So, its been a VERY busy, and heart wrenching last few weeks. We have been dealing with some extended family issues, and its definitely been taking its toll on my stress level!! But through it all, I am trying to remain focused on me. I cannot change others....I can only change myself, and the way I react in situations. I am finding it is better to just LOVE in all things. So thankful for a loving God who loves me, stains and all :)
Now on to my reason for today's post. I was thinking today at how really amazing our God is. I mean, I think that all the time, but I just had one of those WOW kind of moments. He picked me to be the mother of Blake and Zoey long before he picked my mom to be my grandma's daughter and on and on. He knew the difficulties I would face, and he knew that I would have a loving, generous man to face it with. However, what really got me today is God's sense of humor!!
Yes, you read that right. I am, and always have been a spontaneous, fly by the seat of my pants, procrastinator. And I certainly cannot be the only one out there!! But the reason why this is so extremely funny, is because God placed two people whom I love with all my heart in my life who are the EXACT opposite....I call them strategically rigid. (I am so coining that phrase!!) They are my husband, and my son.
And this makes for a very....interesting....home life. I am still trying to figure out how to be more structural for my son's sake. I was never too worried about Kevin....he loved me stains and all just like God does. I have shown him the Dark Side, and he likes it....sometimes. But Blake, even though he loves Star Wars, not so fond of the Dark Side. He likes the side with lots of rules and lights and everything in a straight line. He'd make a really good Yoda.....
So every day, I try to bend him to my way, and every day we battle, because when I think I have prepared him enough, given him enough structure, he proves to me that its just not enough. This little game we play is often time consuming and miserable. But there are times, like now, when I can sit and see the humor in it all.
Touche God.....touche.
3/12/13
Why an elevator can cause a domino effect.....
I am laying in bed tonight and can't sleep. I have a knot in my stomach from an incidence earlier tonight with Blake, and as I lay here tonight thinking back on things, I see where we went wrong. Where as parents, we failed our child. And it's literally gut wrenching.
We asked a lot out of him tonight. And in return, we got a melt down. A bad one....one which left Kevin and I feeling like the worst parents of the year.
When I picked Blake up from school today, I immediately began discussing the evening's schedule with him, cause it was a doozy. First, I told him we would be going to pick Zoey up from school, then home to wait for daddy to get home. When daddy got home, we would head to McDonald's for an early dinner (there was a fundraiser for Zoeys school there tonight). After McDonald's, it was off to Zoey's dance class. An hour long event...an event where the last time we tried this for just a few minutes, Blake ran screaming through the halls and tried to run into the dance studios. Then after dance class, we would head to the hospital to visit Kevin's dad who had been admitted earlier. He seemed fine with it all, and I even asked him to repeat everything back to me. He nailed it! I knew he was comfortable because he could foresee the events and we could talk him through the night.
It all actually went very well, until the end of the night. Blake sat and played the iPad with Kevin during Zoeys dance class, while I sat in and observed. He was accepting of entering the hospital, and even did well with two elevator rides and winding corridors. He sat with his poppy and watched cartoons and then, he was done, and we left. We walked to the elevators. A door was opening. We walked on, while Blake stood screaming about the other door. The kind ladies laughed and held the door for us. Kevin finally dragged him onto the elevator and he laid in the floor until the door opened. He ran ahead of us down the hallway, obviously mad. When we got to the parking garage, and the next set of elevators, again the door opened, someone was holding it for us while Blake screamed about the other door. This lady, was not so understanding, and asked us his age, and then sneered that sneer I have seen one too many times, as if to say, get a grip on your child. Feeling defeated, we all left the elevator and Blake protested. We started to walk towards the car, and he came running out not concerned with the oncoming car. Kevin carried him to our van, and tried getting him in his seat. He screamed, kicked, threw things at us, and finally I forced him into his seat. My patience was gone, and I just wanted a cooperative kid who sat silently in his seat. Instead I had a screaming, thrashing boy who I lost my temper with. It wasn't pretty. And then Blake started crying for his Boo-boo...a small square blanket with a puppy head that rattles. It's his thing...his safety net....his thing that tells him everything is alright with the world even though his insides are churning. As I climbed in behind the wheel, my heart ached for him. I knew something was off, and it was more than him just not getting his way. But I didn't understand.
Later, as I looked back over the events, when I was calm, and my head was clear, I had a moment...like in those cartoons when the character has a light bulb over their head. It was so simple really, but I hadn't taken the moment to think about it. Blake likes familiarity. And when we were leaving, he couldn't tell us why, but he insisted we ride the over "door". The same "door" (elevator) we rode when we arrived, but it didn't hit me then. On the way out, it was two different doors...unfamiliar....scary. I had just assumed it was Blake being stubborn. It wasn't. It was Blake trying to comfort himself the way he knew how and I didn't understand.
I miss the boat so many times with him. Just when I think we are managing just fine, he throws another curveball my way. I just wish it was easier. That I could bring him comfort and safety some way.
Moments like that drain me in every way possible. I just pray that one day we can both understand each others worlds enough to make it through without emotions like these.
Jenn
We asked a lot out of him tonight. And in return, we got a melt down. A bad one....one which left Kevin and I feeling like the worst parents of the year.
When I picked Blake up from school today, I immediately began discussing the evening's schedule with him, cause it was a doozy. First, I told him we would be going to pick Zoey up from school, then home to wait for daddy to get home. When daddy got home, we would head to McDonald's for an early dinner (there was a fundraiser for Zoeys school there tonight). After McDonald's, it was off to Zoey's dance class. An hour long event...an event where the last time we tried this for just a few minutes, Blake ran screaming through the halls and tried to run into the dance studios. Then after dance class, we would head to the hospital to visit Kevin's dad who had been admitted earlier. He seemed fine with it all, and I even asked him to repeat everything back to me. He nailed it! I knew he was comfortable because he could foresee the events and we could talk him through the night.
It all actually went very well, until the end of the night. Blake sat and played the iPad with Kevin during Zoeys dance class, while I sat in and observed. He was accepting of entering the hospital, and even did well with two elevator rides and winding corridors. He sat with his poppy and watched cartoons and then, he was done, and we left. We walked to the elevators. A door was opening. We walked on, while Blake stood screaming about the other door. The kind ladies laughed and held the door for us. Kevin finally dragged him onto the elevator and he laid in the floor until the door opened. He ran ahead of us down the hallway, obviously mad. When we got to the parking garage, and the next set of elevators, again the door opened, someone was holding it for us while Blake screamed about the other door. This lady, was not so understanding, and asked us his age, and then sneered that sneer I have seen one too many times, as if to say, get a grip on your child. Feeling defeated, we all left the elevator and Blake protested. We started to walk towards the car, and he came running out not concerned with the oncoming car. Kevin carried him to our van, and tried getting him in his seat. He screamed, kicked, threw things at us, and finally I forced him into his seat. My patience was gone, and I just wanted a cooperative kid who sat silently in his seat. Instead I had a screaming, thrashing boy who I lost my temper with. It wasn't pretty. And then Blake started crying for his Boo-boo...a small square blanket with a puppy head that rattles. It's his thing...his safety net....his thing that tells him everything is alright with the world even though his insides are churning. As I climbed in behind the wheel, my heart ached for him. I knew something was off, and it was more than him just not getting his way. But I didn't understand.
Later, as I looked back over the events, when I was calm, and my head was clear, I had a moment...like in those cartoons when the character has a light bulb over their head. It was so simple really, but I hadn't taken the moment to think about it. Blake likes familiarity. And when we were leaving, he couldn't tell us why, but he insisted we ride the over "door". The same "door" (elevator) we rode when we arrived, but it didn't hit me then. On the way out, it was two different doors...unfamiliar....scary. I had just assumed it was Blake being stubborn. It wasn't. It was Blake trying to comfort himself the way he knew how and I didn't understand.
I miss the boat so many times with him. Just when I think we are managing just fine, he throws another curveball my way. I just wish it was easier. That I could bring him comfort and safety some way.
Moments like that drain me in every way possible. I just pray that one day we can both understand each others worlds enough to make it through without emotions like these.
Jenn
3/11/13
Confession Time!!
WOW!! That felt good to get that off my chest :) So, let's hear it...what's your confession?????
Jenn
3/6/13
Monday, November 14, 2005
Zoey Makenna Thomas, my firstborn, my little angel, my 7 year old sweetheart. This is the story of how she came into our world.
When Zoey was conceived, Kevin was a SSgt in the United States Air Force. We were living in a two bedroom townhouse on Scott Air Force Base. I was working for a real estate company, and we had been married for 9 months. We were both really excited and could not wait to start our family.
Everything was going along great with my pregnancy. I was super sick for the first month and a half, and couldn't keep anything down. I remember being in the car on the way to work and just praying that I would make it there in time to avoid puking in my car. Then we had the 20 week ultrasound. "It's a girl!" we were told. "See the hamburger?" Yes, that's how we were told that our firstborn was a girl. But then, the tech seemed to be taking her time, making more measurements, squinting her eyes. Panic set in. And we left.
At the next appointment, we discussed the results of the ultrasound, and that's when we found out that our daughter had a condition called Hydronephrosis. Basically, one of her kidneys was larger than the other and had fluid in it. The doctor explained that it was nothing to worry about and that she could outgrow it, but that we should have regular ultrasounds for the remainder of the pregnancy and a follow-up ultrasound after she was born to check the dilation. And even though the doctor had said not to worry, I immediately did. Regardless of the extremity of the condition, I had just found out that my daughter could suffer outside of the womb.
After continued ultrasound monitoring (which ended up being a blessing because I was able to see my baby 3 more times before she was born), we were told that there was no change, which was a good thing. I felt relieved and was finally able to stop worrying about her.
I visited labor and delivery several times the week leading up to her birth....all times for contractions that were leading nowhere. I know now, that those contractions were NOTHING!! Then, on a Sunday evening, my contractions began to pick up their intensity and frequency. I was 38 weeks and 6 days. By midnight, after hours of contractions, and my wonderful husband's tricks to try and help ease my pain, I was ready to head to the hospital. Contractions were roughly 5 minutes apart, and radiating from my back around. Back labor...yay me!!
When I got settled in my room, and they checked me, we received the glorious news that I had progressed to 5 cm and that we would be having the baby soon!! I got up and walked the halls, and swayed around my room. By the time I reached 7 cm, the tears were flowing, and the inevitable, it's now or never opportunity came for the epidural. I was scared, and my husband and mom both convinced me that I was worn out and could use the relief, since 8 hours and passed and I was still several more away. The epidural needle petrified me, but in the end, it was extremely bearable. Within minutes, I was snoozing. A few hours later, the nurses came in to tell me that my labor was slowing down (a side effect of the epidural) and that they needed to give me a drug called pitocin to speed the contractions back up. They also explained that during a contraction, the baby's heart rate would slow down and they needed to use an internal fetal monitor. Everything was happening all at once, and I felt like I was loosing control. I rested some more, and they came in and told me that it was finally time to push.
I pushed, and pushed, and pushed, for over two hours, without any progress. No one was telling me much of anything other than she was positioned wrong and wouldn't descend. The doctor came in and told me that if she didn't come out soon, they would have to take me for an emergency c-section because she was loosing oxygen. In a last ditch effort, the doctor came in and hooked up the vacuum extractor to help me with pushing. The first push, the vacuum popped off Zoey's head. And the second....however, the second time was much worse than the first, and there was a lot of blood. The third, and final time the vacuum was used, we were able to get her out.
I didn't see her, there was no crying. She was rushed to an incubator across the room and 5 people (or more) swarmed around her. Minutes later she was rolled out of the room. I hadn't held my daughter. I hadn't even seen her. My husband looked worried. My mother was in a chair with her head in her hands. I was told that i had been given a partial episiotomy and had torn the rest of the way and that they would need to repair the damage. So, as I lay there, helpless, no one was saying anything about our daughter.
I remember getting up off the table to go take a shower, and halfway to the bathroom I collapsed on the floor. I was weak. I couldn't walk. It was then that I found out that I had lost a lot of blood, and would need to rest and use a wheelchair until my blood supply was regained. While I was in the shower, a nurse came to get my mom and Kevin to take them to Zoey. We still knew nothing except she was in the NICU, and my mom saw her when she was born and she was blue. I couldn't see her yet. I was so messed up on the inside, and my heart ached.
When they got me to my recovery room, my mom and Kevin came back and explained to me that Zoey was on 100% oxygen. She wasn't breathing on her own. She also had a hemotoma on her head the size of a softball. When the vacuum popped off her head, it tore off part of her scalp and caused a fluid filled sac to form. There was worry of brain damage and impairments. They both looked defeated. I was crushed. I did the only thing I could do, and from deep inside my heart, I cried out to God.
When I was finally able to be wheeled down to the NICU, I was so excited to see her. Friends of mine had come and gone, and they had seen my daughter before me. I was not prepared for what I would see, or that I wouldn't be able to hold her. I felt like there was nothing I could do. So I sat there and just watched her.
The next 24 hours were torture, but when they finally took her off the oxygen, and I was able to hold her, it was the most amazing experience. I was still in a lot of pain, but I sat there just holding her as long as I could. We were told that the worst was over, and I realized that this little 8 lb 5 oz bundle of joy was my little miracle. God had answered my prayers, and had completely healed my baby girl.
We have many baby pictures which show Zoey's scar on her head....a reminder to us how God saved our little girl. And now, 7 years and 3 months later, she is still my little miracle. She amazes me every day of her life. God saved her for a very, very special purpose....to save my soul. I can't wait to see what else he has in store for her :)
Jenn-one proud mama
When Zoey was conceived, Kevin was a SSgt in the United States Air Force. We were living in a two bedroom townhouse on Scott Air Force Base. I was working for a real estate company, and we had been married for 9 months. We were both really excited and could not wait to start our family.
Everything was going along great with my pregnancy. I was super sick for the first month and a half, and couldn't keep anything down. I remember being in the car on the way to work and just praying that I would make it there in time to avoid puking in my car. Then we had the 20 week ultrasound. "It's a girl!" we were told. "See the hamburger?" Yes, that's how we were told that our firstborn was a girl. But then, the tech seemed to be taking her time, making more measurements, squinting her eyes. Panic set in. And we left.
At the next appointment, we discussed the results of the ultrasound, and that's when we found out that our daughter had a condition called Hydronephrosis. Basically, one of her kidneys was larger than the other and had fluid in it. The doctor explained that it was nothing to worry about and that she could outgrow it, but that we should have regular ultrasounds for the remainder of the pregnancy and a follow-up ultrasound after she was born to check the dilation. And even though the doctor had said not to worry, I immediately did. Regardless of the extremity of the condition, I had just found out that my daughter could suffer outside of the womb.
After continued ultrasound monitoring (which ended up being a blessing because I was able to see my baby 3 more times before she was born), we were told that there was no change, which was a good thing. I felt relieved and was finally able to stop worrying about her.
I visited labor and delivery several times the week leading up to her birth....all times for contractions that were leading nowhere. I know now, that those contractions were NOTHING!! Then, on a Sunday evening, my contractions began to pick up their intensity and frequency. I was 38 weeks and 6 days. By midnight, after hours of contractions, and my wonderful husband's tricks to try and help ease my pain, I was ready to head to the hospital. Contractions were roughly 5 minutes apart, and radiating from my back around. Back labor...yay me!!
When I got settled in my room, and they checked me, we received the glorious news that I had progressed to 5 cm and that we would be having the baby soon!! I got up and walked the halls, and swayed around my room. By the time I reached 7 cm, the tears were flowing, and the inevitable, it's now or never opportunity came for the epidural. I was scared, and my husband and mom both convinced me that I was worn out and could use the relief, since 8 hours and passed and I was still several more away. The epidural needle petrified me, but in the end, it was extremely bearable. Within minutes, I was snoozing. A few hours later, the nurses came in to tell me that my labor was slowing down (a side effect of the epidural) and that they needed to give me a drug called pitocin to speed the contractions back up. They also explained that during a contraction, the baby's heart rate would slow down and they needed to use an internal fetal monitor. Everything was happening all at once, and I felt like I was loosing control. I rested some more, and they came in and told me that it was finally time to push.
I pushed, and pushed, and pushed, for over two hours, without any progress. No one was telling me much of anything other than she was positioned wrong and wouldn't descend. The doctor came in and told me that if she didn't come out soon, they would have to take me for an emergency c-section because she was loosing oxygen. In a last ditch effort, the doctor came in and hooked up the vacuum extractor to help me with pushing. The first push, the vacuum popped off Zoey's head. And the second....however, the second time was much worse than the first, and there was a lot of blood. The third, and final time the vacuum was used, we were able to get her out.
I didn't see her, there was no crying. She was rushed to an incubator across the room and 5 people (or more) swarmed around her. Minutes later she was rolled out of the room. I hadn't held my daughter. I hadn't even seen her. My husband looked worried. My mother was in a chair with her head in her hands. I was told that i had been given a partial episiotomy and had torn the rest of the way and that they would need to repair the damage. So, as I lay there, helpless, no one was saying anything about our daughter.
I remember getting up off the table to go take a shower, and halfway to the bathroom I collapsed on the floor. I was weak. I couldn't walk. It was then that I found out that I had lost a lot of blood, and would need to rest and use a wheelchair until my blood supply was regained. While I was in the shower, a nurse came to get my mom and Kevin to take them to Zoey. We still knew nothing except she was in the NICU, and my mom saw her when she was born and she was blue. I couldn't see her yet. I was so messed up on the inside, and my heart ached.
When they got me to my recovery room, my mom and Kevin came back and explained to me that Zoey was on 100% oxygen. She wasn't breathing on her own. She also had a hemotoma on her head the size of a softball. When the vacuum popped off her head, it tore off part of her scalp and caused a fluid filled sac to form. There was worry of brain damage and impairments. They both looked defeated. I was crushed. I did the only thing I could do, and from deep inside my heart, I cried out to God.
When I was finally able to be wheeled down to the NICU, I was so excited to see her. Friends of mine had come and gone, and they had seen my daughter before me. I was not prepared for what I would see, or that I wouldn't be able to hold her. I felt like there was nothing I could do. So I sat there and just watched her.
The next 24 hours were torture, but when they finally took her off the oxygen, and I was able to hold her, it was the most amazing experience. I was still in a lot of pain, but I sat there just holding her as long as I could. We were told that the worst was over, and I realized that this little 8 lb 5 oz bundle of joy was my little miracle. God had answered my prayers, and had completely healed my baby girl.
We have many baby pictures which show Zoey's scar on her head....a reminder to us how God saved our little girl. And now, 7 years and 3 months later, she is still my little miracle. She amazes me every day of her life. God saved her for a very, very special purpose....to save my soul. I can't wait to see what else he has in store for her :)
Jenn-one proud mama
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