his. I had to think about it for awhile, but I realized it's because I am so confident this is God's story for us, God's story for Samuel. And I don't want any story other than the one God wants. Do I wish Samuel was alive? Of course. But do I actually spend time wishing it? No. Because I am convinced this is God's best for us. It's clearly God's best for Samuel. I mean, how could Heaven not be the best thing for him? And when I see what beautiful things God has done in my family, in people around us, in my heart, I am thankful for the story God wrote (and is still writing) in Samuel's life and death. Samuel's life certainly shaped us, but his death has shaped us even more. There is mercy in the story God is telling -- even in Samuel's death. A severe mercy, perhaps, but mercy nonetheless.

Honestly, I can't even imagine a different story. I am at peace with the one I am living. I rejoice in the way God has written it. Though I miss Samuel every day and wonder what life would be like if he was here, I embrace the narrative He has penned -- the narrative without Samuel. I don't know how to explain it without sounding unfeeling or calloused, but I don't spend time wishing for what might have been when what is so clearly resounds of God's love, grace, mercy, and goodness. My soul finds peace in the way life is, and I know Samuel is fully alive, joyful, healed, and whole in Heaven. What more could I want?

Despite that peace and contentment, there have been a few poignantly painful moments during Anna's life when I have thought of Samuel's death. I so deeply enjoy babies, find such fulfillment in being momma to one. In fact, I feel like it's the thing more than any else that I was made to do. I love it in ways I don't have words to explain. Sometimes I feel like my heart will burst for the joy I have in holding Anna and caring for her, in making her smile, in snuggling her and soothing her, in nursing her, in being the one person in the world who can meet her every need. Having a baby of my own makes my heart go pitterpatter. I don't mind the exhaustion, the unending accumulation of newly dirty laundry, the crying, the way my whole life revolves around feedings, the complete lack of spare time. I relish those things, even. Having a baby in the house brings out the best in me. Being back in this place after four years, I can see more clearly just how much I love it. One day last week, in a moment of overwhelming joy at Little Miss Anna Pea, I thought about how God made me to love babies, how He knew I would feel this way with each of my sweet babies (though with Caleb it wasn't immediate), and how He took my Samuel away during his infancy, never giving me the chance to care for him like my other three, without having ever nursed him or rocked him. In that moment, Samuel's death felt cruel to me -- God making me to love babyhood and yet robbing me of Samuel's. Later in the day I told Bryan about it and couldn't even choke it out. It hurt too much. And every once in awhile when Anna sleeps in my arms and cracks her eye open, I see Samuel in her in a way that positively takes my breath away, and I can't breathe for a minute, thinking I'm holding Samuel in a peaceful sleep. Those are moments of deep grief for me, seeing so clearly what I missed.

I know I missed a lot. A lifetime of joy and relationship. Of laughter and pain. Of getting to know my son. But I can't even begin to understand what I've gained. I think over the course of my life I will slowly see more and more of what God has done in me and in the people around me because of Samuel. He has refined my heart. He has deepened my love for Him. He has knit Bryan and I together in ways I couldn't have imagined or foreseen. He has given me a profound respect for my husband. He has grown my heart for my children and for others. He has shown me Himself. And I am eternally grateful. There is no story I would rather live than this exact one my good and faithful God has written for me. I wouldn't go back and rewrite my story if I could because this story I'm living is just as it should be -- at least in this fallen world where death and sin abound. Someday Jesus will return, and death will be defeated once and for all; until then I will find peace in this story without Samuel, knowing that God's plan is far better than my own.

Recent Photos of the Apini

2011-09-08T16:43:00.000-04:00

Caleb and Anna -- Caleb begged to have this picture taken

I don't think it gets cuter than this! She's totally irresistible.

Anna Pea. :) That smile -- melts me.

Joel and Anna Pea

Bryan with his kiddos on his birthday. Which one of these is not like the others? :)

This is how Anna sleeps -- checking to see if we're going to put her down. She's the most lovable little stinker.

Anna with her Momma

Our small group made this for us for the 2nd anniversary of Samuel's death. They designed and made it: cut it out, painted it, picked out the poetry lines, etc. Besides being impressive, it's really touching to me that they did this. We love it.

Can't get enough of her. Ever.

Though you can't tell, they're all wearing Star Wars shirts. Our friend Jennifer found Anna's shirt and got it for her. Adorable.

Our Family Tree of Life

2011-09-07T11:33:00.000-04:00

Kathryn decided that she wanted owls to be a decorative theme in Anna’s room and had seen a few owl paintings that she really liked. They were cute. They were not cheap. I stepped into the quandary and suggested that I would try my hand at an owl painting. Doubting whether I meant it, she gladly accepted. I’m not sure that I thought it through, but I’m glad that I offered because, though the painting took me a lot longer than anticipated, I really enjoyed the experience.

It was an experiment for me. I’d never painted an owl. I’d never painted with acrylics. I’d never painted on a canvas. I’ve always enjoyed painting and drawing, but only dabbled in pancakes, cakes, and watercolors. That said, I’d seen owls, could buy acrylics, and happened to have a blank canvas lying around. I was in.

Several weeks passed between agreeing to do the painting and actually beginning it. During that time I actually thought about the painting quite a bit. I came up with the idea of our family tree, a tree of life. I thought about having owls to represent each member of our family, and about how I would do that.

Here is some of what I was thinking and why I painted it the way that I did.

· Kathryn and I are snuggling on the bottom branch. She’s the pretty one.

· Caleb is reading on the lowest branch on the right side of the tree. He is our quiet, gentle, tender-hearted introvert. He loves to read a good book.

· Joel is bouncing on the middle branch on the left hand side, and that’s about right for him. Joel’s favorite color is orange. When he first saw his owl, he asked if it could have more orange… so I added orange toenails/talons.

· Samuel’s branch is the top one on the right hand side. His branch is empty, but his branch and leaf remain (there is a leaf for every life in our family). Though not with us, he is still part of our family his mark on us is unmistakable. You can see the silhouette of Samuel flying toward the sun. That felt about right.

· Anna is on the very top branch. As of the making of the painting she had not been born. We had not seen her and she had not seen us. Her eyes are closed.

· The words mercy, grace, and prayer are painted on the tops of several of the hills. This was just a fun tribute to Anna; her name means “full of mercy, grace, and prayer.” Kathryn and I knew that we would name our daughter Anna, but hadn’t told anyone. It was a fun way of acknowledging her name without revealing it.

One of the interesting and painful realizations that arrived with the blessing of Anna is the fact that we can’t have any family photographs with all 6 of us. We do have a treasured piece of paper with all of our kids’ handprints on it. Now we also have a family portrait with all of us. Of course, I hope that Anna treasures the painting for her whole life as a gift from her father. More than that though, I’m grateful to have done it. I’m grateful for the story that it tells of my family – the people that I love most in the world.

Second Anniversary of Samuel's Homegoing

2011-09-04T20:23:00.000-04:00

On the 2nd anniversary of Samuel's homegoing to Heaven, we went to his grave as a family. First we stopped and bought new flowers for the vase since the old ones had faded. Like last year we each picked two flowers with no effort at coordinating. Rather than aiming for beauty, we went for sentiment and meaning. This year Anna got to contribute flowers as well. Once we replaced the flowers, we sang a few songs, some of our favorites that we sang to Samuel, and we prayed and thanked God for our dear Samuel.

I had gone to the grave the day before with just Anna, and I'm glad I did. It gave me a chance to sit quietly and remember, to shed tears without an audience, and to "introduce" Anna to Samuel. I don't like to think of Samuel as in his grave. In fact, I try really, really hard not to think about his body in that tiny white box under the ground, but there isn't somewhere else to go and bring Anna to Samuel. I wanted some time with just me and my two babies, and it was a sweet, albeit tearful, time.

At least in part because I'd been to the grave the day before, our time as a family was mostly upbeat. I'm glad we went and have a tradition around Samuel's homegoing day. Afterwards we went to dinner at Red Robin, and I loved sitting on the bench squished between my two boys on earth, giggling with them, playing tic-tac-toe, sharing the strawberries from my lemonade, and watching Bryan across the table snuggling our daughter. It was one of those moments of almost supernatural clarity -- seeing how richly and ridiculously blessed we are, living fully in the moment and treasuring every second of life we've been granted together. I know these are days I will look back on longingly and lovingly when my children are grown, and I am so thankful for the now, for these three little heads to kiss every night when I tuck them in, for the unabashed hugs they bestow on me and beseech me to bestow on them, for the safe place I am for each of my children. Someday I will wish for just one of these days back, and I don't want to take them for granted now. Though I wish I had a fourth little head to kiss and neck to hug, I know he's getting all the love he could ever need in Heaven, and I am enjoying my little piece of Heaven on Earth while I wait for the real Heaven to come.

Happy Anniversary of your entrance into Heaven, sweet Samuel. I love you!

Lovely Dwelling Place

2011-08-31T16:00:00.000-04:00

Today is the second anniversary of Samuel's homegoing to Heaven. When I was nursing Anna this morning, I turned to read Psalm 84 because verses 5-7 have been among the most hopeful and encouraging Scripture through my grief. I couldn't remember what the rest of the Psalm said, and I stopped when I got to the end of verse 2. How appropriate the verses felt for this day.

"How lovely is your dwelling place,
O Lord Almighty!
My soul yearns, even faints,
for the courts of the Lord;
my heart and flesh cry out
for the living God."

I couldn't help but think of Samuel. He is in the dwelling place of the Lord Almighty -- how lovely that is! And on this day in particular, on August 31st, my souls yearns, even faints, for the courts of Lord as I long to be with my sweet son in the very presence of my good God. But it was the last two lines that got to me especially this morning. When Samuel was dying, his heart and flesh were crying out for the living God -- in a far more literal way that I can probably even understand. Samuel's heart was failing, and as the month of August progressed, his other organs began to fail as well. His heart and flesh were crying out for rescue from his trials and pain and suffering. And on the 31st of August, my living God answered those cries and brought Samuel into His very presence: whole, redeemed, new, and perfect. He brought Samuel into his courts, into His lovely dwelling place.

And just a few verses later are the words I clung to in my new grief and throughout our struggle to conceive another child: "Happy are those who are strong in the Lord...When they walk through the Valley of Weeping it will become of place of refreshing springs, where pools of blessing collect after the rain." Two years after Samuel's homegoing, I can clearly see those refreshing springs and pools of blessing. I can see how God has been present, faithful, kind, true, and our Healer. I can see what a sanctifying, refining road our grief has been and continues to be. I can see good that has come from our loss and the chances to love and serve others that have sprung from the tears we've shed. I can see how Samuel's life has impacted others for Christ. I have tiny glimpses of some of God's purposes, and I can rejoice in those.

This day is far gentler because of those refreshing springs and pools of blessing. I can honestly say I am grateful for our grief. I feel like grief has been a beautiful refining journey -- that's still continuing -- and I hold it as a treasure in my heart. I am deeply thankful for what God has done in us because of Samuel and our sorrow. It reminds me of one of my favorite Cry, the Beloved Country quotes: "My friend, your anxiety turned to fear, and your fear turned to sorrow. But sorrow is better than fear. For fear impoverishes always, while sorrow may enrich." Our sorrow has been incomparably enriching.

So on this second anniversary of the worst day of my life but the best day of Samuel's, I have a deep peace in my soul. There is certainly sorrow and longing and tears and heartache, but underneath it all is the deep assurance of my good God and His work of redemption in this life and the promise of ultimate redemption in the next life, where I will be with my dear, beloved Samuel in God's lovely dwelling place.

A Different Kind of August

2011-08-21T22:23:00.001-04:00

This August has been distinctly different from the past two Augusts. In 2009 we spent a nerve-wracking month at Samuel's side in the CICU, and last year it was a grief laden month ripe with heavy and painful memories. This August has been full of Anna, the start of pre-K for Joel (who has never gone to preschool before), and getting into the swing of 1st grade with Caleb at his university model school (he attends school two days a week, and we homeschool him the other three days). We have been so busy that most days I don't feel the weight of grief that I associate with August.

In fact, some of the traditions we have established in memory of Samuel have been surprisingly easy for me. His birthday this year was a legitimately happy day (though for Bryan it was quite hard). I loved celebrating his life, having a birthday dinner with the Thiels, eating his birthday cake, and releasing balloons with messages to our sweet boy.

A few days later we headed down to Egleston Children's Hospital for our annual trip with goodies for the CICU doctors, nurses, and staff. My stomach was not in knots as we drove up, and I even felt lighthearted walking down those yellow halls. The only thing that really churned up my nerves was buzzing into the CICU. During Samuel's life I always felt dread when I pushed the call button to be let in to the CICU, not knowing if we'd be turned away because of some procedure or crisis, not knowing what we'd fine if we were allowed in. Would Samuel's stats have dropped since we'd last seen him? What shape would he be in? I think those seconds from just before pushing the buzzer until actually being at Samuel's side were the worst seconds in each day. This time I made Bryan push the button, but once we were in, my heart was calm, and I didn't feel an onslaught of grief. After delivering the goodies, we took the boys to the library and then played hide-and-seek in the garden, things we did with them during Samuel's life. They loved it, and I was happy to see their joy and their memories of being there and having fun. I loved having Anna with us and thinking of how she continues to heal our hearts. I kept thinking about how it was the beginning of her connection to Samuel -- that she would grow up being able to see the place where he lived and being part of our tradition of remembering him and using his life to bless others. Mostly the trip was a joyful and gentle one.

Despite an easier August, there have been numerous unexpected things that have resurfaced my grief in mighty ways. I have closely followed the Stanley's journey as their son Caden had open-heart surgery and spent two weeks in the CICU. Since his August stay (as of yesterday he is at home with his parents and big sister, Jayci!) paralleled Samuel's, it unearthed a lot of memories and sorrow. But it has also given me great joy to read of his continued improvement and to know his outcome will not parallel Samuel's. Reading so many of our emotions and fears and hopes and disappointments in Becca and Adam's posts has been a little surreal, and it's certainly stirred up some grief as I remember our short time with Samuel.

A couple of days after Caden's surgery, I got a call from Stephanie, the child life specialist from Egleston who served our family so well during Samuel's life. She asked if Bryan and I would be willing to come talk to the CHOA child life specialists at their competency day. She said there would be some other parents on a panel who had also lost a child, and they would love for us join them and share our experiences -- what we did to make a memory, how we keep Samuel's memory alive, how we're doing now, and what was helpful or not helpful during Samuel's life. Bryan and I were so honored that she asked us and were both eager to go. So this past Wednesday we headed back down to Decatur and shared some of our story with a room full of child life specialists. I was nervous I would cry, and lo and behold, I did...alot. Every time I spoke, I cried. Despite being emotionally worn out by it, Bryan and I both left feeling sincerely glad that we went. We were grateful for the chance to thank Stephanie, to give back a little bit, and to continue to use our story and Samuel's life for God's glory. It was therapeutic in a way though I definitely left feeling emotionally vulnerable -- and tears came easily for the next several days.

In all these things -- the unexpectedly easy and the surprisingly sorrowful -- I have found myself clinging to our Anna. I held her tight all through the CLS competency day, each time I read an update about Caden Stanley, and in each tear-spilling moment. She comforts my heart and reminds me of God's goodness, kindness, and grace. I am so, so thankful for Anna in this month of August. She makes the painful moments far more manageable; she soothes my soul; she mends my broken heart -- not completely, of course, but in a way no one else can. I never would have imagined that this August, two years after our Samuel was born and died, would be as peaceful and calm -- despite some very intense reminders of what we endured and have lost -- as it has been. I praise God for granting us our little healer, our little Anna P. We don't deserve His grace -- that's what grace is, I suppose, undeserved! -- but we are sure thankful for it. Every time I snuggle Anna, which is all day long, I thank God for her life and for how she making my heart more whole.

How a Girl Gets Her Name (according to Bryan and Kathryn)

2011-08-19T23:29:00.000-04:00

For me and Bryan, naming our children has always been a very significant undertaking -- as it is for any parent, I imagine. The meaning of a name is paramount for us, and we spent countless hours in each pregnancy discussing names, their meanings, and how we want a name to be a blessing over each child's life -- something we can pray over them, hope for them, and challenge them to strive for. Bryan wrote briefly about each of our boys' names in August of 2009:
How a Boy Gets His Name (according to Bryan and Kathryn).

With Caleb, Joel, and Samuel we discussed girls' names before finding out gender -- at 20 weeks with Caleb and Samuel and at birth with Joel. And in each pregnancy, Anna has been our top girl's name. In fact, when I went into labor with Joel, we still hadn't settled on a boy name (and wouldn't until he was 8 hours old), but we had long been settled on Anna Patricia as our girl name. Actually, Anna is a name we loved back in college before we were even engaged. Presumably Anna has been our first daughter's name since as long as we've been a serious "us."

Over time I grew to love the name Anna more and more, as its meaning became increasingly fitting and appropriate for our child. I have an old dime store baby name book from the 1970's that my mom used when she was pregnant with my brother and with me, and it says Anna means "full of mercy, grace, and prayer." I have always loved the idea of praying that over our child -- 1) that her life would be full of God's mercy and grace and the prayers of others for her, 2) that she would demonstrate God's mercy and grace to others, and 3) that she would have a relationship with God that's marked by prayer and the intimacy with Him that emanates from a prayerful life. After our two miscarriages, the death of Samuel, and our struggle to conceive again, the meaning of Anna grew ever richer for me. Her life, that fact that she has life!, is indeed full of mercy, grace, and prayer. It is because of the prayers of many and God's mercy and grace that she lives, that God chose to create her, that she is thriving and healthy. Our Anna is already full of mercy, grace, and prayer, and it is a joy to pray that her life going forward would overflow with them.

As for Patricia, it was basically a given that our first born daughter would bear it as her middle name. My mom and Bryan's mom share the name Patricia, so Anna is doubly blessed to be named after two remarkable, godly women.

My mom is the epitome of servant-hearted, deriving great joy and pleasure from loving and serving others. Whenever she comes to visit, she looks for ways to serve me creatively, and she never fails to succeed. For instance, when she came to help with Anna she sorted through all my tupperware and found which bottoms are missing lids and which lids have no bottom to fit them. She also scoured our master bathroom for us and made it sparkle more than I've ever been able to. My mom can see needs before I'm even aware that I have them. She is also incredibly generous. I can't tell you how many things we have because my mom simply wanted to bless us with them -- like my computer, the crib our children slept/sleep in as babies, the glider I rocked Joel and now Anna in, Anna's baby bedding, and Bryan's Kindle. She also taught extra classes in order to be able to provide Bryan and I with date night money since she's not here to offer free babysitting. Moreover my mom trusts the Lord with all her heart. In the darkest of circumstances, her feet have remained grounded in God, unwavering in her faith. And she exudes joy. There is a little girl still alive and well in my mother, and she often comes bubbling out. Mom is also a prayer warrior. I can attest to the veracity of James 5:16: "The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective." People from far and wide ask my mom to pray for them because we've all seen how powerful and effective her prayers are! We joke that she has a direct line to God's ear (which of course we all have, but hers seems particularly special). I would love for Anna to grow up and be a woman like her grandmother!

I asked Bryan to write a paragraph about his mom, and here's what he wrote:

It is interesting, and even a bit difficult, for me to write a paragraph about my mother. Since I have now lived more of my life without her than with her (this last week marked the 19 year anniversary of her death), I'm trusting in memories that are not nearly as fresh or clear as I wish they were. One thing that does strengthen over time is my appreciation of the foundation that was laid in the first 15 years of my life. My mom loved Jesus, her husband, and her family. I never doubted any of those things. In fact, growing up I heard multiple people say that they had never seen someone as intentional or committed as a mom. I have a letter from her that she wrote just weeks before she died. When I read it now, it is remarkable to see how well she knew me at 14 years old: my gifts, my struggles, my passions. I think that she's a big part of the reason that I love being a dad so much. It seemed that everyone loved her and loved to be around her. She was attentive, kind, generous, and servant-hearted. She was passionate, creative, and particular. She was a great cook and baker, and whenever we had people over, the house was just right. She had a heart for the marginalized - always paying attention to the poor, the outcast, the foreigner, the sick, etc. She was also a noble woman; that was never more evident than in her suffering and dying. She was courageous, honest, faithful, and unselfish throughout her sickness. In short, if our Anna Patricia is anything like either or both of the Patricias after whom she is named, then we will be richly blessed parents.

So, Anna Patricia Apinis it is. And that is how a girl gets her name -- at least in the Apinis family!

Photos of Anna-love and First Days

2011-08-18T22:49:00.000-04:00

Smiley girl

Before going to first day of 1st Grade

Our 1st Grader!

Joely's first ever day of preschool. He was SO excited!

My pre-K kid!

Ok, I LOVE this little girl more than I could ever say. She's got me wrapped around her finger!

My Beauty. I love this little face!


Too cute for words

There is too much to write about lately, so I am posting these pictures in the meantime. Caleb has started 1st grade, and Joel is now a preschooler. They are both loving it. And Anna is still our healer and light-bringer.

Please Pray for a Heart Baby

2011-08-07T21:52:00.000-04:00

Through facebook, I learned about a friend of several of my former students who has a 4 day old son, Caden, with major heart defects. He is in the CICU at Egleston and will have major surgery tomorrow morning. We actually met his mom on Friday when we went to the hospital for our annual trip in honor of Samuel's birthday. We left cookies and a cake for the staff, and I gave a few cookies to Becca in the CICU lobby. I am heavy-hearted for this family who had no knowledge of their baby's heart condition until his birth on Wednesday. I know how overwhelming it is to start life in the CICU, and I am praying that the Lord sustains these parents, his big sister, and baby Caden and that Caden will live a long life, telling his story of God's goodness and healing hand. Please join me. You can read about Caden's heart on the Stanley family's blog: The Stanley Clan.

Photos

2011-08-03T11:38:00.000-04:00

Anna's room

More of Anna's room

Can you tell how much he loves her?

Three little Apinis faces

Beauty-girl

Caleb's message to Samuel: "Dear Samuel, I hope your birthday is a really good one. Thank you for being my littlest brother. I hope your time in Heaven is good with God. Love, Caleb."

With the message balloons for Samuel on his 2nd birthday

Watching the balloons go

Samuel's Second Birthday

2011-08-01T12:12:00.000-04:00

Dear Samuel,

Happy 2nd Birthday, my little love! How I love and miss you. Today you would be turning two if you were here on earth. I have no idea how time works in Heaven -- or if it even exists. I don't know if you're growing up in Heaven, if you arrived there already grown, if you'll be a baby forever, or some other option I don't even know to consider. But here on earth we are celebrating your second birthday and thinking of wonderful, sweet you.

Tonight we are going to the Thiels' for dinner and a little celebration of your life. We will have a birthday cake that I baked and Daddy and your brothers decorated. Joel wanted Grim from Cars 2 on it, and Caleb wanted something "a little gentler and calmer," so he picked a sunshine and clouds. We will also each write a message to you on a balloon and release them. I think we'll play some fun games as well and just spend time be grateful for your life, that YOU came into this world on August 1, 2009 and forever blessed and changed our lives. I wish you could be there with us, eating birthday cake and getting covered in frosting, giggling at the silly games we play, and opening presents just for you. But I know this day in Heaven is better than a thousand of the best birthdays on earth, so I rejoice for you.

I am so glad that you have a birthday 30 days removed from your death day -- that it's a day I can spend in true celebration of your life and how God gave us you. It's easy for me to smile today because I am so deeply thankful, so genuinely glad that you came into this world. I smile when I remember that you were born because you are one of the greatest and most profound gifts of my life. I am not sure that anything or anyone has impacted and changed me as much as you have. You have shown me God in ways I couldn't have imagined. You have sealed my heart to His in an irrevocable way. You have enabled me to trust God with all my heart and to joyfully accept His path for my life. You have taught me to find hope and joy in the hardest and darkest of days, to keep my feet firmly planted on the unwavering Truth of God and not stumbling through the unevenness of life and circumstances beyond my control. And your life has opened my eyes to what the body of Christ should be. I am still in awe of how our friends and family have grieved with us in our grief and rejoiced with us in our joy. Your daddy and I have experienced Christ's body at its very best because of you. And you, Samuel, taught me to love with abandon, not withholding love for fear of pain or loss ahead but simply bestowing it, showering it on you. I will never, ever regret loving you with all my heart, and I will never, ever wish away a single moment of your life and the time I spent with you. Those hard, painful days are among -- perhaps they are -- the most precious, holy, beautiful moments of my life. I cannot possibly thank God enough for you and your life, Samuel Erik Apinis.

We do have good news in our house these days, Samuel. You have a baby sister! Anna Patricia Apinis joined our family 5 weeks ago, and she is a true Beauty as your brothers named her and call her still. She is 23 months younger than you -- which is how far apart Caleb and Joel are. I can't help but wonder what life would be like if you were here too. I'm sure I'd be far busier with little two year old you to chase around. Daddy and Caleb were imagining what it would be like if you were here, and they envisioned Caleb calling downstairs, "Daddy! Samuel's on the steps again! I'll help him." and Joel shouting, "Momma! Samuel broke my toy!" It's not hard to imagine. I wonder if you would be enamored with your baby sister like Caleb and Joel or if you'd find me hard to share and be pretty ambivalent to the little baby crying in our house. I sure wish Anna could grow up knowing all her big brothers, and it makes me teary every time I think about how she will never meet you in this life.

We are all crazy about Anna, and she has been a healing balm for our souls as we miss you, but she will never replace you, sweet son. Your place in our family is forever. Always you will belong with us. Always you will be our third child, our one and only Samuel. Not a day will go by when I won't think of you and miss you and look forward to seeing you again one day. My heart will treasure you all the days of my life.

Yesterday at church I had Anna with me in the service. She was sleeping contentedly in her carseat, and I had planned to leave her in there. But when the band started playing "Blessed Be Your Name," I immediately bent over and pulled Anna out, tears streaking down my face. I needed to hold your baby sister as I sang the words to that song, which we sang at your memorial service. I needed to cuddle her close as I sang:

"Blessed be Your name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's all as it should be
Blessed be Your name

Blessed be Your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your name

Every blessing You pour out,
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord,
Still I will say,

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name.

You give and take away.
You give and take away
Still my heart will choose to say,
Lord, blessed be Your name."

Your death is "the road marked with suffering," my "pain in the offering," and Anna's life epitomizes "the sun shining down on me." I can't sing this song without thinking of you and your baby sister. Each of you is a blessing God has poured out on me, and each of you has taught me to turn blessing into praise. God has given, and God has taken away, and your life, Samuel, has solidified my faith in a good God to whom I can say, "Blessed be Your name."

Samuel, I love you. Happy Birthday, my two year old boy. I shudder to think of my life without your fingerprint on it. I miss you. I am so thankful for you. Happy Birthday, dear little love of mine!

Love, Momma

Our few seconds holding Samuel after his birth before he went to the NICU

Caleb, Bryan, and Joel with Samuel's 2nd birthday cake

31 Days

2011-07-25T17:18:00.001-04:00

Today is our Anna-girl's 31st day of life. Our sweet Samuel died on his 31st day of life. Samuel died at 9:08 in the morning, so our Anna has now lived longer than our son. Today I am cuddling Anna a little closer and putting her down a little less. She's wearing one of the very few clothing items we ever got for Samuel; it seemed fitting for this day.

At 4:30 this morning when my alarm went off to go feed Anna, I stumbled blearily down the hall in a fog. Once I settled in the glider and was snuggling Anna close, I reflected back on our alarm waking us in the wee hours of Samuel's last day. We woke to the heavy weight of truth -- our extremely sick son a long hall away from us, another day of waiting for the inevitable. Our walk down the hall was somber and weighty, tinged with fear and the unknown. When we entered the CICU, we relieved Erik and Marta, Bryan's brother and sister, from night duty, and within minutes we got the news: this was it. Samuel was dying this morning. Walking into Anna's room couldn't have been more different.

And holding Anna was a far cry from holding Samuel that rainy morning. Samuel was stiff, swollen, artificially paralyzed, hooked up to countless machines, and he smelled of death. It took 3 people to maneuver his lines and machines so we could hold him without accidentally stopping his breathing machine. He never moved a limb or opened an eye -- he couldn't on the paralytic. And holding him was filled with grief. Anna, on the other hand, I scooped up out of her crib while she engaged in some serious stretches, one of my favorite things to watch her do. She squirmed in my arms, smelled of the bath I gave her a few hours earlier, made continual grunts as she worked on filling her diaper, cried when I changed her, and breathed the deep sighs of contentment when she was nursing. Her body sank into the contours of mine, and she exhibited every sign of life and health and well-being. Looking at her, I thanked God for the gift she is, and I missed my dear, sweet Samuel tremendously.

At 8:00 am, when I was feeding her again, and an hour at which I was holding Samuel nearly two years ago on Aug. 31, I opened my Bible to Job and read the verses we chose for Samuel's grave marker: "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised" (Job 1:21). The Lord gave us Samuel, and He took him away, and we praised Him still. Now we are once again in a season of blessing; the Lord has given us Anna, and we praise His name. She, too, is ultimately God's, and we are thankful for however long we have to love her on this earth. Whatever this life holds, we will continue to bless His name. And we rejoice in this season of abundance, "when the world's all as it should be," and it's easy to do.


Since we can't have a photo of all our children together, we decided to put their handprints all in one place. We originally made this when the boys met Samuel in the hospital. When Anna was 3 days old, we added her handprint to the top left.

Anna on her 31st day of life

Today is the first day I've been able to get a bunch of smiles from Anna. I'm so thankful for her life, a beautiful reason to smile!

Declarations of Love

2011-07-21T11:06:00.000-04:00

Caleb and Joel LOVE Anna. Here are a few of the things they've said and done in the last few weeks:

"She's the cutiest pie I've ever known." -Joel

"I am enjoying her so, so, so much!" -Caleb

"She's my first best Anna in the world! You're my first best Momma, and she's my first best Anna!" -Joel

"Can I keep her company for awhile while you go work on dinner?" -Caleb

"I love her too much. I want to hold her forever." -Joel

"I love her alot. She's my favorite baby." -Joel

"I want to hold her as much as I can." -Caleb

Me: "After two weeks with Anna, how do you feel about having a baby sister?"
Joel: "It's the best thing in the world."

"She's the cutest thing in the whole, whole, whooooooooole wide world!" -Joel

Whenever we see someone who hasn't met Anna before, Joel runs over to me, grabs Anna's little foot, and escorts us over to the person, positively beaming all the while. He is so very proud to introduce her and take credit as her brother. I love watching the joy and pride on his face.

Caleb likes to read to Anna. He will sit or lay on the floor next to her and read her entire books, making sure to show her the pictures. It's absolutely precious.

I am so proud of these big brothers. They love their baby sister with a tenderness that melts my heart and brings me great joy. What a blessed little girl Anna is to have Caleb and Joel for her big brothers on earth!

And while I'm at it, here's a picture of Bryan doing his seminary homework with Anna. Every night Bryan takes Anna from about 9:30-11:00, which is part of her fussy time. He reads seminary in her room while rocking her or sets up shop in the playroom. It's pretty cute to see.

22nd Day and Photo Interlude

2011-07-17T14:08:00.001-04:00

Since Samuel and Anna were both born on a Saturday, I can roughly track what was happening in Samuel's life at Anna's age. Today marks Samuel's downturn from which he never recovered. We spent a terrifying (and yet strangely peaceful) couple of hours thinking that Samuel was dying on his 22nd day of life, and from this day until Samuel's death, Bryan and I didn't go home again but stayed at the hospital 24 hours a day. In many ways, today in Anna's life marked the beginning of the end of Samuel's life. I don't know if that makes any sense to read, but to me it's a significant day. From this day forward in Samuel's life, I knew he was dying apart from an absolute miracle of God. My days of hoping for a baby boy at home to love and care for came to an end, and I began to prepare myself for Samuel's death. It's sad to me to think that my days of hoping for something in this life were already behind me. When I look at Anna, I think of how her life has just begun. I can't even imagine preparing myself to give her over to God. I don't know how we did it with Samuel. It was only by the grace of God.

Really I got on today to post a few fun pictures of the last week or so. So here they are. We are all clearly smitten with this little girl. Later I will post some more adorable things her brothers have said. I love this family so much!

My mom with our three kids on earth

Momma and Anna

Joel on the 4th of July. He loves corn on the cob!

Me and Caleb on the 4th of July

Normally Anna is swaddled very tightly for naps, but sometimes when she's totally out, I put her down without the swaddling. Today I came in to find her sleeping like this, and it cracked me up.

Bryan and Anna hanging out in the hallway


Daddy LOVES his little girl!


Caleb staring at Anna

Caleb entertaining Anna with his Cars 2 cars

Caleb driving cars on Anna :) This makes me laugh every time I see it. Only Caleb could gently drive cars on his sister's face!


Our Beauty :)


Joel staring at Anna

Mingling of Joy and Grief

2011-07-13T22:05:00.000-04:00

With a newborn in the house, I no longer have the luxury of any margin in my life. That means I no longer have the margin to edit my postings or a block of time to sit down and write an entry in one sitting. Consequently, this collection of relatively unconnected paragraphs will have to suffice. Maybe someday I can write a cohesive entry again. :)

Having our Anna has been a tremendous blessing and joy, but it has also surfaced a good deal of grief. We knew that having another baby -- healthy or otherwise -- would likely exacerbate our felt grief, but we didn't know what exactly that would look like. I've been surprised on more than one occasion at what has churned up grief and what has not.

When Anna was first born, I expected to be overcome with emotions -- both sorrow and joy mingling. And I certainly experienced them both, but it wasn't what I had anticipated. The adrenaline of the moment kind of overrode the emotional aspects, and my dips into grief were brief. That took me by surprise. Even more surprising was what pulled me under and lead to a torrent of tears. On our last day in the hospital, Dr. Videlefsky, Samuel's pediatric cardiologist, came to check out Anna's heart just as a final precaution. Beforehand I hadn't been anxious about it, and I certainly hadn't expected any bad news after holding Anna for nearly two days and seeing her be the picture of health. But when she was gone for the exam, it felt all too familiar. I just happened to be journaling about Anna's delivery while she was gone, and about 10 minutes in, I flashed back to the first time Samuel was wheeled away from us at Egleston. He was going in for his first heart cath, and I passed the time by journaling about his delivery. The similitude was too great, and I felt my nervousness growing. I remember how Bryan and I both started to be fearful the more time elapsed with Samuel in the cath lab; as I sat in our hospital room and the minutes ticked away without Anna, that same fear started to grow in my belly and heart. After about 45 minutes without our baby girl, I looked at Bryan and said, "I'm scared. She's been gone a long time. This is too familiar." His look told me he was feeling the same way, and he acknowledged his uneasiness and anxiety.

We went for a walk down the hall to peek at Anna in the nursery and to see if we could tell if anything was wrong by reading Dr. V's body language. But our trip only showed us our daughter screaming her head off and a nurse running tests. We couldn't tell if the nurse liked what she saw or not. We went back to our room and continued to wait. When Dr. V came in about 15 minutes later with a smile and genuine pleasure on his face, announcing, "She's absolutely perfect!", I cannot not tell you the relief I felt. The moment Dr. V walked out the door, I broke down into body-shaking sobs. I hadn't even known I was carrying a fear that her heart wouldn't be healthy, but the news that she was perfect was completely overwhelming to me. Knowing that we definitely weren't headed back down the road we walked with Samuel, knowing our Anna was healthy, knowing we were truly bringing her home, knowing that I wouldn't have to see her hooked up to machines or have her precious first weeks stolen away from me, knowing she was the healthy gift we prayed and prayed for, it all came flooding at me, and I simply bawled and bawled in Bryan's arms. I cried for joy and relief, and I also cried for what we lost in Samuel, for what we endured, for the boy we aren't holding and kissing and hugging every day. I had no idea that Dr. V's examination of Anna would even be a big deal to me, much less that it would stir up so much emotion, sorrow, and grief.


Dr. Videlefsky with Anna

My grief has surfaced at other unexpected times as well, like last night when Bryan and I both started singing "Grace Upon Grace" to our screaming daughter as we drove home from small group. We sang all the songs we would sing to Samuel before telling him goodnight and dragging ourselves away until the next day. What a different picture: singing to our sick son and having to leave him at the hospital and put 45 minutes between us versus riding in the same car as our daughter who was demonstrating her incredibly healthy lungs. With Samuel, we were singing to ourselves as much as to him, comforting our own hearts with the words of the songs. With Anna we were merely trying to quiet her screams until we could scoop her out of the carseat and hold her close and soothe her at home. What I wouldn't have given to hear Samuel scream, but with his breathing tubes, I only ever heard him cry once, and that was when he first emerged from my womb, and I have no recollection of how he sounded. With Anna, I hear her screams often throughout the day. Thinking of singing to our sweet boy made me sad and lonesome for him; it also made me so grateful for Anna's cries and that we even get the chance to soothe her.

There are obvious indicators around our house that a baby resides here: lit up monitors, a carseat that has a blanket in it (signaling it's actually used and not just sitting around empty and purposeless), disheveled burp cloths, a breast pump drying on the counter, a crooked stack of diapers on the pack-n-play, etc. But there are also subtle signs that life abounds here; Anna's hospital bracelets lie haphazardly on a dresser and a bookshelf, carrying no more significance than a healthy child's bracelet should. With Samuel, his bracelets were among the very few tangible things of his we had, and they were guarded, wept over, and carefully stored as treasures. Anna's new outfits, received as gifts, are scattered downstairs. With Samuel, flowers from people who grieved with us were scattered in those same places. Our stack of cards say "Congratulations" and not "Our Deepest Sympathies." My breasts ache with milk that Anna will drink and not in cruel mockery of the child we don't have. And not a single picture of Anna graces our house yet because we can look at her beautiful face any time we please, but with Samuel his pictures were (and still are) everywhere, giving us glimpses of our precious son in our loneliness for him and in our grief.

A few nights ago, I was rocking an unhappy Anna while Bryan sat on her floor, reading his seminary assignments. I was thinking about how Anna spends several hours every night crying angrily and how I am strangely unbothered by it. As I rocked, I noticed Bryan's t-shirt; he was wearing the shirt I had on when Samuel died in my arms. I pretty much hate that shirt now, but that night I found myself grateful for what it reminded me of: I get to rock and love my sometimes inconsolable baby girl, a gift beyond measure. What I wouldn't have given to do the same for my son, whom I could only helplessly and gently hand over to my loving God. That most heartbreaking morning was the only real time I got to hold him. Anna I get to hold and comfort every night. What a treasure. I cannot (and do not) take my moments with her for granted.

When we first came home from the hospital, I spent several days thinking, "so this is what it's like to have three kids at home. I always wondered." It wasn't until a few days later that it occurred to me that I will never know what it's like to have as many children at home as we are parents to, for now I am a mother of four. Though I finally know what it is to have three kids under my care, I now don't know what it's like to have four, and no matter how many children we have, we will never catch up to the number we "should" have. I will never know what it's like to have all my children at home. It was a sad thought to me; I can't begin to imagine what life would be like with Caleb, Joel, Samuel, AND Anna.

The night we came home from the hospital, we resumed reading The Chronicles of Narnia with our boys. It just so happened that the chapter we were on in The Silver Chair was the very last chapter we ever read to Samuel before he died. The symmetry of that is a little haunting -- picking up with Anna in our arms right where we left off with Samuel.

We took some family pictures in the backyard over the weekend, and after I downloaded them, I saw an obvious gap. Though I love the picture of five of us, there is a clear gap where Samuel should be. Between me and Caleb, there is a Samuel-sized hole. His sweet little almost-two-year-old face should be there. His obvious absence made my heart heavy.

I think of Samuel all the time as I love on our little girl. Anna is not a replacement for him. She will never be our third child. Her life reminds me of what we've lost in Samuel's death. But her life also brings me joy and healing in ways nothing else could. She soothes the ache in my soul. Her yawns and stretches and grunts and coos warm places in my very depths. The time we spend with our eyes locked, staring at each other and memorizing each other's faces, fills me with hope and contentment and peace and joy. Anna is a priceless gift and a healing balm to our aching hearts. We praise God for her life and health and the comfort she brings us, and at the same time, we miss our dear Samuel. Probably those two things will always be true. Joy and sorrow will always be somewhat mingled. We will grieve, and we will heal, and Anna will be a part of both.

A Few Photos

2011-07-08T14:13:00.000-04:00

Lounging on Gab'm

Wrapped in blanket crocheted by her Great Grandma

Wearing her first dress -- which Caleb bought for her with his own money

With her wonderful Gab'm

Smiling in her sleep

Wide-eyed Anna Burrito

With Mommy and Daddy

Family Photo in the backyard

With two brothers who love her

Ok, I laugh out loud every time I see this picture. And I made it my screen saver. How cute are they???

Big Brother Love

2011-07-07T22:06:00.003-04:00

Seeing our boys meet their baby sister was beautiful, and watching them hold her and beam with joy and pride was priceless. They are smitten through and through with Anna. They could hardly wait to hold her and kiss her and cuddle her. In fact, beforehand they had worked out an order to who would hold her when: First Mommy, then Daddy, then Caleb, then Joel, and then Gab'm.

Sweet Caleb with his sister


In Big Brother Caleb's arms -- and showing off her dimple

One of my favorites -- Joel's loving kiss

Kiss sandwich

Total joy

This is what Joel considers hugging Beauty -- his cheek against hers. We're continually working on gentleness in his exuberance, but he's getting better and better. At first he would positively squash her when he'd give her a kiss or hug.

Imitating Anna's yawn

Joel begs often, "Can I hold her? Can I kiss her? Can I give her a hug?" It might have been three seconds since the last time he held, kissed, and hugged her. Bryan and I laugh that his never-ending need for affection extends to his baby sister as well. Regularly Joel declares with love in his voice, "She's so cute!" And yesterday he told me and my mom, "She's not as cute as I expected. She's cuter!" Joel has had a stuffy nose the last couple of days, and I've asked him not to hug her until he's better. It's amazing how many times a completely congested Joel has declared he's all better now and no longer has any germs or sickness. :) Just tonight he came in her room after his shower and kissed her on her head while I was rocking her. Then he turned to leave the room, but a few steps away, turned back around for another kiss. In the end, he turned back 11 times before going to get in his pj's. I love his enthusiasm for his sister.

Joel trying to touch as much of Anna as he can :)

It's evident that Anna's health continues to be on Caleb's mind. The night Anna was born, he cried and cried after leaving our room. I think it was all-too-familiar for him -- leaving a new baby and his parents at the hospital while going home with my mom and the Thiels. It took us bringing her home to see him relax a little, but even so he prays every night, "Please help Anna to stay all the way healthy." He does love to hold her and kiss her, and he is naturally gentle with her, but I still detect a bit of reticence from him. Today he ran in to give her a kiss every time he walked by her room, and he declared he would kiss her any time she cried. Slowly I see his reserve beginning to melt away, but he's still guarded.

Caleb gazing lovingly at Anna who is wearing orange for Joel and red for Caleb (Joel's selection)

Caleb and Joel have both been fabulous helpers. Caleb even looks for ways to help. This morning I caught him folding a blanket. When I thanked him, he said, "I saw it and thought, 'I bet it would help Mommy if I folded this,' and I wanted to do it for you!" And the other night after dinner, he volunteered to sweep up the crumbs on his chair and on the floor. He said, "I want to help you, Mommy. I want to do Legos with Daddy, but even more than that I would love to help you. I will sweep these crumbs up and the floor too. And if there is anything else I can do, I would love that!" His sincerity melts me. That kid is something else. Joel, too, has loved to help. He loves throwing away dirty diapers and picking out Anna's clothes (he found the only orange thing she has, no surprise!) and even holding her when she cries. He seems completely unphased by her screams and even claims to like when she cries. I thought Joel especially would have a hard time sharing me, but so far they've both done amazingly well. I wonder how it will be once my mom heads home, and I am the lone adult 5 days a week.

One of my favorite things is to happen upon the boys staring at Anna. Numerous times the whole family has abandoned whatever it was we were doing -- like eating dinner! -- to just stare at her. If her eyes are open, we all jump ship on whatever was holding our attention and run to Anna. It's precious to see her brothers just gazing at her. I regularly find Joel standing on the crib rail, peering over the edge at her. It's completely adorable.

All of us staring at Anna-girl


Brothers staring at their baby sister

A dinner break to admire Anna

The boys still call their baby sister "Beauty," and I kind of hope they always do. What sister wouldn't love to know her brothers find her beautiful and precious? What a blessed girl she is to have Caleb and Joel as her big brothers on earth and Samuel as her big brother in Heaven!

Anna's Arrival

2011-07-04T14:08:00.001-04:00

Our Anna is here, and there are not words to describe what a joy-bringer she is or how beautifully she has been healing our hearts or how utterly enamored with her we are. She is perfect in every way, and none of us can get enough of her. We're always trying to steal her away from someone or get in another kiss or scoop her up from her crib while she's sleeping so we can snuggle her. She is perfection itself, and we are completely in love with her.

Newborns are my favorite. I have always loved babies, and Anna I have loved with a new vigor and tenderness and unflappable steadiness. I love when she cries, I love when she nurses, I love when she sleeps, I love when she has a dirty diaper, I love getting her dressed, I love feeding her in the middle of the night, I love her stretches, her fusses, her grumpy face, her "I'm on the verge of screaming" noises. I love it all, and I can't stop myself from soaking up every second of her life. This is what I was made to do -- care for a newborn baby. It taps into the things I love most about motherhood, and it's a place where I am the most content, the most settled, the most peaceful.

As I treasure every second with Anna, I often find myself wondering how I ever survived Samuel's month of life when I couldn't do any of the things for him that I love to do for Anna. I didn't get to hold, feed, cuddle, or soothe Samuel. Instead I had to watch him hooked up to countless machines and find the few places on his body I could touch. I am in awe at how the Lord enabled me to enjoy Samuel's life so much when I was prevented from being his mommy in the way I love to be my newborns' mom. Only by the grace of God was Samuel's short life so blessed in our eyes. Only by His power and strength and goodness were we able to laugh at Samuel's side, bond with him, and find those days holy.

As Bryan mentioned, Anna came into the world on Saturday, June 25. I was actually induced, which I had never experienced before. It was comical to me that none of my babies were late until the fourth one! Bryan and I went round and round about induction, but in the end we realized it was the best choice for us. My OB, Dr. Siegel, was out of town all this past week, and if we didn't induce, a stranger would have delivered Anna. Normally I wouldn't be too concerned about that, but when I started to think about what bringing Anna into the world would be for us, I realized that Dr. Siegel's presence was very important to me. He has been my OB through all of my children, and he delivered Samuel. He knows us, cares about us, is intimately familiar with Samuel's story, and feels like a safe place. When I considered the swirl of emotions Bryan and I were likely to experience when Anna made her first appearance, I decided Dr. Siegel's presence was paramount. So though we would never have considered an induction in the past, we agreed to it this time. Once induction was on the table, I started to consider an epidural for the first time as well. Though at heart Bryan and I are all-natural people, after Samuel my perspective shifted. In the end all that matters is a healthy baby. My "ideal birthing experience" seemed a little trite and rather insignificant. So I opened the door to a totally different beginning of Anna's life.

And totally different it was! At 12:35 pm, I was hooked up to pitocin, measuring 2 1/2 cm, and Bryan and I were watching Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 1. An hour later, contractions started at 2 minutes apart, and they were completely manageable -- no big deal at all. Almost two hours later I was 4-5 centimeters, and contractions continued to be manageable. We turned off pitocin, and Dr. Siegel broke my water. I made a mental note-to-self minutes later: Don't break your water before you're already in significant pain! My contractions went from no big deal to mighty intense immediately. It was a rude and abrupt shift. About 30 minutes later, I got an epidural just because I could -- though I could tell my window for getting one was fast closing. I didn't love the process of getting an epidural, and Bryan and I had a tense 20 or so minutes when we weren't sure if it was going to work because of my scoliosis surgery when I was 15. I was stuck laying down (the very worst position for my back labor), and Bryan couldn't provide me with the only relief I know -- counter pressure on my back. We just had to wait it out through about 10 really bad contractions with no relief. Thankfully, the epidural kicked in, or it might have been my worst ever labor, stuck on a table with useless legs and no real way to cope with the pain.

Once the epidural was in effect, I could still feel pain, but it was manageable again, and we resumed watching our movie. Forty minutes later, Dr. Siegel came in and announced I was 10 cm and ready to push. (REALLY?!? I watched a movie through transition!!! That still blows my mind.) He and the nurse set up the table for about 15 minutes while I marveled that I was just hanging out, waiting to push my baby out, amused at watching them struggle with the new fandangled contraption. Without meds, I would never have waited for them to get things "just right." I pushed once very gently, and out came Anna's head. We paused while Dr. Siegel set up a tasteful picture for Bryan to take, and then I pushed gently again, and Anna was out. It was the most shockingly calm, uneventful birth. I still can't believe it. And though I don't know if I would do it again, it was the right birth for Anna, our baby after Samuel. It was full of peace and calm and joy. When I look back, I realize we never could have had this birth without being induced, and though I begged God to let her come on her own, I am glad He didn't. Instead He gave us what we were asking for all along: a healing, calm, peaceful birth to bring healing to Samuel's frantic, frightening arrival.

At 5:13 pm Anna was in our arms, and we were holding her, and she was screaming her head off -- hooray for healthy lungs! And we were overwhelmed with emotion but also with adrenaline and the surreal fact that she was here. I cried silently while I held her, and I was deeply moved when I saw Bryan cradling her in his arms. What a gift! What a joy! What a blessing! How long we had waited for a baby in our arms. In fact, June 25, 2008 is when I found out I was pregnant with my first miscarried baby. Three years to the day of waiting for a little one to hold again. And Anna fulfilled our longing.

I can't put into words what Anna has done for our hearts already. She has been the healing balm we prayed for. She has brought beaming smiles to Caleb and Joel. She has mended our wounds in ways I didn't know were possible. She has showered us with grace and hope and peace and joy and mercy. She is the gift we've beseeched God to grant us. And we are grateful beyond what we can express.

Final profile picture -- 40 weeks and 2 days. About to head to the hospital to be induced

Feeling a little anxious; let's deliver this girl and get her here already!

Final family photo before Beauty's arrival


Next time we'll have five people in our family photo

The boys seeing us off to the hospital to deliver Beauty

Our First Family Picture with Anna-girl

A Kiss from the Love of my Life


Anna with Dr. Siegel

Anna through the Bassinet

Bryan looking at his daughter

Mommy and Anna

A Tree of Life

2011-06-26T12:20:00.003-04:00

Below is my journal entry from this morning, I thought that I'd share my first thoughts about welcoming our daughter:

Our Anna Patricia was born yesterday. What a Beauty for sure. We are grateful to have a baby in our arms, in our room, on Kathryn's breast. God has been so kind. This is how it is supposed to be. Not that we deserve this, but that this is about as un-broken as child birth can be in this world, in this life.

She was born at 5:13 pm on Saturday, June 25, 2011 - 8 lbs. 15 oz., 21" long. Kathryn elected to have an epidural for the first time. That made for a totally different experience than our previous three births, especially in comparison to Samuel's, in which the normal pain experienced by an unmedicated mom was accompanied by the stresses and uncertainties of his known (yet unknown) heart defects. Anna's birth was remarkably calm for the last hour-and-a-half. We were able to hold her right away, and there were a few emotional moments for me when Kathryn first held her daughter - a healthy child who was not whisked away. Because of everything going on in the moments immediately after a child birth and because of all the people in the room, I wasn't able to remain in those moments for long. Just the same, they were moving. As I reflect on them now I am reminded again of the wisdom and truth of Proverbs 13:12: "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." If a tree of life can be an emotion, that's what I was feeling. Seeing Kathryn hold Beauty was watching a longing fulfilled. We have been through - and are still navigating - the lands of hope deferral with the loss of Samuel and our subsequent grief. But as far as I can see, trees of life are the best salve for the ache of disappointed dreams.

I don't want to overstate this. A healthy Anna is not the same as a healthy Samuel. She does not replace him. She can't. We don't want her to. Our specific hope of August 2009 - that God would heal Samuel - will not be realized in this life. But, our broader hope for a growing family, for more children, has come to fruition in the birth of Anna Patricia.

Thank you, God, for your kindness expressed both in comfort and healing, and in life, health, and birth.

She's Here!!!

2011-06-25T22:12:00.001-04:00

Introducing the world's cutest Beauty:

Anna Patricia Apinis

Born on June 25, 2011 at 5:13pm
8 lbs, 15 oz.
21 inches long

We're all doing great. Anna has fabulously strong lungs which she's been showing off all evening. Praise God! We are thanking the Lord for this incredible miracle and blessing. Thank you, Jesus, for our sweet Anna.

More to come later...

Latest on Beauty

2011-06-14T13:26:00.001-04:00

As of Thursday I will be 39 weeks pregnant. (My due date is next Thursday, June 23.) As of yesterday, I am 2 cm dilated and 50% effaced. My fluid levels have been utterly normal for the last 4 weeks, so everything seems to be hunky dory. I was really hoping Beauty would have made her appearance by now, but that's obviously not been the case. At this point, I suspect she won't be showing up until next week sometime. Now that I've adjusted my expectations, it's easier to live each day as it comes instead of in the constant hope and question of "will this be the day?" It gets really old really fast spending your days waiting for something to happen. So, for the rest of the week my plan (goal?) is to just live the day we get and soak up another day with just the boys. Each day is a gift, and I hope to make the most of them.

This morning the boys and I surprised Bryan at work by joining his team for a little celebratory breakfast in honor of coming Beauty. I loved being prayed for and having Beauty prayed for, and I felt very blessed by the team's thoughtfulness. The boys loved our breakfast treat of Dutch Monkey Donuts and BB's Bagels. Yum! When we got home, we did a LEGO set (something the boys love), and then we watched the classic Disney Robin Hood while eating lunch. Caleb prayed at lunch time, "Thank you for special, special sweet best Momma in the world and for her letting us watch Robin Hood." I am glad I get these special days with my precious boys.

Beauty-girl, we can't wait to meet you! Come whenever you're ready. We will do our best to wait patiently for you. :)

Caleb's Concerns

2011-06-05T15:14:00.001-04:00

Yesterday I spent a little time with Caleb in Beauty's rocking chair. I have noticed that when I ask him about Beauty coming and how he's feeling, he usually responds with some degree of hesitation, reluctance, or even negativity. About a week ago he said he would be sad when she comes, and when I ask if he's ready for her arrival, he always says no. So I scooped him up yesterday and sat down to try to understand what he's thinking and feeling.

At first he couldn't articulate his feelings at all. He would say, "I don't really know how I'm feeling. I don't understand it." Once I started asking better questions, he was more able to explain his concerns. I asked him, "Are you worried about Beauty coming?" He nodded his head vigorously. When I asked, "what are you worried about?" his answer revealed the root of his reservations. He said, "I am worried that the same thing that happened to Samuel will happen to Beauty." I hugged him close and told him I understood that worry, but I reassured him that all the doctors think Beauty is healthy. I reminded him that we knew Samuel wasn't healthy before he was born; we knew about his heart. And the doctors have looked at Beauty's heart and say it is healthy. I revisited the conversation we had back in December about how God has faithfully been healing our hearts from our sorrow over Samuel and asked if he thought God would do that again if Beauty isn't healthy. He readily agreed that God would heal us. I asked if he thought we'd still be able to smile and laugh and have joy. He nodded his head but said seriously, "But not at first." I asked him if he remembered when Samuel died and how he felt and what it was like, and he said he remembers it well. I could see the fear on his face.

So we cuddled more, I tried to reassure him that all the doctors think Beauty is healthy, and I told him that we can trust God to take care of us no matter what. And then I suggested we pray about it together. He was happy to do so. We asked God to help us trust Him, to grant us a healthy baby girl, and to give Caleb peace. We acknowledged that Beauty is in His hands, and we can trust Him with her. We prayed that Caleb wouldn't be afraid but would know that God is always with him, always understands what he's feeling, and always loves him. And we thanked God that we can talk to Him about anything, anytime.

Caleb seemed more himself when we finished praying and he climbed off my lap, but what showed me the conversation had been helpful was Caleb's prayer at the dinner table. He prayed, "Dear God, Please help Beauty to be healthy. And please let her come soon -- even tonight -- if that is Your plan." He has never asked that Beauty come soon -- especially not as soon as that very day, and I've never heard him use the phrase "Your plan" before. It's not a phrase I use when I pray with the boys or when I talk to them about God, so I'm not sure where He came up with it, but I love his attitude. I love his submission to God and his desire to trust God even when he's afraid. He is a courageous kid in so many ways, which is something we pray for him everyday. Caleb means "faithful, courageous, and bold," and nightly we pray that Caleb would be faithful to God and others -- that he would acknowledge God's faithfulness and be faithful in return (as Caleb in the Bible was -- seeing God's goodness and faithfulness to the Israelites as they fled Egypt, he believed God would be faithful to help them conquer the "giants" who dwelled in the Promised Land), that God's faithfulness would make him courageous to follow Him and seek after Him, and that he would be bold to speak the truth and to love others and show others God's love. I am proud of the boy Caleb is and his sincere desire to follow and trust God.

I am praying for my boys' hearts as Beauty's arrival is in the next few weeks. I am praying that she is a healing balm for them, that when Bryan and I head to the hospital, and my mom comes to care for the boys, that the similitude to Samuel's arrival will not be on their minds, and that we will swiftly be back home, a Daddy, Mommy, oldest son, second son, and baby sister. Oh, Lord, hold my sons' hearts close. Grant them peace and a deep trust in You. And please give them the joy of growing up with a healthy baby sister. Amen.

Me and Caleb at his school's Mother's Day brunch

Celebrating Caleb's 6th Birthday

2011-06-03T22:11:00.000-04:00

This week our precious Caleb turned six. We had three days of celebration. On Memorial Day the Thiels came over for a cookout lunch and water fun in the backyard, and on Tuesday, Caleb's birthday, we went to Barnes and Noble to read (at his request) and enjoyed opening his presents, eating red velvet cake, and just being together. Today we went on a birthday trip to the Georgia Aquarium with Caleb's fiancee, Lauren. I distinctly remember the phone conversation Caleb and I had when he first told me about Lauren. It was the first day of preschool, about a week after Samuel was born, and Bryan and I were at Egleston Children's Hospital. We called home from the CICU lobby to see how Caleb's first day went, and he immediately told me that someone asked him to marry her. When I asked him what her name was, he said, "I don't know. I didn't ask." Then I asked, "Well, what did you say?" and he replied, "I said 'Yes!' She was soooo beautiful!" And my loyal Caleb has been devoted to Lauren ever since -- nearly two years -- despite them rarely seeing each other. This year we gave Caleb a few options for his birthday, and without hesitation he picked going to the aquarium with one friend, and he had no trouble naming that friend. So Lauren it was! We had a ball today exploring the whole aquarium and eating lunch at McDonald's, Caleb's choice, and playing on the McD's playground. We also overhead many a hilarious conversation between the engaged couple and witnessed 11 furtive cheek kisses. These two mean business. And funny enough, Lauren's parents, who work with Bryan at North Point Community Church, are named Brian and Katherine.

I cannot possibly express what an incredible joy and privilege it is to be Caleb's mom. There is something about Caleb that I have never seen in another kid -- a gentleness, kindness, selflessness, and purity that amazes me. (It kind of reminds me of Beth from Little Women or Betsy from The Hiding Place.) He has been practically angelic from the time his personality first began to emerge, and he has grown into such an exceptional kid. He loves to give to others and to figure out ways to make other people happy. Just after opening a birthday present that included some stickers, he took out a sheet and handed them to Joel with complete joy. I see how much it blesses him to serve and give to others. A few weeks ago his soccer coach was talking the team through which goal to guard and which to score on. Caleb responded, "I think we should let the other team win." He would prefer to make someone else happy rather than pursue his own pleasure. As we've prayed for countries in turmoil the last few months, he has asked to give some of his money to buy Bibles for the people in Libya, that they might know about God. And he has said when he grows up he wants to travel to "countries where people don't know much about Jesus and teach the leaders there about God and Jesus so that they can lead their countries better and help the people there learn about God." What six year old (or adult!) thinks about such things? Tonight at bedtime he prayed, "Dear God, Thank You for this day and this world You made and for Momma, Dadda, and Joel. Help me to think about You more and love You more and think of others first. Help me to trust You and to love my family and friends even more." I am dumbfounded by the profound depth of asking God to help us think about Him more. I have never thought to pray for that, and it's a wise, wise request. Caleb's sincerity and earnestness and deep love for others often show me my own shortcomings and selfishness and pride. I admire so much about my first born son, and it is beyond a joy to love him every day and spend my energies investing in his soul and life. Caleb, you are a treasure beyond words, and we are CRAZY about you!!! Happy 6th Birthday, my sweet, sweet son.

Caleb requested Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin/Darth Vader fighting on the lava planet, Mustafar. Bryan says this is not his best work, but only one thing can be, and it's far, far better than anything I could create!

The Thiels (minus Emily who is in Texas for the summer) ready to celebrate Caleb -- and sporting red in his honor

The family

Me and my biggest boy

At the GA Aquarium

Caleb and Lauren so happy to be together


The whole gang at the aquarium -- A friend of mine said we'll have a similar picture on their wedding day. :)

Holding hands

On another note, I am now officially full-term as I passed the 37 week mark yesterday. Samuel was born at 36 weeks, 4 days, so we're already passed his arrival point. My fluid is holding steady at a completely normal level, and everything continues to look great. I think I am officially at the "I'm ready when she's ready" point. The most important part to me is that she be ready, of course. Beauty-girl, I can't wait to meet you. Come soon, littlest love! And Lord, grant me patience if we still have three weeks of pregnancy ahead. :)

36 weeks and Some Ultrasound Pictures

2011-05-27T16:42:00.000-04:00

As of yesterday I am 36 weeks pregnant. My fluid levels have been completely normal the last two weeks, and I'm hopeful they will stay that way. Beauty is nearly here, and I am getting so, so excited to meet her. I can hardly wait until she's ready to make her entrance into the world. Because my fluid is down, I am no longer expecting her to come in the next week, but I realize birth is unpredictable, and who knows what will happen. I could make it all the way to June 23, my due date. I suspect if I do, I will be pretty anxious for her arrival. This belly of mine is large, and the recent ultrasounds predict she already weighs over 7 pounds. I am not keen on a 9+ pound baby, but that's the least of my concerns!

Beauty at 31 weeks

Beauty at 32 weeks. In this one, I think she looks a lot like an ultrasound picture of Samuel -- the one on the bulletin board of my perinatologists' office


This is Samuel at 31 weeks -- and the one I think looks like Beauty above.

Previously I mentioned a collage my friends, Tracy and Jennifer, made for me. Since I can't have a picture of all my children together, they came up with this frame. I love it!

And possibly my final belly picture of this pregnancy, here I am at 36 weeks. I am down to about 4 shirts that cover my belly, and now I get regular comments from strangers about how I must be due any minute. They never seem to believe me when I tell them that I have four more weeks to go. But I am so much smaller now than I was with Samuel, so I can't complain.


36 weeks pregnant

And just because I'm crazy about them, here are a couple of pictures of my precious boys taken with my new camera. I am immensely relieved to have a working camera since we will soon have a baby to photograph! :)

My goof. Joel is a continual hoot and the source of much laughter in this house.

I love Caleb's brown eyes and dark, long lashes. Truly, he is the world's kindest, most generous kid.

Caleb's Grief in Light of Beauty

2011-05-24T15:32:00.000-04:00

It has been a true privilege to walk with our boys through their grief and to listen to their thoughts, questions, and hopes. Samuel still comes up regularly in their conversation. Just a few days ago while Bryan and I were on one of our regular walks, I paused our conversation to listen to what Caleb and Joel were saying in the wagon behind us. Caleb was trying to give a relative term of size to each of our children. He said, "I'm big, you're medium, Samuel is small, and Beauty is little." When Joel asked how Mommy and Daddy factored in, Caleb adjusted his scale: "Daddy is big, Mommy is medium, I'm small, you're little, Samuel is littler, and Beauty is...." He fumbled for a more diminutive title for his unborn baby sister. I love that Samuel was part of their equation.

I see Caleb's grief and his experience with death play out in his thoughts about Beauty. Back in December before we had had any scans of Beauty and knew anything about her heart, I was tucking Caleb in one night, and he prayed, "Dear God, please help Mommy not to be worried about the baby in her tummy." When he finished praying, I asked him if he thought I was worried, and he nodded yes. When I asked, "What about?", he replied, "that the baby won't be healthy." It broke my heart that these things were even on his mind: that he was worried about an unhealthy baby and that he was concerned about me being worried. We talked for some time that night about how we didn't know if the baby would be healthy, but we do know that we can trust God to take care of us either way. I told him that God is big enough to heal our hearts even if we have another unhealthy baby; He can help us smile again and laugh and have joy. I asked him if Daddy and I smile now and have fun and laugh with him and Joel, and he answered yes unhesitatingly. I told him that God had done that in us and was healing our sad hearts and giving us joy even in the midst of sorrow, and He could do that again. And I told him that we certainly hope for a healthy baby. Either way, we can trust our good God to be with us.

Not long after that I found out that Caleb sometimes shut himself in Samuel's room. One day when I asked why the curtains in Samuel's room were closed, Caleb told me he would go in there to "remember Samuel." He would close the curtains to make the room dark, shut the door, and turn on the night light. Sometimes I would hear him playing the lullaby music in the crib. It was entirely his own idea to go there and remember, and in some way I felt so proud of him for choosing to grieve.

I was concerned about how he would feel when we changed Samuel's room into Beauty's room, and it was a bit sad for him. I warned him the last day it was still Samuel/Beauty's room that I was going to take down the decorations, and Bryan was going to paint it, and we weren't going to put it back the same way. Later that day I found him in there alone, just standing and looking. When I asked what he was thinking, he said, "I just wanted to come in here one more time to remember Samuel and to see it this way."

A couple of months ago at church, Caleb's kindergarten group was supposed to draw a picture of the people with whom they spend the most time. Here is what Caleb drew:

It is a picture of our family with Beauty in my belly, and Samuel in the clouds in Heaven. (From left to right it's Bryan, Joel, me with Beauty, a tree, and Samuel in the top right hand corner.) I LOVE that Caleb included Samuel in the picture. This family picture is truly special to me!

Just last night as I was tucking Caleb into bed, I told him how excited I'm getting about Beauty's arrival. He said, "I hope she gets to come home to our house." I reassured him that I think she will, that the doctors all think Beauty is healthy. His little face lit up, and he said, "We'll get to watch her grow up!" I love that he's excited about his baby sister, and it saddens my heart to think he fears her death. I am grateful for how grief has changed me and Bryan, for how it's grown us and deepened us, for how it's soldered our hearts to God, but it's harder to see that suffering in my children, though in truth I know the sorrow and hardships are life-giving for them as well. I know their loss grows them, and I want that growth for them, but sometimes it is hard to watch my children suffer.

I so, so look forward to this baby girl's arrival. (Yesterday I was 1 cm dilated --which is exactly where my OB would expect someone to be who is 35 1/2 weeks pregnant with her fourth.) And I can hardly wait to see my boys with their baby sister -- to see them hold her in their arms, to give her kisses, to help me out with all that she needs. I think it will be tremendously healing for their little hearts as it will be for mine. Oh, Lord, may it come to be!

Mother's Day with Caleb, Joel, and Coming Beauty

2011-05-11T13:42:00.000-04:00

Three-fourths of my clan on Mother's Day 2011.

Bryan took this with his iphone. I am sad that I will never have a picture of all of my children together, though my dear friends Tracy and Jennifer did make me the coolest frame with a picture of each of my four kids in it. Once I have a working camera, I will take a picture of the frame and post it. It is an extremely thoughtful gift, and of course I cried when they showed it to me. Bryan loved it so much, he immediately said he wants something like it for his office. I had a great Mother's Day with two of my three boys and with baby sister kicking me fiercely all the while!

A New, Hopeful Perspective

2011-05-08T16:09:00.000-04:00

In the last couple of weeks, I've been feeling a lot more peaceful about Beauty's quickly approaching labor and delivery. I don't doubt I have prayer warriors to thank for that. So, if that's you, thank you!

Yesterday Bryan and I were on our walk together, and I was telling him how I have a new perspective on Beauty's arrival. I had been trying to self-talk myself into being calmer and more peaceful and less afraid. I kept thinking about how people experience pain all the time, but very rarely is it pain with a tangible blessing at the end, with a very intentional purpose to produce the best possible gift in all of life. And sometimes people have dreadfully intense pain that lingers and lingers with little hope of something beautiful at the end. Car accidents and sickness happen all the time; people are abused and mistreated.

A good friend of ours had a cancer scare the last two weeks. Everything suggested cancer -- from age, to life habits, to the way the mass manifested itself, to the specific symptoms he exhibited. The doctors were confident it was cancer. And he would have had to endure chemo, surgery, and aggressive treatment all in the hope that eventually the pain and suffering would vanquish the cancer cells and grant him a long, healthy life yet to live. But there are no promises in that scenario, and the hope of health would be something to cling to in the bad days but not something they could hang their hats on. His road would have been suffering to fight against something, to try to defeat something malignant, attacking his body and health. Miraculously, God granted him a good report with no cancer, and a regimen of antibiotics to fight off an infection. But thinking about what he could have had to endure was challenging to me.

The pain I will endure during labor and Beauty's delivery is the pain of life and hope. It is pain designed to bring forth a child. Pain with a very specific purpose. Pain pregnant with hope. And I think previously I have felt frightened of this pain because I was frightened to hope. With Caleb and Joel, the moment those boys were in my arms, my memory of the pain vanished. Who cared what I had just been through? I had a beautiful, perfect, amazing baby in my arms. Within seconds of delivery, I had forgotten all about what I had suffered. My focus and attention were on the miracle in my arms, my son, begotten of my own body. If anyone asked how labor was, my immediate answer was, "No big deal. I'd do it again in a heartbeat." That's because I was holding the gift that my pain produced.

With Samuel's birth, everything was different. While in labor, I wondered what child was going to come from my womb. Would his heart be ok for the first few months of life like the doctors expected? Would he have Down Syndrome? Would he be ok when he was suffering from SVT during labor, his heart rate skyrocketing every few minutes? There was a good deal of fear mixed in with the pain, though hope was certainly present too. But once I delivered Samuel, and he was whisked away into the corner with no one telling me how he was, with Bryan pretty much out of commission from wooziness, with no one telling me if he looked like he had Downs, and the doctor going to work stitching up my tears, I didn't have the euphoria of holding my baby, washing away what I had just endured. Instead, I was shaking uncontrollably, my knees literally knocking each other and then falling two feet apart over and over again. I was far more aware of the pain of being stitched up than I had been with Caleb or Joel. I felt helpless, a little abandoned, and my arms felt incredibly empty. It wasn't the way a birth was supposed to be. Not at all. And then the hours that followed with no news from the NICU, the days with no answers, and the weeks with rapidly diminishing hope all culminated in a fear of hoping for anything in this life. I knew the joy of hoping in the eternal, of having a sure hope in Heaven and seeing Samuel again, but I think I robbed myself of hoping for the blessings in this life.

Bryan has repeatedly told me about his struggle to hope. After losing both of his parents to cancer by the time he was 21, he found it very hard to hope Samuel could live. I think I now understand his quandary. After Samuel's death, I longed for another baby, for a healthy child, but I was too afraid to actually hope for one. I prayed and beseeched God to grant me the desire of my heart, but my awareness of His ability to say "no" paralyzed my hope. I could hope for something "not-yet and sure" as Bryan talked about at Samuel's funeral, but I couldn't bring myself to hope for something in this finite, limited life.

I think this paralysis has probably been the root of my fears in delivering Beauty. I have been (and still am to some extent) afraid that this birth will result in another heartbreak. I am afraid of her being distressed in labor, of her not being in my arms after delivery, of her being in the NICU or whisked out of my arms moments after birth, of her lungs being inexplicably under-developed. I am afraid of reliving any or all of Samuel's life. Would we survive if it happened? Of course. Would God heal our hearts if another of our children goes to Heaven before us? Absolutely. Would we still find joy in this life and in our healthy boys? Undoubtedly. But I don't want to walk that road. I want to bring home a healthy, thriving Beauty. I want that to be the road God has for us, not more grief in an unhealthy child.

As I have thought about my fears and my reluctance to hope, I have come up with a new picture of Beauty's arrival. I am praying and hoping (!) that her birth will be a major part of our healing, that her arrival into this world will be redemptive. I am praying that we will look back on her birth as a beautiful, life-giving (both literally and figuratively) experience. That somehow we will see God's redemption in Beauty's life, that we will be able to identify God's healing hand in granting her to us, that her entrance into life will be part of healing our Samuel wounds. I think there is a good chance that delivering our daughter will be a truly miraculous (even more so than Caleb and Joel's birth because of having handed Samuel over to God) experience for us. Bryan and I both wonder if it will be incredibly and deeply emotional for us to hold our own daughter in our arms, breathing on her own, pink because her heart is pumping blood exactly as it should, crying because her lungs are strong and sure. And the picture of that, of a healthy baby cradled between us moments after pushing her out of womb, gives me a deep hope and eases my fears of what might be. I can hope for these things. I know they aren't promised, but I can hope for them. And I can trust God with my hopes. If He says "no" again, I can trust Him to be enough to carry us through whatever we must face. He IS enough. But I think hoping for Beauty to be whole and well is good and requires a genuine faith in my good God. And I am praying that when labor starts, my mind and heart go to this picture of hope, of excitement in meeting our first baby girl, and to the anticipation of joy in her arrival as opposed to all the worst case scenarios that involve delivering in the car or the waiting room of the hospital or worst of all, a sick baby girl. I am thankful for this new perspective on our daughter's birth.

On this second Mother's Day without Samuel, as I sit at Starbucks while the boys nap/rest at home, I am continually drawn to thoughts of my Samuel. This morning in church, we sang "Blessed Be Your Name," a song we sang at Samuel's funeral. It made me miss my baby. I wish I could spend Mother's Day with my three sons and one daughter on the way. What would life be like? I can see how much God has healed me since Mother's Day last year, and I am thankful for His faithfulness. This morning I spent a long time praying for the friends I've made since Samuel's death who have also had to hand children over to God. I am praying for their healing, comfort, and hope. And I have new compassion and sympathy for those who are struggling to conceive and find Mother's Day a painful reminder of what (whom) they don't have. I am praying that they too know God's presence and healing and that they have the courage to hope. For our God is enough, and we can rest in Him and trust Him.

Happy Mother's Day to the many amazing moms I know and most especially to my mom who is a light in this dark world and an example of integrity, courage, unconditional love, and servanthood. Mom, you are hands-down the best mom in the world, and I am so unbelievably fortunate to call you mine. Happy Mother's Day!

A Birthday and An Update

2011-05-04T12:30:00.000-04:00

On Sunday, May 1, Joel turned four -- our little joy-bringer with his spunk, hilarity, overflowing affection, stubborn streak, contagious giggle, deep love of Star Wars, devotion to the color orange, and propensity to say the name of whomever he's talking to a dozen times before breathing or allowing them to respond. There is something about Joel that is simply irresistible. He worms his little way into your heart, and then even in the most disobedient or disrespectful of times, there is something in us that can't help smiling at Joel (though we're often trying to hide that smile). He makes us laugh in a way no one can, and he can win anyone over. He's gregarious, imaginative, fiesty, and sometimes a complete pill. And we are totally, unabashedly crazy about him. It's hard to believe he's four. Just yesterday the grocery check-out lady asked him how old he is, and out of habit he answered, "three and a half" until he remembered his birthday and practically shouted, "No! FOUR!" with a huge grin on his face. He is such a big boy and is becoming more and more grown-up and independent. What a tremendous blessing our Joel is!

We celebrated his birthday with a little backyard party: hot dogs, hamburgers, the kiddie pool, a slip-n-slide, and the sprinkler. It was Joel's request, and he loved every minute of it. The Thiels, who all dressed in orange in honor of the birthday boy, joined us as did our good friends, the Elliotts (or 3/4 of the Elliotts, anyway). The boys played hard and loved the slip-n-slide and chasing people with water blasters. Even some of the adults enjoyed the slip-n-slide, though I wisely avoided sliding down on my watermelon belly. :) And of course we had a cake (orange, Joel's selection) decorated by the venerable Bryan Apinis. Joel asked for the Millennium Falcon, Han Solo's ship in Star Wars. Here are some pictures of our grand time celebrating Joel:

As for Beauty, my 32 week appointments revealed that my fluid is back up to borderline polyhydramnios. Technically I am .6 within normal, but my levels are up quite a bit from last week. My belly measurement grew two weeks in six days, so that mirrors increased fluid levels. I suspect my amniotic fluid will simply be in flux, and that's ok. I am happy it's not continually increasing and getting ever higher. Probably I will continue to jump over and under the upper limit of what is considered "normal." If my camera wasn't malfunctioning (or broken?), I would post the most recent 3D ultrasound pictures, but alas.

32 weeks, 2 days pregnant

I am feel extraordinarily blessed these days with a birthday Joel, a growing Beauty, the world's kindest child, Caleb, my amazing husband, the gift of spring, and the hope of Heaven. And I am getting increasingly excited about meeting my fourth child. :)

Seeing Reminders of Samuel in the Spring

2011-04-28T13:43:00.002-04:00

In this season of spring and new life, I find myself thinking of Samuel a lot. Not only do I have new life growing in me, but I also see it all around. And much of it is related to Samuel. Our gardenia plant that Bryan's work team gave us when Samuel was born has its first bloom of the year. The knock-out rose bush my wives' group gave us on Samuel's first birthday is in bloom, and the Japanese maple we call "The Samuel tree" is full of vibrant, red leaves. All three make me smile, and all three make me think of our sweet boy, alive, growing, and blooming in Heaven. I am thankful for the beautiful reminders of his life, for the friends who gave them to us, and for God's yearly gift of new life each spring. It's such a picture of hope, redemption, and the life to come. Thank you, Jesus, for spring and for Samuel!

And just for the fun of it, here are a couple of pictures of our family celebrating the UConn Huskies' NCAA basketball championship. Bryan's high school was on UConn's campus, and his whole extended family is die-hard Husky fans. The Thiels gave us all UConn shirts for Easter, and we happily (well, all except for Joel who was super-anxious to go on an Easter egg hunt) posed for a family picture.

Beauty's Approaching Arrival

2011-04-27T13:31:00.000-04:00

I am now officially in the stage of pregnancy where I have two doctor's appointments a week. I have a sonogram every Friday, and an OB appointment every Monday. This past Friday I had my first sonogram in four weeks, and we got encouraging news. My amniotic fluid level was back in the normal range -- and well within normal at that. I had not expected my levels to go down and am relieved that, at least for now, everything is normal. When I asked why my fluid levels are down, they said there isn't really a good answer for that question; sometimes it happens, and fluid levels do fluctuate. So, it's entirely possible (even likely?) that they will go back up. They estimate Beauty weighs 3 pounds, 15 ounces at this point. The other good news is that Beauty is head down for the first time. She had been transverse -- basically lying sideways across my abdomen. And yesterday at my OB appointment, my belly was measuring much more on track than before. I am measuring only two and a half weeks ahead instead of five. With Samuel, at each appointment I measured farther and farther ahead, so I am encouraged by this turn of events. It makes me hopeful that perhaps Beauty will not make her appearance too early.

I have been kind of plagued by delivery fears this time around. It seems so silly to be worried about delivery after having already done it three times, but for a myriad of reasons, I am much more concerned this time than I ever have been before. With Caleb, my first, I was peaceful because to some degree I was oblivious and ignorant. I figured I could do it because women throughout all of time have done it -- and most of them without any medical assistance. If they could do it, I could. And that's true. But once I had done it, and without medication, my appreciation for the difficulty of it and the very real pain of it was quite a bit greater. I was more nervous with Joel, my second, simply because I knew it would really, truly hurt. But I wasn't scared.

But after having Samuel, my fears are heightened. I am sure there are more factors to my fear than I am even aware of, but part of it is my concern that we will have another unhealthy baby, and the rapture of having just delivered a baby will be squelched by the reality of a sick baby. I am worried I will head into labor rather panicky, and that seems like a recipe for disaster -- especially if I go unmedicated for the fourth time. Another major component of my fear is how rapid my labors have become. With each child, time has shaved off the overall length of my labors, and with Samuel, it was three hours from start to finish. When I arrived at the hospital, two hours into labor, I was 3-4 centimeters dilated. Fifteen minutes later, I was 7 cm, and less than a half an hour after that, Samuel was out. It was unbelievably quick, and I remember feeling pretty out of control because of how rapidly everything progressed and how there was no time for me to get into a rhythm. Plus, Samuel's heartrate was seriously spiking during labor. It would jump between the 140's and the 240's, and I was certainly worried about his well-being. But labor was too fast to really do anything about it. I was at the hospital less than an hour before Samuel was born.

If labor with Beauty is even an hour shorter, I have almost no time to determine I am in fact in labor, get Bryan home from work, get someone here to watch the boys, drive the bare minimum of 25 minutes to the hospital (up to an hour if it's traffic time!), and actually get into a hospital room before she will be out. The thought of not making it to the hospital in time sends my stomach into turmoil. And honestly, it's a real possibility. Bryan, who gets seriously queasy around blood, is planning to come to an OB appointment with me to get an emergency crash course in delivering in the car -- just in case. Obviously that's a worst case scenario, but it's better to be prepared.

I spoke with my OB yesterday about my concerns, and he said we should prepare for the worst and hope for the best. So I am trying to be prepared for a rushed, frantic labor where we won't have time to get everything in order and leisurely make our way to the hospital. But I am hoping I go into labor when Bryan is already home and my mom is in town or my friend Libby is home, a mere five minutes away. I am hoping we have some warning signs ahead of time, so we can be ready, and I am really, really hoping that I am not in transition (when you progress from 7cm-10cm and experience the most intense pain) while in the car or the hospital lobby.

Most of all, I am praying that Beauty is fully healthy, and I am working to trust all my concerns into God's hands. I know He is trustworthy, so I have been a little baffled by my seeming inability to trust Him with this labor. A few weeks ago, I was so nervous I actually got sick to my stomach every time I thought or talked about delivery. Now I am calmer and more peaceful (surely due to prayer on the part of some dear friends and family), and I am feeling more able to handle whatever it is that comes my way. I know I have done this three times before, and I know with God's help, I can do it again. In many ways my births with Caleb and Joel were beautiful and wonderful, and I looked forward to doing it again someday. Samuel's birth was different because I wasn't holding my precious son after all the work of delivery, but I have another God-given chance to birth a child, and I don't want to waste it or dismiss it or wish it away. I know it's the way God designed life to begin, and I want to walk that with courage, faith, trust, and dependence on Him. So I am continually working to "cast all my anxieties on him because he cares for me" (I Peter 5:7) and to fix my thoughts on Him, so that He will keep me in perfect peace (Isaiah 26:3). I know Beauty is His, not mine, and I can, in fact, entrust her to His care!

A Few Pictures

2011-04-03T15:51:00.000-04:00

Joel -- The World's Cutest Kitchen Helper

Caleb -- The World's Cutest Soccer Player

28 weeks 3 days pregnant with "Beauty"

Growing with Beauty

2011-03-31T16:24:00.000-04:00

Last Friday I saw both the perinatologist and my ob again. The boys actually came to the ultrasound with Bryan and I so that they, too, could get a peek at Beauty. It was hard to get a good look at her face because her legs were right in front of it, but the boys enjoyed seeing her nonetheless.

They measured my amniotic fluid again, and it was even higher than last time, so I do officially have polyhydramnios. My abdomen measurements support this as I measured 32 weeks pregnant when I was only 27 weeks. So, I am measuring a full five weeks ahead. I look pretty darn pregnant. In fact, today a man at Bed, Bath, and Beyond asked me, "How many more months do you have? Or should I say weeks, days, hours?" Despite the extra fluid, the perinatologist seemed pretty relaxed about the state of affairs. His biggest concern is preterm labor, as is ours. He did tell us that two-thirds of women with polyhydramnios have no known cause for it, and though Samuel's heart was a cause for it last time, in all likelihood there is no real reason for it this time -- especially since I passed the glucose test and do not have gestational diabetes. Bryan and I are both feeling pretty calm and unconcerned about the diagnosis. I continue to have some apprehension about Beauty's lungs being fully developed when she arrives, mainly because of how underdeveloped Samuel's were, but otherwise I'd say we're resting easy.

Because of my extra fluid, once I reach 32 weeks I will begin twice weekly doctor's appointments. I did the same thing with Samuel. I will see my ob on Mondays for a non-stress test where they strap a belt around my belly and monitor Beauty's movements and heartbeat, and then on Fridays I will have an ultrasound to measure fluid, look at the blood flow to the umbilical cord, check to see she is not under stress, etc. It's rather inconvenient to arrange childcare twice a week, but the upside is that we'll know how she's doing on a very regular basis. And we'll get lots of ultrasound pictures of our cutie. :) Actually, one of Samuel's 3D ultrasound pictures from a year and a half ago is on the bulletin board at the perinatologists', and I love to look at it and even touch it when I walk by. It's very faded, and soon I'm sure they will take it down, but it's strangely comforting to know my baby boy is gracing the wall of somewhere other than our house.

As I entered the third trimester today (28 weeks) and as we prepare for Beauty's arrival, I am getting more and more excited about meeting her. We are picking out a paint color for her room and are in the process of transitioning it from Samuel's room to Beauty's room. Every day it is a little less Samuel's as we paint swatches on the wall, organize the closet and put her few girl clothes front and center, and pick out paper with which to make and frame her initials. Last week I called it Beauty's room once, and Caleb was immediately bothered. He said, "It's not Beauty's room! It's Samuel's room!" I told him I was feeling kind of confused about it and wasn't sure what to call it. I explained that it was Samuel's room, but it will be Beauty's room, and I never know what to name it. I asked him what he thought we should do, and he decided to call it "the baby's room." I am happy for him to do so, but it doesn't really satisfy my confusion. I finally decided to call it Samuel's room until we truly transition it to her room -- paint it, change the decorations, put up her initials, etc. Even if Samuel was alive, we would move him into another room and turn "the baby's room" into Beauty's room. Once upon a time it was Joel's room, and we moved him out to make room for Samuel. So it is a room that would have held Joel, Samuel, and Beauty, and therefore it doesn't feel so heartbreaking for it to cease being Samuel's room. Part of the closet is allotted to Samuel's things -- the keepsakes I sorted through awhile ago, the blanket we wrapped and held him in while he was dying, the lovely afghan my grandmother knit for him while he was in my womb, etc. It will be sad to have his life relegated to a corner of the closet, but at the same time, it feels like a natural part of healing and grieving. And his picture will stay in the room as will the wooden block with all his birth stats that my brother's family gave us shortly after he was born.

I do find myself missing him a lot lately. Today when Beauty gave me a particularly sharp kick, I started to call her Samuel, and it made me sad. I have been trying to envision what life with four would be like -- a 6 year old, 4 year old, not quite 2 year old, and a newborn. When I think about it, my head spins a little. I wish we had gotten the chance to live that chaos though I wonder how crazy it would have beeen if Samuel wasn't a healthy boy. No doubt our world would be surprisingly different if Samuel had lived but still required intense medical care. Despite how much I miss him, I do love thinking about him healthy, happy, and complete in Heaven.

These are days in which I try to live in peace and joy and make the most of this time I have with my daughter. There are no promises that I will have many, many days to spend with her, so I am cherishing each day I get -- with hopes of abundantly more. Bryan and I are mentally preparing for 8 more weeks of pregnancy instead of 12 since Samuel made his entrance 3 1/2 weeks early, and my fluid levels mean an early birth is likely. So we're working hard to prepare for her arrival, to finally settle on one of the two names we've narrowed the list down to, and to increase the boys' independence and responsibilities. We are living in hopes of a healthy baby and many changes ahead, and we are trusting God to be God. In the days before our daughter makes her arrival, we are thankful for a God we can depend on, that we don't have to live in fear, and that He created this little one exactly as He saw fit. We can't wait to see her for ourselves.

Beauty Update

2011-03-11T23:03:00.000-05:00

I had an ultrasound this afternoon to look at our Beauty girl again. Boy, is she cute! The sonographer checked her stomach measurement which they had been minorly concerned about last time, and it was completely normal. In fact, it's now above average. So that was certainly good news.

The news I wasn't so happy to get is about my amniotic fluid. With Samuel I had polyhydramnios -- too much amniotic fluid -- and in all likelihood that was because of his heart defect. Today I learned that my amniotic fluid is once again high. High amniotic fluid can be an indication that 1) something is wrong with the baby's heart, 2) something is wrong with the baby's kidneys, or 3) the mother has gestational diabetes (diabetes only during pregnancy). So far, both Beauty's heart and kidneys appear to be normal. So we will wait and see if my gestational diabetes test is positive. After discussing the results with me, they actually had me go back in the ultrasound room to remeasure the amniotic fluid, and the second time they were even higher -- and she measured me twice on my second go just to be sure, with the second of those measurements the highest of them all.

Should this condition persist, I will be at risk for preterm labor. That is concerning given Samuel's under-developed lungs. Lungs are the last organ to develop in pregnancy, and though Samuel was 36 1/2 weeks (nearly full-term), his lungs looked like a baby born at 26 weeks (which I will be next week). I did ask if polyhydramnios is related to poor lung development, and the NP told me that it's actually the reverse: too little amniotic fluid can result in poor lung development. At least that was a relief.

The doctors are clearly concerned about this new state of affairs, but they are not alarmed. I would say that fairly accurately describes how Bryan and I are feeling as well. It makes me nervous to know that something is going on that can be indicative of heart defects and to know we're at risk for an early birth and therefore the possibility of under-developed lungs. Repeating any of the diagnoses we faced with Samuel is not something I am keen to do.

Most of all, this has reminded me that nothing is certain or promised in regards to Beauty. It makes me work to open my hands back up and hold her loosely before God, knowing she is His, not mine. Bryan and I have never assumed we will have a healthy baby to hold, love, and raise at the end of this pregnancy, but slowly over the last months, I have begun to think that Beauty will probably be the baby we have beseeched God to grant us. Today shook that a little. Regardless, God is enough NO MATTER what is ahead, but I am praying for smooth sailing. :) We covet your prayers as well. We want to rest in the peace that God is good and faithful and sufficient. I want to live by the mantra that kept me sane and peaceful during Samuel's life: "You will keep in perfect peace him whose thoughts are fixed on you" (Isaiah 26:3). And I don't want my history to make me panicky or fearful or anxious. I simply want to trust God to be God, and I want to confidently follow where He leads. In all likelihood, Beauty is healthy, and my amniotic fluid won't have a significant impact on her well-being or her life when she makes her entrance. And I don't want to waste the upcoming weeks in fear or trembling. Instead I want to treasure her life and the time I have with her in my belly, and I want to rest in my good God.

A couple of weeks ago -- 23 1/2 weeks pregnant

Ultrasound pictures of Beauty at 25 weeks:

A Grief Heavy Week

2011-03-09T16:18:00.004-05:00

Last week was unusually grief-filled for me. With Beauty on the way, we have a lot of projects we hope to accomplish before her arrival, and one of them has been hanging over my head for nearly a year and a half. All of the precious things we have from Samuel's short life are in a keepsake box the hospital gave us when he died. When we got home that day, I just put it on the floor under the picture window in our room. As notes, cards, letters, and gifts arrived in the days following his death, we started to put them under the window too, until pretty soon it was an ungainly pile of nearly every tangible link we have to Samuel. It continued to mount, and I continued to avoid organizing it and sorting through it. We read every word that came to us in those days, but I didn't know what to do with them afterward, so to the pile they went.

For over the last year, that collection of things has been on my mind and not just as an eyesore. I knew I needed to go through it all, order it, and put it away, but I shuddered at the thought of actually doing it. So it just sat there. Once we knew Beauty was coming, my burden for the pile grew, and two weekends ago I finally tackled it. I went through Samuel's box and found his hospital tags, his foot and hand prints, his socks which were the only article of clothing he ever wore while alive, a picture the NICU took of him in his first hours of life while we waited anxiously in a post-delivery room, the blanket he laid on the last week of his life in the CICU, the once white but now bloodstained prayer pillow case someone gave us that is covered in verses and the meanings of Samuel's name, his newborn birth statistics from the hospital, the molding of his foot, the sign I made with his name on it that hung above his bed, and numerous other keepsakes. Going through them was heartrending in many ways. I am thankful for every little treasure we have from his life, but holding them, smelling them to see if any scent of his lingers, and remembering the overwhelming joy at his birth as well as the incomparable pain at his death was difficult and exhausting.

After I went through his memory box, I reread every letter and card we received and organized them in a large file box as well as a shoebox. I was touched anew at the kindness of our friends, our church, and even strangers. So many letters that were meaningful at the time were healing afresh, and I shed a lot of tears pouring over those pages. I even found one Chili's gift card that we missed the first time through. For those hours, I felt like I re-entered the world of intense grief: loss, sorrow, heaviness, ache, weariness, and tears engulfed me. When I finally finished sorting through everything, I was completely exhausted and felt like I needed to sleep for the rest of the day. It took a lot out of me. But, I am glad I did it. I am grateful for the reminder of God's incredible care for us and people's genuine displays of love and compassion. And I am glad to look under our window and see a cleared out space with just a memory box, a shoebox, and a file box waiting to go into the Samuel's closet (or is it Beauty's? I am struggling with calling it Samuel's room or Beauty's room as both names seem to neglect the other precious life) once I clean it out.

A few days later was the year and a half anniversary of Samuel's death. I was heavy-hearted all that day and just plain lonesome for my baby boy. It is hard to believe that so much time has elapsed since we were in Samuel's presence. A year and a half sounds like a significant amount of time, and feeling so far removed from his life makes me sad. In some ways I feel thankful because we've experienced much of the healing I expected a year and half to bring, and in some ways I feel heartbroken that it's been so long. Time is a friend and an enemy in grief as it softens the wounds of loss but also pulls us away from the one we love. I picture Samuel stranded in an ocean, and the current of time pulls me ever farther from him, my body drifting helplessly away from my son. Though the waves push me closer to land, they take me from what I treasure and long to cling to. I know time is part of this grief journey, but sometimes I find myself resenting it while other times I am on my knees in gratitude for its gradual lifting of pain. The year and half anniversary was a grief-laden day for me.

A couple of nights later, I woke up around 4:30 am and couldn't go back to sleep for thinking about Samuel and our days when he was alive. I kept playing through our routine in the first weeks of his life when we still came home at night to sleep. I started thinking that in a few months I will wake up at some crazy hour every night to nurse Beauty. That reminded me of how awful it was to have to wake up in the middle of the night to pump during Samuel's life. We would stumble in the house around 8:00pm after a full day at the hospital, barely in time to kiss Caleb and Joel goodnight. Then we would sit down to a very late and quiet dinner, too worn out to talk about our day or even fill my mom in on what happened. Usually that was followed by writing a blog entry and trying to stay awake long enough for a late night pumping before crawling into bed in complete exhaustion. Around 3:30 am, my alarm would go off, and I would wake up to the horrible realization that our baby was in the CICU, and his life was by no means certain. I would have to turn on the lights to pump, all the while dreading the phone call I was going to have to make to the CICU to see how Samuel was doing in the hours since we'd last called to check on him. Then Bryan or I would have to fully sterilize all the equipment and go downstairs to put the milk in the freezer, my stomach in knots every second about the impending phone call. Once I finally picked up the phone, my hands and body were usually shaking, fearing what news we might receive. On more than one occasion, we got very discouraging news about Samuel in the night, and that meant staying awake longer to call back for an update and fearing the worst in every minute of waiting. Then our alarms would wake us early, so we could shower, eat breakfast, spend a short while with Caleb and Joel, and leave in time to make the 45-60 minute drive and arrive when the floor opened back up after shift change. Living that day over and over in those weeks was beyond tiring. It was completely unsustainable.

In some ways, it was easier once we were at the hospital 24 hours a day. Even though we climbed in bed at 12:00, woke at 5:45 to see Samuel for about an hour before shift change and to pump, and then tried to steal an extra 45 minutes of sleep (yeah, right) before eating breakfast, showering, and getting back on the floor when it opened, it wasn't as taxing as being away from Samuel all night long. I knew bad news was coming while we were at Egleston full-time, but I also knew we were only a hallway away, and my attention didn't have to be so divided. Anyway, remembering all of that kept me awake the rest of the night, and I was in a bit of a daze the next day.

All in all, last week was the hardest grief week I've had in some time. I simply miss our Samuel. I wonder if Beauty's arrival will spark a whole new wave of grief. I've read from numerous sources that the gift of a new, healthy baby can be extremely difficult in terms of grief. I have no doubt she will be part of our healing, but I anticipate she may very well be part of our grieving too. Grief is a strange road, and no two roads are the same. I am thankful for this journey God has faithfully carried us through thus far, and I am thankful that more healing is ahead. I am grateful for the little girl who is kicking me with surprising force while I write about her big brother, and I am glad that God will be with us in the healing and grief that accompany her arrival. Strange as it may sound, I thank God for the grief He has brought into our lives and for the ways He has used it to shape us, to change us, and to shower us with love. I wouldn't trade our grief for a suddenly healed and joyful me. The journey of healing and hurting has been an unexpected gift, and I believe it will continue to be a blessing in my life.

As Beauty Grows

2011-02-22T16:26:00.000-05:00

A week and a half ago, I saw a perinatologist again for my monthly check-up. I loved watching Beauty move around and seeing her little hands, feet, profile, and heart. My favorite moment, however, was when I got to see her in 3D for the very first time. What a beauty she is indeed! It's a strange moment when you get a glimpse of your baby's face who is in still in your womb. Seeing her turn her head toward me almost felt like being let in on a tremendous secret or like opening a birthday present early. Surely I'm not supposed to be able to see her little face already! But of course it was wonderful. Here are some photos from the appointment.

The perinatologist, who I hadn't seen before, told me that she has one minor concern about Beauty. She says it's a small thing but something they want to keep their eye on nonetheless. At my 17 week ultrasound, Beauty's abdomen was measuring in the 32nd percentile. At my 21 week ultrasound, it measured in the 12th percentile. She said they don't like to see downward trends, so they will be keeping a close watch to see what happens as I progress. The normal range is from the 5th - 95th percentile, so she is still measuring within normal limits, but the decrease is minorly concerning. I have not spent much time worrying about this. Obviously I would rather they have zero concerns, but this seems like a "victim of technology" kind of worry. The vast majority of people don't even have ultrasounds at weeks 17 and 21 to compare measurements, so for me to sweat about it seems kind of silly. In fact, I completely forgot to tell anyone other than Bryan about it for a full week. So, clearly I'm not worked up about this concern. I do hope that in two and half weeks I will get encouraging news, and I covet prayers for Beauty's health, of course.

I have spent much of the past week in bed with back problems. I've had a finicky back since junior high, and in 9th grade I had two 14-inch nickel rods put in my back for scoliosis. I live with constant shoulder and neck pain, but sometimes my lower back acts up, and then I end up in bed. I think it's been ten years since the last time it really happened. The time in bed has been trying for me (and the whole family!), and I have new sympathy for moms who end up on bedrest. I can't even imagine! I am so grateful that my bedridden time was due to my back and not my pregnancy.

As I laid in bed, I found myself thinking a lot about Samuel. I was sore from being in bed all the time and not being able to vary my position much, and I couldn't help but think about Samuel who spent his entire life in bed. He wasn't rocked or cuddled or swayed. He wasn't hugged or held. He simply had to lie there for 31 days. Most nurses didn't spend much energy trying to shift his position, so his head was pretty misshaped. And in the last ten days of his life, he was so sick they couldn't even angle him, so he laid flat on his back the whole time. He developed bed sores on his back and neck from lying in the same position and from the oscillator (a kind of breathing machine that caused his body to vibrate constantly so he had continual friction between his skin and the blankets beneath him). They were open wounds, and a special nurse from wound care came every few days to address them. But eventually he was too sick to move him at all, so we couldn't even look at them and attend to them.

It's hard to remember those things about my baby son. I prefer to remember how much we loved him or the absolute joy we felt when he opened his eyes and looked at us or the hours we spent reading The Chronicles of Narnia out loud to him. But the ugly memories creep up too sometimes, and I can't turn away from them in volitional forgetfulness. I have to remember all of it -- the good moments and even the worst moments. It's all part of his life, and it's all part of our story, and I don't want to ignore the painful stuff just because it's hard. The hard stuff is real too, and it shapes us, and hopefully it changes us and deepens us and draws us closer to Jesus.

As my belly continues to grow, and as Beauty's movements get more and more pronounced, I find myself thinking of and remembering Samuel more and more. I miss having that sweet boy safe in my tummy. I miss being his safe, growing place. I miss his kicks and nudges and the way I already loved him so much after learning about his heart. I miss that little life who is no longer in me. Just last night Joel prayed, "Help Samuel to have a good time in Heaven" and though I know it's already true, I found myself echoing Joel. "Yes, Lord, give Samuel the fullness of life he didn't get on earth." Though I miss my baby boy all the time, I know he's full of joy with Jesus, and I couldn't ask for anything more. And in these days with Beauty safe in my womb, I rejoice in her life, her kicks, her squirms, and the hope of a life spent cuddling, hugging, holding, and kissing my sweet daughter.

"Absolutely Beautiful"

2011-02-08T14:14:00.000-05:00

Yesterday Bryan and I headed to Dr. Videlefsky's office for our first real information about Beauty's heart. It's the appointment I have been anticipating since October 15th when I found out I was pregnant. We were both nervous on our way down, but we were calm and eager to learn something about our coming daughter's heart.

Dr. V was Samuel's amazing pediatric cardiologist, and we first saw him when I was 20 weeks pregnant with Samuel. I saw him monthly throughout my pregnancy, and then we saw a good deal of him at Northside and Egleston once Samuel arrived. He was always full of genuine kindness, compassion, gentleness, and humiilty. We liked him from the start, and our admiration only grew throughout Samuel's life and since. Since Samuel's death, we have seen him twice. He came to the funeral, which was incredibly kind of him, and we visited him for Samuel's birthday, taking tins of cookies and our thanks. I was looking forward to seeing him again, the face I associate with Samuel more than almost any other. And I was hoping that this time he would have good news for us.

It was a little strange to be back in his office again, to be a patient once more in a pediatric cardiologist's suite. And being there brought back a lot of memories for me and Bryan. We both washed our hands while we were there, and Bryan was struck by the smell of the soap. Once I smelled my hands, I realized it was the exact soap that Egleston uses, and both of us were flooded with memories. Since we washed our hands endlessly while at the hospital, we perpetually smelled like that soap during Samuel's life, and it's impossible for us to separate the smell from our son and his life at the hospital. When we were leaving and were in the underground parking garage, I moved my hand in front of my face and got a strong whiff of the soap. My stomach turned immediately, and I got the shivers that accompany a bad association. I couldn't help but feel like we were leaving our Samuel once again, that we were headed home to sleep for the night and knew our baby was sick as could be upstairs, and who knew what would happen in the night. Leaving Samuel was always the worst for us. We had to tear ourselves away every night, and I even felt that way leaving his side to go eat a meal or run to the bathroom. Bryan and I, though especially Bryan, were surprised by how much our trip to Dr. V's churned up.

Once we got in to the echo room, and the tech, Michelle, started the echo of Beauty's heart, I was ready to know if everything was alright. Michelle said Beauty was cooperating beautifully, and she was able to get every picture she needed without any trouble, something Bryan and I had prayed for. After twenty minutes or so of looking and taking pictures, she went to get Dr. V. Dr. Videlefsky had already popped his head in and greeted us and told us how glad he was to see us and how he hoped he would be able to give us good news. When he came in to look at the pictures, he talked us through everything he saw -- four strong chambers, no holes in the ventricular wall, normally related great vessels, etc, etc. In my mind I was ticking possible problems off of a list. Once he went through all the pictures, he said, "She is absolutely beautiful, absolutely perfect. There is nothing questionable about her heart. Her heart is absolutely normal." I had tears streaming down my face. He went on to say that you can never be 100%, but he saw nothing to cause him any concern whatsoever, he could see everything he needed to see, and there was nothing to even rouse a question in his mind. There is no reason for us to see him again during my pregnancy unless I feel anxious and want him to take another look, which he would be glad to do. He also said he will look at Beauty and do an echo of her heart once she is born just to be extra safe, but that he is confident she has a healthy heart. He delivered this news with conviction, confidence, and a definite sense of absolute. It was more than I even knew to hope for.

I was teary during his whole delivery and kept wiping away my tears. I worked hard not to turn into a blubbering idiot, at which I succeeded. :) Bryan sat beside me, squeezing my hand and being misty-eyed. We were overjoyed. And it was evident to us that Dr. V was nearly as thrilled to finally be able to give us good news as we were to receive it. We walked out praising Jesus for answering our prayer.

We are both a little overwhelmed by the good and hopeful news. We know God gets all the credit and glory for it, and we are humbled by His kindness. But the truth is, He would be no less good if we had gotten bad news yesterday. He would be no less worthy of our praise and thanks and bowed hearts. He has been good through the valley, and He will be good on the mountain top as well. He is King of both our sorrow and our joy. And I am speechless with thanks for who He is -- and for this daughter of ours, kicking me as I type.

So, now comes the joy of planning for Beauty without the constant question of "will she..." I am sure there will still be some "will she" questions, like will she have healthy lungs? will she really have a perfectly healthy heart? and will she really grow up in this house with us all taking care of her and holding her and loving her? But the frequency of those questions will diminish. And we can get her room ready and carseat bought and worn out baby items replaced and her name picked without the nagging fear that it is all pointless. So, thank you, Jesus, for our baby girl and for her health. We are overwhelmed with gratitude and anticipation. Thank you!

20 weeks pregnant

Celebrating "Beauty"

2011-01-31T21:31:00.000-05:00

After finding out that we're having a girl, Bryan and I asked the boys if they wanted to pick a new nickname for the baby. Joel thought for a minute and came up with up a keeper: "Beauty." So now our little girl is affectionately known as Beauty. We've been celebrating her life a lot the last couple of weeks, and I'm still getting used to the idea that she's a girl! Both boys wanted to use some of their Christmas money to buy her a gift. Joel picked out a little pink bunny, and Caleb picked out some cute little dresses for her. It's adorable to see their enthusiasm. One night we went to Rita's for pink colored Italian ice -- though the boys ended up picking a nasty looking army green mint chocolate flavor.

The day after we found out that we're having a daughter, the Thiels threw us an "it's a girl!" party. They had us come over for pink desserts -- strawberry ice cream with pink coolwhip, strawberry topping, pink sprinkles, and pink lemonade. It was pretty precious. Though I hope my daughter is not dressed in pink every day of her life and I secretly hope she's not crazy about the color, I thought the pink party was great. Here are a few pictures of the fun we've had:

Bryan also made family pancakes this week. He made a special pancake for each of the four of us and one for Beauty too. We've recently fallen in love with Mo Willems Knuffle Bunny books, and he made a different character (or phrase as you will soon see) for each of us.

It has been so fun to celebrate our hope for this little girl. Bryan and I still don't make any assumptions that we'll have a little girl to bring home with us, but we are grateful for this time to enjoy her life and celebrate her regardless of what the future holds. We certainly hope that in 5 months we have a healthy baby in the house, but no matter what, it is a gift to rejoice in her life now.

And while I'm at it, here are two other pancakes from Bryan's recent creations. The first is a LEGO version of Lando Calrissian from Star Wars, and the second is Captain Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean.

A Sacred Place

2011-01-30T21:20:00.001-05:00

Last week we were able to spend some time with Kaleb Hardin's family. We attended the viewing and then the next day spent several hours after the funeral with the family and their guests. Though I felt some apprehension about stepping into their pain when our loss wasn't that long ago and when the story is close to home, I am so, so glad we went. I feel like we were invited into a sacred place -- the aftershock of a child's death and the immense grief of a parent for a son. It's a place most would fear to tread, but for us, it was holy ground, and we were honored to be a part of it. I felt so privileged to sit with April and Tyler, to share tears with them, to remember the beginning of our boys' lives at Egleston, to talk about the hope of Heaven, to smile about the ways in which our sons brought us joy. It was healing for both families, I think. Another Egleston family was there, too, with their precious 17 month old daughter, Sarah Beth, and we all loved watching her cruise around and seeing her be the picture of health despite a severe heart defect and another surgery looming in the not-too-distant future. I think it was good for our three heart families -- with very different stories and outcomes -- to reconnect, and I felt God's presence there as we remembered, hoped, and grieved.

Thank you, Hardins, for inviting us into your grief. We are better for it, and we are praying continually for you. I love to picture Samuel and Kaleb both enjoying Heaven and fully healthy and alive. Someday, we will get to see it firsthand, and as Stephen Curtis Chapman's pastor said after the death of his daughter, Maria, our boys are more a part of our future than they are of our past. We love you, Hardins, and our prayers will not stop.

Kaleb Hardin

2011-01-26T14:36:00.000-05:00

This week Samuel's first friend from Egleston's CICU died out of the blue. Kaleb Hardin was Samuel's dock neighbor for about two weeks. He was born 10 days after Samuel, and his parents are the first ones we started talking to once we lost our tunnel vision, and we saw more than our own pain at the hospital. His parents, Tyler and April, and his grandparents, Jerry and Sharon, were there everyday I can remember. We would talk to them while washing our hands in the huge silver sink outside the CICU, and when we were locked out for some procedure and anxiously waiting to be let in, we would commiserate in the hallway.

I remember when another baby died on the CICU, and we were all kicked out for an hour. We gathered in the hall and sat in silence for awhile, thinking how that could (and probably would for Samuel) be us someday. Another day as I was going into the pumping room, Tyler and April were just outside and asked about Samuel. I burst into tears and told them it was only a matter of time, and I can still see their looks of horror. They posted prayer requests for Samuel on their caring bridge page that night. A couple of days before Samuel died, they asked the CICU desk if they could come see us at our dock and break the "only 2 people at a bedside" rule. They bravely came over and saw Samuel (who looked awful) and told us how sorry they were and that they were praying. Jerry, Kaleb's grandpa, came by himself one night shortly before Samuel's death and left abruptly in tears. It was close to home to see another baby dying when your own was on the brink of life and death.

I was thrilled when I found their family on facebook a few weeks later and was able to track with Kaleb, whom we had been praying for from the day he showed up at the hospital. Kaleb was the "K" we referred to during Samuel's life, and he was doing so well. I loved seeing pictures of the chubby, smiling baby who was Samuel's first friend. The last I had heard about Kaleb was his 1st birthday in August, and he was doing great and had had a good cardiologist appointment. So I was shocked when I saw on facebook that he died on Sunday night.

As soon as I read the news, I burst into tears. I was sitting next to Caleb doing homeschool, and he was immediately concerned. It took me several minutes to be able to tell him what had happened, and he just leaned over, wrapped his arms around my arm, and rested his head on me in sorrow and comfort. He stayed that way for a long time.

The last few days I haven't been able to stop thinking about Tyler and April and what they're going through. They are on my mind almost every moment. I slept fitfully Monday night, waking six or seven times, always with the Hardins on my mind and heart. I would wake praying for them. Even when I was sleeping, I was dreaming about their family and praying for them all the while. It made me think that this is what many of our friends must have felt for us when Samuel died. I know people carried some of our burden for us, and we are praying to be able to do that for the Hardins. When I woke for about the fifth time on Monday night, I thought, "Lord, thank you that I'm not sleeping well. May this mean that Tyler and April do sleep soundly tonight and that their dreams are peaceful, quiet, and renewing. When they wake in the morning, may their first thought be that You are with them. Let us carry some pain for them." I know what we feel on their behalf is nothing compared to what they feel without their precious 17 month old son.

I have been thinking a lot about the other heart parents we know and imagining that they feel horrified by Kaleb's death. It's a dreadful reminder that this could happen to them too, and I know they hurt for the Hardins. From this side of having already lost a child, my horror is not at what I might have to live through but is at what I know the Hardins will have to live through and are living through. These are the dreadful days of funerals and making decisions about burials, coffins, and other such appalling things. These are the days no parent should have to face.

Today I have been a mess. I've talked to Bryan on the phone a couple of times, always through tears and chokes. Joel asked me, "Mommy, why are you like that?" and then proceeded to say, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry" repeatedly when I told him I was sad about Kaleb Hardin. I was supposed to call Sharon, Kaleb's grandma, today, but I couldn't even think about it without bursting into tears, so I had to ask Bryan to call instead. Bryan asked me, "Are you sad for them, or are you sad for us?" and I said, "Both." I am terribly sad for Kaleb's family. And I am terribly sad for us. Our loss is fresh, and so I can put myself in their shoes quite easily. And I miss Samuel. Alot.

The one thing I continually cling to is that God has shown Himself so abundantly faithful to us in our grief and loss. He has revealed Himself in ways I couldn't have known to long for. He has sealed our hearts to His. I feel so richly blessed by Samuel's life and by our grief. And I can hope the same for the Hardins. They are already clinging to God with all their might, and I know our good God will be faithful to them as He has been to us. I am praying that they too will find that their Valley of Weeping becomes "a place of refreshing springs where pools of blessing collect after the rains" (Psalm 84:6). I know God will not abandon them, and I know He is the great Healer. Oh, Lord, please heal their hearts. Amen.

Dear Samuel

2011-01-21T14:52:00.002-05:00

While we were in Dallas the first week of January, my mom gave me several hours one day to spend how I wished while she played with Caleb and Joel. I spent part of the time at Starbucks writing a letter in my journal to Samuel. When we were seeing Judy, our grief counselor, she suggested that if we ever got pregnant, it would be a healing exercise to write a letter to Samuel about the new baby. So, I did. Here it is:

Dear Samuel,                                                                        January 5, 2011

      Oh, my sweet boy, how I love and miss you. I often wish you were here for me to love on, kiss, hold, get to know, learn what makes you happy and what makes you sad, cuddle you close at bedtime, hear you babble, watch you toddle around, see you wave hello and goodbye, savor every hug, enjoy you watching your brothers play and wrestle, chase you around the house, teach you what not to touch and put in your mouth, and just be with you. I wonder often what you would be like. What would your personality be? Would you be calm and quiet like Caleb? Silly and spirited like Joel? Or completely different from either? Someday I look forward to learning how God wired you, my sweet third son.
      We are in Texas now for Daddy to take a seminary class. We've been to Pennsylvania and Arizona already. I keep thinking how different this trip would have been with you along. We saw June a couple of days ago, and I get lost in thought watching her. I wonder about you as I observe her in life. When she would hug me and bury her head on my shoulder, I would close my eyes and dream of holding you, my sweet, sweet Samuel. She can wave, say a few words, communicate what she wants and doesn't want, and all the while I thought of you. What would you be saying? What would you think of June? Of all our busy travels? I watch Matthew and Ashley keeping up with three kids, and I I wish I was so tired from chasing you through Gab'm's house and rescuing you from whatever danger you've found or from walking with you through the zoo. I wish I didn't yet know this new stage of parenthood with no sippy cups, diapers, pull-ups, or gear when we leave the house. I wish parenting wasn't so easy these days, and I was wrangling my brood of three through these holidays.
      But when I think of you in Heaven, I never un-wish that for you. I know you are perfectly, supremely happy and full and lacking absolutely nothing -- not even me. And I am so glad for you. I couldn't wish more for you than the everything you have.
      The biggest news in our house is that I am pregnant again. Your little brother or sister is growing in my womb. You and this baby would be 23 months apart -- how far apart Caleb and Joel are. I can imagine that if you had lived, we would have been trying for this fourth child as a playmate and friend for you.
      This baby can never replace you, Samuel. You will always be our third child, our precious son. I wish this baby could grow up knowing all three of his or her big brothers. If it's a boy, we will use Samuel as his middle name in honor of wonderful you.
      Sometimes it's hard for me to think of this baby growing where you grew -- where you were safe and protected and your body could depend on me to pump your blood, where your defects didn't really matter. I hope this new baby is as safe and protected as you were in me and that he or she comes out able to breathe and pump blood and live fully in this world. I hope I can watch this new baby grow and think of you all the while and what a gift you will always be to me and your dad.
      It makes me very sad to think our family will never be all together in this life. There will not be a single picture of all of us. Any picture of our new baby will be without you. We will never be a complete family on Earth. How I hope and pray all your siblings trust Jesus, and we can all be together in Heaven.
      Samuel, how I miss you. I wish you could be with us as we hope for this new baby. After you, I know there are no promises for a healthy baby and for life, but I hope for it, and I wish you were here hoping with us.
      Whatever is ahead with this baby, I have learned through losing you that God will be enough to see us through it. He will give us what we need for each day as He gave us what we needed each day of your short life and each day without you.
      I love you, Samuel. I am so glad you're my son. I will treasure you in my heart always, sweet boy. Merry late Christmas in Heaven. I have no doubt it surpassed every conceivable Christmas I can imagine.
      I LOVE YOU, AND I ALWAYS WILL!

                                                        Love,
                                                            Momma

And the Verdict Is...

2011-01-14T22:46:00.000-05:00

We had our appointment today! Phew. We got to see "Tad" for a long time while the sonographer looked at every possible thing. The brain, spine, bones, kidneys, etc all looked good. The one thing they couldn't get a very good look at is the heart. Baby is still quite small and is positioned in a difficult spot for good heart pictures. They didn't see anything to cause concern at this point, but we really won't know any specifics until we see Samuel's pediatric cardiologist in three weeks. I was disappointed to not get more info on the heart, but Bryan saw it as an answer to prayer. He really doesn't want unnecessary speculation and feels like we've been spared the drama of "Well, we'd really like to see ________, but sometimes it just isn't clear yet at this gestational age. We'll look more in a few weeks...." After all the changing diagnoses with Samuel and all the ups and downs of those changes, we are happy to have no news for the time being.

We did find out that we're having a....

GIRL! I am still in shock a little bit. Bryan has predicted a girl from the beginning, but I have resisted believing it. We have boys. And on Bryan's dad's side of the family, in three generations, there have been 17 boys and only 3 girls. The most recent girl is 24 years old! So I kind of figured the odds were against a daughter. However, I am THRILLED that we're having one. I would have been equally thrilled with a boy. I told Bryan that I will be asking at every sonogram if she is still a girl. It's going to take awhile for me to really believe it. I burst into tears when the sonographer told us, and every time I hear Bryan tell a family member on the phone, I start to cry again. I called my mom shortly after the appointment with every intention of telling her myself, and I got as far as, "We're having a..." before I started crying and thrust the phone into Bryan's hands because I couldn't spit it out.

When we got home, we set up a little scavenger hunt for the boys to find out the gender. They traipsed through the house following clues and eventually came to the bathtub where pink balloons were hiding. Their reaction was completely anti-climactic because they were so enamored with the balloons that the girl factor barely phased them. A couple of minutes later, though, they were both beaming and so proud and excited. They're going to be GREAT big brothers to a baby sister. Caleb has wanted a baby sister ever since I can remember. With each pregnancy, he has consistently said he wants a sister. His wish is finally coming true. :)

God was gracious to us today in granting us a lot of peace before the appointment and even an abundance of joy during it, as we waited for news on baby's health. I am sure some of that peace is because many of you were praying for us, and for that I cannot thank you enough. Thank you! We went to dinner tonight to celebrate, and tomorrow we're going to go get some special dessert as a family to celebrate some more. We're thanking God tonight!

17 weeks pregnant

An Upcoming Peek at "Tad"

2011-01-13T16:45:00.001-05:00

I woke up anxious this morning and had a hard time shaking it. I am sure it's because of our upcoming ultrasound when we will get our first peek at baby's heart and an idea if this baby, too, will have a heart defect or other anatomical problems. On top of the uncertainty about the health of this baby is the uncertainty of whether or not I will actually have the appointment. The Atlanta area has been completely snowed and iced in since Sunday night. I have gone no farther than my backyard in four days. Bryan has now ventured out twice for work related things, and both times he has commented on how treacherous the roads are. Not knowing if we'll actually get to see "Tad" (Caleb's nickname for the baby) has compounded the uncertainties and my nervousness.

It's been five weeks since my last appointment, and that time has passed in relative calm and peace. We've been exceedingly busy with travels to Pennsylvania, Arizona, and Texas, and I haven't had a lot of time to dwell on this upcoming appointment -- until being snowed in, that is. Really, until this morning, I haven't been very anxious at all. That's partly because I know there's absolutely nothing I can do about baby's anatomy, partly because I can't possibly speed up the days and learn anything any sooner, partly because I am happy to rest in this time of not knowing when there is no definite problem and my pregnancy is "normal," and mostly because I know God is good and faithful and enough for whatever is ahead.

But today when I think about what the appointment may hold, my stomach knots up, and I feel a little quesy. I can't help but remember how I felt the morning of Samuel's 19 week ultrasound. I woke up completely anxious -- after having experienced no fear about baby's well-being since my 12 week check-up. That morning I was pacing the house I was so nervous, and my heart was pounding out of my chest. I think God was preparing me for what we would learn in a couple of hours. And I can't help but feel some of that now as we get ready for our equivalent appointment with "Tad." The fact that we will likely be navigating icy roads doesn't do anything to help my uneasiness.

But the truth is, it's all in God's good, capable hands. He has not been blind to the formation of this baby as we have been. His hands have been and continue to knit our little one together. He has not made any mistakes as He has shaped and formed our baby. Whatever we learn at our ultrasound will be a glimpse into the life God has planned for our child. And I can rejoice in God's perfect plan, even if it isn't the plan I would design. We may get bad news. But the bottom line is that God will be with us just as He was with us through my pregnancy with Samuel and his birth and life. There is no story too big for God, no pain too deep, no fear too mountainous, no grief too wide. He can hold it all in His hands, and He can and will grant us what we need to walk through whatever is ahead. He IS enough. And I can rest in that even as my stomach churns and my heart races.

When we went to our 12 week ultrasound, we expected to learn something about baby's heart, though that did not end up being the case. That morning I purposefully put on a necklace someone gave to me that says "hope" and has the reference for Psalm 34:17-19 on it. As I encircled my neck with it, I thought to myself, "I am putting on hope and knowing God is with us. I know He is near to the brokenhearted and rescues those who are crushed in spirit." I saw it almost like putting on the full armor of God that Ephesians talks about. The necklace was my reminder that God is my armor, my rescuer, and I can trust in Him. I plan to wear the same necklace when we go to this ultrasound, to remember that I can trust in our good God.

The God who made Samuel and blessed us with his life is also making "Tad." There is no life God could create in my womb that I would not want to love. We will love and cherish any child God grants us, and I look forward to knowing our "Tad" a little better whenever our appointment ends up happening.

Our Second Christmas without Samuel

2011-01-04T17:01:00.001-05:00

I didn't know what to expect as we approached another Christmas without Samuel. I figured it would be easier than last year, and I was right, but I wasn't sure what grief would look like a year and four months after Samuel's death. As we unpacked our Christmas boxes, I was surprised to find Samuel's stocking, and it brought on a wave of grief, as did pulling out all the special things we filled it with last year: letters to Samuel from me and Bryan, symbols of the gifts we gave in Samuel's memory, and memory cards from those who gave in Samuel's name last year. In many ways, seeing that stocking hung from our fire place brought me back to the pain we felt last year, reminded me of how raw last Christmas was and how heartbreaking it was to face a such a momentous first.

But I am so glad we have that stocking, that Samuel remains a part of our family, that we can hang his stocking for us to see and for the boys to see that Samuel still matters to us, we still miss him, he still belongs in our family. We spent an evening as a family looking through the Samaritan's Purse and World Vision catalogs, picking out what gifts to give to others in memory of Samuel and then picking out symbols of those gifts to put in his stocking. Joel chose to give 5 fruit trees to a family in a third world country which will provide them with food and a means of income. Caleb chose to give money to help save the lives of mothers and newborn babies in countries where medical help is limited. We got some play fruit and a tiny baby doll to go in Samuel's stocking as a reminder of this year's gifts. I love that this is a family tradition of ours and a way to continue to honor our Samuel in this life.

It was painful but healing to see ornaments of each of our children as babies hung on our tree -- Caleb as a newborn, Joel as one, and Samuel, too, with all the apparatuses he needed to breathe and live for those 31 days. Looking at Samuel's face almost always made me sad, but it also made me thankful for his life, for how he has changed my life, for the gift of loving him so deeply. I am glad we have an ornament of our precious third son. Again, it affirms his place in our family, no matter how much time goes by.

We have traveled A LOT this Christmas and New Years season -- in fact we are still in the midst of those travels -- and there hasn't felt like a lot of time to sit and simply grieve. At the same time, it's been so wonderful to see and hug so many people we love and to have something to put our energies into that is life-giving. As we have visited many places, it moved me deeply to see our Samuel framed on my sister-in-law, Marta's, wall of family pictures. I am touched that she would love her nephew enough to give him a permanent place on her wall, in the frame of pictures of our family -- a photo of me and Bryan, one of Caleb, one of Joel, and one of Samuel. Most people don't do that, and it blessed me to see that Marta considers Samuel a lasting member of our family. My mom, too, has pictures of Samuel framed in her house, and I love that.

It has also blessed me deeply when the rare family member refers to the baby I am currently carrying as my fourth child, acknowledging Samuel's place as my third. In contrast, it has hurt a surprising amount when someone who knows me and our story unthinkingly calls this new life our third child. It sends a pang right through my heart to think that others don't give Samuel the place we give him -- the place of a son in our family. I am sure my friends all mean well, but I could never forget that I already have a third child, and knowing that others can hurts me, rational or not.

One of the most poignant parts of grief this season has been seeing our precious niece, June, who was born 16 hours after Samuel. I love that child with a fierce love and cannot resist scooping her up and holding her. She is SO big now that I can hardly believe it. She walks everywhere, babbles constantly, says a handful of words, can communicate what she wants (and doesn't want :) ), and gives the world's best hugs. Every time she reached her little arms up at me to be picked up, I wanted to run away with her and keep her forever. And when she would bury her head on my shoulder and throw her arms around my neck, I wanted to cry for joy and sorrow. I cannot believe our Samuel would be so big, would nuzzle down into a hug of his own volition, would smile gleefully for the camera, and would be getting into everything he could get his hands on. It's hard to imagine our lives with a busy 16 month old running around. I am so very grateful for June and for the picture she provides of what Samuel might be up to in Heaven.

I have noticed once again that as more time lapses between my blog entries, I get more and more removed from my "real" life. The weight of grief begins to tug mightily on my heart, and I am more subdued, more tired, more irritable, and more intolerant of the little things of life. It reminds me how important it is to continue to grieve intentionally, to record our journey without Samuel, to acknowledge what I feel and face. Once again, I find that this blog is life-giving and healing, and I find myself grateful for a God who already knows each heartbreak, each hope, each broken expectation, each longing, and that He is a God who can comfort and ultimately heal them all.