And Now...The Rest Of The Story

Edyn and Cayde, holding Declyn as a newborn, in 2009.

All three, much bigger, riding a turtle sculpture,
last fall.

While Ella has been the focus of my recent posts, she's only the most recent addition to our family. It would be inaccurate to tell only her part of the story. When I was first put on bed rest, it was like a call to arms. With an army of adults rushing to our aide, Edyn, Cayde and Declyn had a daily decision to make: to join or not join. Most of the time it was at least two out of three, but not always the same two.
The kids all knew that Ella was coming, that she was a "she" and that we would be expecting her in February. So, it has been difficult to explain concepts like hypertension, bed rest, premature delivery, etc. They are very smart, though, and capable of rolling with the punches most of the time. It never quite sunk in that I wasn't supposed to be up, getting snacks, checking their chores, tucking them in... I often felt like I was hurting their feelings by saying "No, I can't do that, but you can ask_________." Declyn seemed to adapt better in the beginning, though. He loves to cuddle with me and loved to rub my pregnant belly and talk to Baby Ella. He continued to do this, almost like he was happy to take whatever he could get. Edyn, my oldest and a classic first child, was eager to jump in with things she thought were fun, like making dinner with Uncle Marc and helping with Declyn. However, like any normal 8 year old going on 15, she realized that other not-so-exciting-tasks needed to be done, like dishes and laundry. Cayde pretty much acted like nothing had changed. Things went on almost without interruption, until I was admitted into the hospital. Then, with my husband at my side, my brother truly took over as the full time caregiver. Marc brought them up to the hospital the first night, so they could see me and I could try to explain what was happening. It was hard for all of us. I wanted to show them that I was fine and reassure them about Ella. Declyn had been with us all day, so he was getting testy. Edyn had questions that seemed beyond her years, specifically about my blood pressure and the baby. Cayde cried. Remember, he's the one that acted like nothing had changed. He's also the most sensitive of them all. My Cayde is this loud, funny, rough-and-tumble boy, but he's also the one that feels everything the deepest. You just wouldn't know it until he opens up. I held him and told him it would be alright. Then, my Mom took them home to bed. So, we were in a holding pattern until Ella was born. I saw the kids every other day. We filled the gap by talking on the phone, and at nap and bedtimes, I got a special phone call from Declyn, so that I could sing his good night songs.
When the news that Ella was born reached the kids, it was very anticlimactic, because they weren't able to see her. The baby sister that Edyn has been dreaming about, that Cayde has been curious to see, that Declyn has been talking to, the full size baby that we were to meet in February, came out too small and early. We had her 6 days before Christmas, but it was like a big Christmas surprise that no one could open. The kids couldn't even look at her through a window, because she was in NICU. We showed them pictures, but it's hard for a kid to get excited about a picture. In the mean time, I was finally discharged home. Things were far from back to normal. With twice a day trips to the hospital that, because of gas consumption, turned into me spending seven hours a day gone, it's like not being home. I leave mid-morning and get home just before dinner. The kids have taken it all in stride and, at least now, I can tuck them in at night. A week ago, I was allowed to take Edyn with me for a visit. We dubbed it our first girls' night with Ella, since my husband and the other boys stayed home. Edyn was so fascinated by her, touching her little hands and asking questions. Then, I took Edyn for a frosty and fries. It was nice to have some time alone with her. I know it was good for us both. Edyn finally got excited about her new sister.
Cayde broke my heart by telling my brother that he was sure he wouldn't be allowed to touch Ella because everyone kept telling him to settle down and be gentle while I was pregnant. So, I took him aside and told him how important he would be as an older brother and protector. I explained that in the beginning we would have to be very gentle, the way we are with eggs so we don't crack the shells. A little light bulb went on and I think he's a bit less apprehensive about this tiny thing coming home. He wasn't happy about Edyn going with me to meet Ella without him, but I told him he was just too young.
Declyn still tells me he loves my belly! It's funny, because my belly is shrinking. One day last week, though, he was looking at my belly and asked to see my "boo-boo" (we showed the kids my incision). When I showed him my now healing scar, he asked again what happened. I explained that the boo-boo was how we were able to get Ella out. He became very offended and demanded to know why we took her out. My husband and I made eye contact across the room, then we very gently explained that I was sick and Ella needed to come early. Then we reminded him that she was too little to come home, that she would stay at the hospital until she ate enough to get bigger. He accepted this explanation, as he accepts almost everything we tell him. Thank you, Jesus! He's at the age now where he will accept most anything we tell him as the final word.
Thankfully, throughout most of this experience, Rich has been off of work. Once I came home, he was able to resume full-time parenting and things at home came closer to routine. We are about to lose him to work, this next Monday. Edyn and Cayde will be back at school tomorrow, so that leaves Declyn and me. We will have to do some creative scheduling starting next week. I'm sure it will involve Uncle Mom again. The only thing of which we can be certain: this is all temporary. We will get back to normal, or rather, the new normal, where we are truly a family of six.

Stranger In A Strange World

Ella's nurse, Dora, trying to get a Christmas picture for us.
That's her thumb in the lower left corner!

A better look at her Christmas outfit, with Dora
holding and me behind the camera.

Ella today, with bright eyes and pretty jammies.

My daughter, who is now at a gestational age of 34 weeks and 3 days, or 10 days old, is handling things much better than I. In fact, Ella hasn't met a challenge she couldn't overcome. She is now 3lbs 9.6oz, which is almost 5oz past her birth weight. In just over a week, that's a lot. I am thrilled by her progress. Every day it seems that she has developed more; her eyelashes came in, her cheeks are filling out, her forehead wrinkles, her thighs are no longer stick thin. She is literally growing before our eyes! Because she would be sleeping and fattening up if she were still in utero, it is important to stick as closely to that environment as possible. In order to do this, she spends roughly 22 hours of her day in a heated, clear, plastic box, sleeping on what looks a bit like a nest. It's a pad with the head slightly elevated and this nice little bumper around her, holding her snugly in place, somewhat like when she was in my belly. She has a tiny little tube, called a nasogastric or NG tube, inserted in her nose that goes into her stomach. This is how she is fed every three hours, except for once a day when we give her a bottle. When she is able to finish a bottle without any difficulty, we will go to two, then three bottle feedings per day. Once she masters the three bottles, we will attempt nursing. Everything is very carefully planned out by the pediatrician and nurses in the NICU. I learn something new every day. I get to go to the hospital each day at 11am and 5pm to hold her for about an hour during her meal time. These are the few moments for which I live, just to breathe her in and touch her tiny hands.

It's the rest of my 22 hours that are a struggle. I'm about to be brutally honest, because I'm hoping that to get it on record might be therapeutic, but also in case anyone has a similar experience. Ella was taken by c-section. The correct terminology is "delivered" but it truly feels like she was taken. In my head, I know it was medically necessary and the best thing for both of us. My heart isn't completely on board. In the short time since she was born, I have lost my baby bump, almost completely. This may sound like a good thing, because what is the big goal for most moms with new babies? Losing the baby weight! Under normal circumstances, you would not hear me complain. Somehow it feels wrong, though, to not even look like I had a baby, to bear almost no physical evidence of her. On the under side of my wrist, where the I.V. was secured with tape, there is still a dark smudge of adhesive. I started to scrub it off, but it again feels like erasing signs of my experience. I am planning to nurse, and thankfully, I am having no problem in that area. I have to pump several times a day, then take the milk to the NICU for Ella's feedings. It's not normal to get up late at night to feed a pump. I do it for her. I'm thankful to do it. It's just that none of this feels normal.
I don't feel normal. I'm missing something. I have this really large hole in my heart, that can only begin to heal when I get my girl home. I'm not saying I cry all the time, although on days 7 and 8, I cried several times, without any real prompting. My husband was very understanding, stopped asking if I was OK and just hugged me. I awoke yesterday and felt much better. Then half way through the day, I felt guilty for feeling better. It doesn't make sense, but it was how I felt. My mother, my husband, my pastor's wife, even my doctor, have all told me that to cry is normal. That in our current situation, having gone through what we have, it would be more concerning if I was unaffected. That gives me momentary comfort. My crying is apparently the only normal thing about this situation. It isn't normal for a baby to breathe air at 33 weeks. It isn't normal for her to be in a little box instead of safely inside me. It isn't normal for her to be safer in that box than she was inside me. I am so very thankful that she's doing well, that we live in a place with such a wonderful hospital, that they were fully equipped to care for both of us. I don't want to sound depressed or ungrateful. I just feel so strange. I think that it's good, though, to feel strange. I think that when one's missing a child, strange is normal. And I think that the world will seem strange to me until I can hold her for more than an hour, and kiss her face, and hug her to my breast, and sing her to sleep.
I have stood on my faith in God and His unfailing love from the first day of this adventure. Though now, more than ever, I am falling on His grace and finding peace in His arms, until I feel less strange.

My Daughter, The Prizefighter

This is Tuesday night, the first time I was allowed to hold her.

She is breathing on her own, assisted only by a small cannula of oxygen in her nose.

Ellowyn is a truly remarkable young lady, at only 3 days old. On the first day, she came out swinging, or rather, kicking and screaming. On the first day, she was off of the C-pap (a forced-air mask to remind her to breathe) and wearing only a nasal cannula, which you see in the picture. On day two, we were able to start feeding her breast milk. We did attempt to feed her by mouth, but that is something we will keep trying over the next two weeks, while her swallow reflex develops. The bright side is, though, that she is still taking in, and tolerating the breast milk through her gastric tube. This is the BEST thing for her right now. Last night, over night, she was weened off the oxygen, so that today, she is breathing room air! She's spunky and feisty and I love it! Often in my life, people have tried to tell me what I couldn't do, and it really served only as  motivation. My daughter is the same. She won't be told that she has limitations. She won't sit quietly and accept what is handed out. Her nurse in the NICU told us she gets angry when they have to mess with her or move her around. I love it! That strength and fight is why she's going to keep surprising the people around her and why we'll have her home in record time. I am so honored to be part of her life. I'm so thankful that God entrusted her care with our family.

Welcome To The World!

Please, allow me to introduce Ellowyn Bryanne Jones, born at 12:45pm today, at 3 lb 5 oz and only 14.5 inches long. I know you can't see her face, but trust me...she's beautiful! At 33 weeks, we had a team of the best doctors and nurses and respiratory therapist all anxiously awaiting her, ready to intervene and help her take her first breath. They didn't get the chance. She cried the second Dr. Jones pulled her out. I could hear the surprise in his voice. She has refused to fall in with any statistics from day one, fighting every challenge and still exceeding expectations. She is now, in NICU, not in an incubator and not on a ventilator, but in a normal nursery bed with a heater, wearing a C-PAP, just to remind her to breathe. Praise God!

That Moment When You Know the Cake is Done, Before the Timer Goes Off

Watching the morning news...I never do that, but it's  passing the time.

That's what we're waiting for...for those of you who bake by instinct, like me, you understand exactly what I mean. I last wrote to you from my couch, where I'd been ordered to stay until further notice. Since then, a lot has happened very quickly. I was a good girl for three weeks, laying down most of the time while everyone in my family tried to fill in for me. I must say that I'm so overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and the unhesitating manner in which my family rose to the challenge. When I asked my younger brother if he could come help and play Uncle Mom, he never once complained or acted as if he had anything else he's rather be doing. My Mom worked all day and then came straight over to help in the evenings while my husband was working, and backing up my brother.
So, that went on for almost a month, which is hard to believe in hindsight, as it went by so quickly. Then, my husband brought me in for an ultrasound and to update my doctor on how the bed rest was working to bring my blood pressure down. We sat in the dimly lit ultrasound room, chatting pleasantly with the technician doing the exam. She seemed to get more focused and quiet, then she said that the Radiologist would be in as soon as he looked at the pictures. I had a feeling...Then our wonderful radiologist came in to complete the exam, as usual. He is always so warm and funny, more like a good friend than a doctor. He's cared for us at every opportunity since my first pregnancy. He wasn't his usual, perky self. He started to explain the concerns and risks of my hypertension and that things didn't look like we wanted them to at this point. Ella is only a little over 3lbs, which is in 12th percentile for 32 weeks. He also said it looked as though the umbilical cord and placenta seemed compromised. I am paraphrasing, but basically, my whole body, including the part directly linked to Ellowyn's care and development, is over stressed. The immediate question became how much longer the baby was safer on the inside than she would be if we deliver by cesarean section.
The concerns of having a premature baby at 32 weeks are these: her lungs may not be fully developed, or prepared for the involuntary act of breathing as needed, she may not be prepared to eat by mouth or to swallow safely and she is literally skin and bones, without any subcutaneous fat layers to help her maintain her body heat. At least, those were the concerns on Wednesday, when this all swung into motion.
I was ordered to the hospital so that we could both be monitored. I have been given two steroid injections that are supposed to increase the surfactant on Ella's lungs, so that she'll be better able to breathe outside the womb. The ideal is to give at least 24 hours for the second dose to kick and start working. Friday at 4pm was that 24 hour mark. As of Thursday morning, Doctor Jones was not sure we would be able to wait that long. It's now Saturday, and praise the Lord, Ella is 32 weeks and 5 days. It doesn't sound like a big difference, but I'm told that every day she stays in my belly, is two days less she may need to stay in NICU.
We are just watching and waiting. My blood pressure has been up and down, but so far it hasn't hit the scary, "lets go to the O.R." mark and the baby is strong and her heart is beating loudly, telling everyone who enters the room that she's fine and feisty!
So, back to my title, I'm sitting in a hospital bed, with 8 days left until Christmas, waiting for the doctors to get the feeling that it's time. There is a tiny chance that, if my pressure would stabilize, I could even go home for Christmas, still pregnant! All your prayers are appreciated. We are at peace, knowing that every good thing comes from the Lord and that he is guiding every decision made on our behalf. Merry Christmas!!

Been Too Gone, For Too Long

Ellowyn Bryanne at 20 weeks.

So sorry that I haven't posted in awhile. I have been dealing with, or I should say, we as a family, have been dealing with some new challenges. The first, and now the least of these, was a broken oven. It broke 6 days before Thanksgiving. Because of warranty issues and the joy of having people who are not inconvenienced with a broken oven in charge of when and how the oven was replaced, we didn't get a new oven until late on Monday after Thanksgiving. Here's the funniest part...I haven't been able to use it yet. On that same Monday, I went to my OB doctor for a follow-up, since my blood pressure had been creeping higher over the past month. We had already tried two different medications and increased doses, to no avail. So, I came home from the doctor's office with a strict bed rest order and a threat of hospital admission if that didn't work. I'm very blessed because my family has rallied around and come to my rescue. I have a brother who travels with his job, but thankfully is off for a few months over the holidays. He has been so gracious as to come play Uncle-Mom and corral my children and help with dinners several days a week. My mom has been coming over after working all day to help until the kids get to bed. My husband has been working full-time, then on his days off, playing full-time Mr. Mom. My sister has been driving the kids to school. It's truly a family affair at my house these days, with me sitting on the couch, pretending to still be in charge.
Now, for those of you who are mothers, whether you work outside of your home or you are a full-time homemaker, I know you can understand how many simple tasks you perform, automatically, for your family that make the day easier. Or, if you're like me, you may not understand until you suddenly have to stop. I have sometimes thought of how much I could do with my time once the children are in school and I had my day to myself. I now realize that, even if at a sometimes leisurely pace, I still got a lot done everyday. Now, I sit around wondering if the kids have enough clean clothes for the week, if my husband has packed enough food for his lunch at work, has anyone fed the dogs, etc. Everyone is working so hard to fill in, but it's hard to explain every detail of my routine when I do it often without a second thought.
Well, as of this Monday, I'm 31 weeks along. So only 8-9 weeks to go, which sounds like an eternity. I am so grateful, though, for my doctor and my family. I'm also using this as a time to walk (figuratively) in faith, or as my pastor's wife put it, "Instead of leaning on Jesus, you need to lay on Jesus."
Truer words were never spoken, since I have to lay on my left side for the majority of the time. The praise report is, after a week and a half of bed rest and medication cocktail, my blood pressure has been normal again and so far, Baby Ella seems completely oblivious to my body's rebellion. Thank God, she is growing normally and very lively. In fact, she seems more active now that I'm less active. I wonder if she was being rocked to sleep while I ran around every day and now she's awake more often. I have more time to wonder these days.

Real World Lessons In The Not-So-Real World Of My Eight Year Old



Courtesy of clipartof.com

In the past, we have tried several different incentive programs with our kids. We have required them to perform daily chores since they were 4 years old. Now, as they are getting older, we have decided to put them on the payroll, so to speak. My husband and I fell that they are at the perfect age now, having a firm grasp on their basic math skills, to learn about tithes and offering, as well as the value of the hard-earned dollar. Contrary to our many efforts to ground them and teach them that money doesn't grow on trees and to be good stewards of their belongings, they still seem to take for granted any treats or gifts. So, time for a wake-up call.

This is the first week in which they will be earning a daily wage for their well completed tasks. Seeing dollar signs and already making a mental list of all the things she would be buying with her giant paycheck, my daughter came to me to ask how much they would be earn and when they would see the money. I explained what we would pay them each week for a job well done. This made her jump up and down with excitement. I then explained how they could expect to be paid biweekly, just like a real job. Immediately, her shoulders slumped, she stomped to the couch and threw herself down. "You said we would start getting paid this week!" she grumped at me. "I meant it. You will begin earning wages this week. You will not be paid, though, until pay day. This is how it works in any job, so you can learn it now." I replied. She did not like this answer. I reminded her that in our home, its not just the task at hand, but the attitude with which the task is carried out. I've told both the older kids that it is very important to do everything as though doing it for Jesus. I told them that if they always try to please Jesus with their thought, words and actions, they will always be rewarded for their efforts. It reigns true, in most jobs, if you are surly and hateful while at work, your evaluations will not go well and some times you will not remain in that job. It is difficult not to laugh, though, when they get so frustrated over silly little things, like not wanting to do the dishes. It's such a small moment in the vast expanse of a lifetime, that it seems ridiculous to throw a fit about it.

Hopefully, if our encouraging them to keep a good attitude hasn't really worked every time in the past, money talks! Maybe when they don't get paid as much as they were expecting, they will be more motivated to try harder and stop sweating the small stuff. I am an eternal optimist!

Mama Bear Syndrome: The Fierce and Unrelenting Need to Protect Your Children

Because we are a "blended family" (the newer, nicer way to refer to what used to be called dysfunctional family), I have the pleasure, or rather, the challenge of trying to keep the peace between my husband and the birth mother of my two oldest children. With all due respect to her, she has had many challenges of her own and has many times, over the course of our four years of being a family, been less than reliable (to put it nicely). Unfortunately, our views of what is appropriate when it comes to diet and t.v. viewing are often at odds with hers. The upside to this is that, because the children live with us full time, this is not a concern we have to deal with more than once or twice a month. Another down side that we've found, though, is that a lot of damage can be done in one over night visit.
Our oldest son, who will be 7 in October, has always been a good sleeper until recently. Over the summer, he has been crawling into bed with our daughter, 8, almost every night. We have tried everything to keep him in his bed all night. It seems to be getting worse, though, to the point that, minutes after he is tucked in, he's gotten his favorite pillow, blanket, and doggie and is sneaking across the hall. I had to put him in bed 5 times last night. I finally asked him if there was some reason that he refused to stay in bed lately. This is not the first such conversation, but he usually give me a shrug and an "I dunno." I pressed the matter and said that I needed to know why. This is how I discovered the latest in a long line of issues occurring when they visit their other mother. They were made to watch a horror movie. I started to name this movie, but thought better of it, because I'm a firm believer in not glorifying such negative things with any more attention than they might have.  If you keep up with cinema, this is a recently released to DVD horror film, rated PG-13, is about a family being harrassed by demonic possession. I looked up a review on Parent Previews, since I have no intention of watching it, because this site gives fairly detailed accounts of content, broken down into categories (violence, sexual content, language, etc.) and I wanted to know with what, exactly, we were dealing.
Now, my husband and I have to figure out how to keep this from happening again. I'll spare you the details. Here is where I rant. The previous was just for your information, so that you can understand the title of this post and what I'm about to say...

Are you crazy?! How dare you subject our children, MY children, to such horrific images, not to mention the other movies we have heard about in the past, with foul language and violence and considered just completely innapropriate by 99.9% of the world with any kind of standards! They are so impressionable at this age, with wildly active imaginations that take those images and run laps in their little minds. I litterally feel like I could sprout claws and let loose a howling growl towards the sky. My babies should not have to be afraid of their own rooms and every shadow out the window. I'm so furious right now, I could shake a tree.
However, I am a Christian and therefore commanded to forgive. I am also commanded to love unconditionally. It's not easy on days like this, so I remember that I Cor. 13:5 says that love "is not touchy or fretful or resentful; it takes no account of the evil done to it [it pays no attention to a suffered wrong]." This will be my mantra today. By the way, another good site for reviews is Plugged In, which gives you the same, plus from a Christian point of view. I didn't check it first, because I assumed they wouldn't have reviewed this movie. Upon closer inspection, they did have a very thorough and insiteful review.

Nichole Nordeman Has A Standing Appointment At Tuck-in Time

My youngest has never been the best sleeper, so it took about three seconds to start singing to him. Even when he was colicky, it seemed to soothe him. I've have tried everything, from the Beatles, Show Tunes, to my own lyrics to the tune of Frere Jacques. More recently I've struck nap/bed time gold with a Nichole Nordeman song titled My Offering. He'll be two and a half next month and his vocabulary and his curiosity are growing every day, so it makes sense that this would be the song that sticks out to him. The verses are very visually descriptive, yet simple, imagining that the singer was grass or a cloud or a mountain, and how she would still give an offering of praise. My son always requests this during tuck in, with his adorable version of English, saying "Wait! We haf to sing my osserig!" Now, even when I'm too tired to sing, he requests it and I have to give in. And it warms my heart to have even the youngest of our family singing to Jesus.