These are the Special Times

The days are passing so quickly. One day when I need to remember the most special times of my life, I will close my eyes and picture these special days and moments in time, here and now.

Journee is crawling now. We put her down and watch in amazement as this tiny, sweet baby gets so excited when she realizes she is free! She rocks back and forth as if she is getting the momentum to GO!  She looks around, and then tentatively puts out one arm. Then without further hesitation she goes to it, crawling until she decides she wants to sit up. She maneuvers her little leg underneath herself and rocks on her sweet little bottom until she is balanced and then sits up and just beams. She looks so proud of herself and claps as if to say, “I did it all by myself!”  She then finds something (anything, the leg of a chair, table or human will do) and pulls herself up and then looks at us as if to say, "Okay, I'm standing.  What now?"  She hasn’t quite figured that out yet. We sit her back on the floor and laugh because when she sees anything she wants invariably she manages to get it one way or another – if not by crawling or rolling, she is very expressive and there is always a willing adult around.

She astonishes us with how much she is aware of her world.  Just this week, I sat her down on the floor surrounded by all her toys.  This did not suit Baby Girl.  I watched from the kitchen as she crawled toward me, heartbrokenly sobbing and every once in a while looking up at me with little waterfalls running from her beautiful blue eyes and down her cheeks.  She continued to crawl and sob until she was almost where I stood, when she paused by the doorway to Nana and Papa's room.  I wondered for a brief instant if she was simply distracted.  And then it happened...in the middle of her sobs, I hear "Na-na-NANA!!!"  I looked at my baby in shock as I realized she recognized that was the room where Nana played with her, dressed her for bed and rocked her to sleep. 

My daughter also knows that it is the room where the pony lives. He perches on Pa's speaker and sometimes Pa and Nana will get it down and let her play with Mr. Pony for a while.  She has not mastered the English language as of yet, but Journee has no problem whatsoever letting all of us know exactly what she wants. She looks at Mr. Pony, then looks at Pa and Nana. If they are not paying attention to her (which is rare!) she will begin to lift her voice. When she has their attention she will look at the pony and point. Usually, that is enough to get her what she wants. If not, she looks back at them and then points to the pony and says something like, “Puhhh.” That always does it and Mr. Pony is given to her, if only for a few minutes. Since she has a bad habit of chewing his mane, less is preferable!

Most mornings, I wake to the sound of her playing in her bed with Connity, her special Cabbage Patch doll.  No matter how tired I am, I smile as I listen to her cooing and laughing.  Each morning when I step into her nursery and she sees me her eyes light up and her face is transformed with the biggest smile.  She begins waving her arms and I say, "Good morning, Princess." I pick her up and she snuggles into my arms and pats me on the shoulder with obvious approval, all the while wrinkling her nose at me and laughing her little half-laughs.  We have these amazing conversations during breakfast, intermingled with "Num!" She loves sharing my morning eggs even after she has already had her breakfast.  Most food is “Num!” but the chocolate pudding Pa usually manages to sneak to her when we aren’t looking always gets an enthusiastic “NUM-NUM!!” That always gives the secret away no matter how innocent Dad tries to look.

My days are filled with her smiles, her million and one facial expressions, her sweet laughter, and tears when nothing will suit her but my arms.  There are challenges, yes.  She is a very busy little girl even when she is in our arms. She wants to sit up, she lies down, she tries to climb us as if we are trees, she admires the ceiling lights, she wants to check out what’s on the floor and holding her is like juggling several porcelain trinkets.  Most nights I help Nana with her bedtime bath and it sometimes takes us both to hold her still long enough to get her dressed. I fix her bottle and after she has went to dreamland in Nana’s arms we kiss her night-night and lie her down in her own soft bed.  My last thought is always a prayer of protection and thankfulness for my living miracle.

I am with her so much I don't realize those subtle changes that my family sees when they come home in the evening.  It escaped my notice how tall she was getting, that her face was slowly losing that baby look, that her tummy is now protruding over her diaper and that her hair on top is getting thicker.  All that usually registers is the day to day issues: she cried today because I had to do some things and she didn’t want her toys, she wanted her mama because getting those first teeth are so painful; she finally finished her food, but wouldn't drink her juice; how many diapers I have changed and how many loads of laundry are still waiting to be done. I am absorbed in the number of poopy diapers she has and the consistency (or non-consistency) of the poop in those diapers. Those are the things that occupy my thoughts most of the time.

Then there are days like today when I see my baby in Mamo's arms, laughing up at her, and it hits me.  It hits me hard.  My baby is taller.  Her tummy is rounder and in her eyes, I see new knowledge.  It also hits me that although the days run together and I feel that I can't catch my breath in between the endless laundry, diapers and bottles, she is absolutely what makes my world go around and this is the essence of life.  I see the wonder in her eyes when we give her a new toy and her surprised reaction to seeing twinkling lights for the very first time. I love to watch her pat my dad's face and when her Nana walks in the room, baby girl gets so excited her whole body squirms to get in her arms.  I hear the love in my family's voices as they talk to her.  She lifts her arms to her daddy to pick her up and every time she does this, I see that pride in his face.  I watch fascinated as she gives baby kisses to my mom (who is the only one who receives these kisses and only when SHE wants to give them!).  I tear up sometimes as I watch her lay her cheek against my Mamo's aged cheek.  I look forward to seeing her excitement Christmas morning and I wonder if she will stare raptly at Papa when he reads the story of THE Baby born in a manger and how the Heavenly Host proclaimed His birth. It is still amazing to me how still she will be when Pa puts his hand on her head and prays for her – it is as if in her baby wisdom she is aware a sacred rite is occurring.

Today, I was in a not so pleasant place, a place where people’s hope comes in the form of poison dispensed through an IV and I heard words like "aggressive and low risk/medium risk/high risk."  I watched as the sight of my happy baby brought smiles to these people in various stages of treatment, some walking slowly with their IVs, some with caps to hide their loss of hair.  From the window, I stared at the rain pouring from the Heavens and listened as my baby talked to her pacifier and Mamo asked questions and we tried to absorb the answers.  Some might question bringing Journee along to an oncology office for Mamo's appointment, but her warm, soft body was such a comfort while we listened to answers to questions we didn’t want to ask in the first place.

Ever since October when we learned Mamo was sick, I have felt time racing forward.  I want more time in the day to make more memories that we will share with Journee one day.  I pray that there’s enough time that my daughter will remember how she giggled and got excited when Mamo gave her a tiny sip of milk with sugar and just a hint of coffee.  I want Journee to laugh and say, "Mama raised her eyebrow at Mamo for sneaking me some caffeine, but Mama wasn't mad because her first memory is sitting on Mamo's lap drinking milk and sugar with a little bit of coffee!"

As I stared from the warmth of the office to the gray outdoors with raindrops being driven around by the cold wind, it hit me with the shock of a soft, squishy snow ball on a warm face that these are the special times, here and now. I mentally check them off, one by one; a rosy-cheeked, healthy baby in my arms; my husband’s look of pride as he gazes at his baby girl; Nana and Pa so in awe and totally captivated by this precious little baby that is their granddaughter; Mamo’s laughter as Journee patty-cakes and her pride as she tells everyone who will listen that she taught Journee what “eyes” meant; Poppy’s big smile as he says, "Come here Journee-Rose;" and LOVE so tangible if it was a color we could see it and so pure it can only be sent from Heaven.  Yes, these are the times we will remember.  These are the special times we will hold in our hearts forever. 

May you enjoy your special times and moments this year with those you love and may your Christmas be filled with those moments that last forever.  In those immortal words from Charles Dickens, “May God bless us, bless us everyone!”

Thankful Thursday: Big Miracles, Little Baby

It's November, the "thankful" month. Usually, I always post a Thanksgiving thankful blog, but this year I want to continue my Thankful Thursdays.

My baby will turn 8 months on the 23rd. Incredible, 8 months of Journee!! I feel so blessed when I have her in my arms, but there are special times that I look at her in wonder and it overwhelms me to think I have been blessed with such a gift.

We knew she was a miracle from the moment we heard her first heartbeat. Those 40 weeks and 6 days I carried her, I knew every heartbeat and every movement was a miracle. When she was born and I held her those first few minutes (before they took her away because I got so sick), I could only cry and thank God over and over for the miracle of her life.

These 8 months have not been without challenges. At three weeks we discovered she had the beginning of venous malformations on her neck just like my Mamo. We prayed desperate, heartbroken prayers and called the Pastor, Assistant Pastor and other prayer warriors to join us in prayer. I'll never forget my Dad opted to stay home and remain on his knees in prayer during her doctor's appointment. Somewhere between the waiting room and the doctor walking in to check her she was divinely healed. It had completely disappeared.

Journee was born with torticollis and at 3 months started receiving chiropractic adjustments. Since 4 months, she has been monitored every month because she has a very small head (in the 5th percentile) with a flat spot and she is in the 5th percentile for her weight. At 5 months, we were told if her head size and shape didn't improve we would be sent to neurological specialists in the Bay Area; doctors were worried her skull had grown together which would prevent brain growth. If that was the case, she would undergo surgery and we could expect developmental delays. Again, we prayed and added another doctor, this time a cranial physician.

On the 5th of October, we discovered the KP pharmacy had given us the wrong syringe for Journee's acid reflux medication. That day was horrible. There it was, right in my face, how easy I could have lost my miracle baby. "Seizures" "respiratory failure" and "leukemia like symptoms" were a few of the words used. Again, God had his hand on Journee.

Yesterday, I took her to the doctor because she has a cold and I wanted to make sure she didn't have an ear infection or Strep throat, since that is going around. The doctor noted that she says "Dada", "Mama", "Nana" and she recognizes "No" and "Bottle."  She gets excited when she sees her food or a spoon. She pulls herself up and would rather play with our iPhones than her own toys. Her eyes get big and she says, "NUM!" when her Pa sneaks her a tiny piece of chocolate frosting - that always makes us laugh.

After a thorough examination lasting almost a hour, the doctor informed me Journee is a bright little lady who is developing just fine. In fact, the doctor said she was a "well-made" petite baby who is developing better than some babies who haven't had the history we have. And I'm so proud to say her head circumference, while still small, has grown and rounded out and is just fine.

I watch her as she falls asleep and think of all that has transpired. Her pacifier falls out. I watch her take her sweet, little baby hand and find her pacifier and put it in her mouth, all while still asleep. It always makes me smile. Ever since she was overdosed she has been sleeping with me. I place her in her own little spot and but she squirms and wiggles until she is cuddled against me. I cuddle her and pat her beruffled behind and marvel at her perfectness.

I have to agree with the doctor's assessment that Journee is well made, but I can't take credit for that. God has watched over my child since the day she came to be. He has proven that over and over to us. I don't know what He has in store for her life, but I know He brought her into this world and has kept His hand on her for a purpose and my prayer is, "God help us not get in your way!"

This first Thankful Thursday, I am thankful for miracles, little and big; for my sweet baby who brings us so much joy; for my Christian brothers and sisters who have shared our joys and tears and spent so much time praying for our precious baby; the sweet people around me who love my baby just as if she was one of their own and those of you who are so happy for our happiness.

I've been told I am lucky to have her. I've been told I'm extremely lucky she didn't seize and stop breathing every single time she was overdosed those 30 days. I'm not lucky; I've known from the beginning Journee was a miracle - and I am blessed.

　

　

　

Six Months of Joyous Life

Every time I stand in front of Mamo's "ice box," I stare at a photo of a smiling couple. Her hair is all curled up, the result of an hour or more standing in front of the mirror, and he is smiling at the camera with his arm wrapped around her. They look happy, but if you look away from the perfect smile and into her eyes, their blueness tells a different story. There is something missing and she feels it acutely. The day before that photo was taken in 2010, she woke up knowing she wouldn't have happy news to share with family that the baby she so wanted wasn't on the way. I stare at this photo for two reasons: I'm in awe of all that has happened since that photo, namely, my arms aren't empty any longer and I wish I was as thin as I was in that photo post baby!

She is six months old today. Time doesn't stop when your heart breaks and it doesn't stop when your heart is joyous. It marches on and all you can do is just march with it. I've been meaning to write of all the wonderful days with Journee, but here's the thing: When you are busy LIVING and trying to keep up with a tiny baby, the less time you have to be creative. I'm sure as she gets older and I figure out how to entertain our resident Royal Highness at the same time keeping up with household responsibilities, I will be able to arrange a time for creativity.

Journee is amazing. Sometimes I look at this tiny human and I'm in awe that she is mine. My wonderful doctor told us way before she was ever born that she was most definitely her own person. How right he was! I feel sometimes that I'm experiencing life all over again through her eyes. She knows her family and there are days she is choosy as to who she wants. There are nights that if her Pa walks by and doesn't pick her up, she cries while there are other days, like Friday when Gramma left, she cried and cried. The best thing though is she always wants her Mama. I have found to my delight, Mama trumps everyone. At five months, she started raising her arms to be held. What was even more amazing was the day after, Mamo was holding her and I went to pick her up and she looked at me and then deliberately turned her face into Mamo's shoulders and wrapped her little arms as far as she could around Mamo. I must tell you if it had been anyone else, I wouldn't have liked it all, but I laughed because once again, she was asserting herself. How fitting for my daughter!

We started solids around 4 months and once again, she lets us know what she likes and dislikes. Honestly, I worry because she doesn't seem to like much baby food. In fact, the only fruits she likes to this point is pears and mangos. Peaches, apples and the rest she politely closes her mouth shut and just looks at us. She does love her vegetables though. Of late we are trying to get her used to the sippy cup and not having a great time of it. She prefers our water bottles and is fascinated by our cups. She loves to drink water out of our Dasani water bottles, but water in her own pink bottle - no, she looks at me like, "Mom really?" I think as she gets older, we are going to find she will prefer to eat as we do and will reject the "baby" stuff.

The biggest news I have to share is she has been sleeping in her beautiful crib for two weeks today!!! We had been trying to slowly get her used to her crib for naps and that was going successfully, but the few times we tried at night, she cried and back in her swing she went. You see during the time she suffered from colic, the swing was what got us through. Then colic went away and teething started. Don't get me started about growth spurts! Through it all, the only way she would sleep was to be gently rocked all night. I worried and worried about what I was going to do when she outgrew the swing. Then in the last month due to some medical events, I knew I had to transition her to her crib and honestly I was terrified! The crib, although it is solid mahoghany and the craftmenship is superb, seems so big when your tiny piece of Heaven is laying in there all alone! Then one Saturday morning, I heard her sweet cooing in the monitor and when I went in her nursery, there she was laying in her swing and the swing wasn't moving. Now at 1:30 that morning, I had checked on her when my hubby left for work and it was swinging just fine. I found out that when my dad went to check on her at 6 that morning, the swing was on, not swinging and popping and cracking which probably added a few more white hairs to my dad. That night she slept with Gramma and Pa. When Sunday night arrived, oh I was so worried. I should not have worried. She curled up with one arm around Connity (her Cabbage Patch baby) and slept all night! Now she knows her room and her bed and her army of stuffed animals. In fact, when I carry her in her nursery and she sees Mr. Bear holding all the rest of the Bear gang, she gets all excited and waves her arms.

I would imagine the next big news I will have to share is the appearance of lil toofies!  She has been teething since before she was three months old and as of yet, she is still toothless!  Poor thing!  Some days, she really suffers with her pearly whites and all I can do is hold her and try to comfort her as best as I possibly can!  When she cries on those days, I find myself tearing up right along with her and praying God would take pain from her and give it to me.  Yet even on those bad days, she still smiles at us.

Whenever I'm out with Journee, invaribly someone will comment on my beautiful baby and always ask her name. When I tell them, they look at me and say, "Wow that's such an unique name!" or "Journee....That's beautiful." I smile in anticipation of the next question, "How did you come up with that?" I usually say something along the lines of "she is my Lil Miracle." What happens next is very predictable. Either the person asking looks in my eyes and i can see in their eyes, they know exactly what I mean and they don't need me to say anything else OR I see in their eyes they understand, but want more information. Depending on the situation, sometimes I will smile and say, "She is my only living child, but I lost four babies before her." I will admit that even in the midst of my happiness, I still tear up when I say this and there are days that I haven't felt up to giving a stranger more information and so I leave them wondering.

Journee, when you were born, I thought I couldn't love you anymore than I already did. I knew of unconditional love, but in all honesty, I had never felt it until your first cry and my first glimpse of your tiny face. You have challenged me in your first six months as I'm sure you will keep doing. Looking in your innocent pure face, I'm determined to rise above my shortcomings and somehow I hope to be a mother you will be proud to have. I don't know what your future holds, but I know I have the power to influence and how I pray, my influence in your life is consistently one of Godly strength and overwhelming hope. I marvel all the time at your joy. You seem to have entered this world thinking it was job to smile at everybody you encounter and because of you, sweet Baby Doll, I smile more than I ever have my whole life.  There are days when my cheeks actually are sore from smiling at you and making you giggle by blowing raspberries on your little tummy and nibbling at your toadies!  I thank God every day that you are in my arms and I actually have the power to make you smile and giggle when I tickle you or kiss your tummy. I love our mornings, Baby Girl! You fill me with delight at your every facial expression and how you get excited and think you have to move every limb of your body. Just recently, you have discovered the mirrors in Mama's room and you are fascinated and mesmerized at the sight of that beautiful baby looking back at you.  You are truly surrounded by love and though some might call you spoiled, I really wouldn't have it any other way. Oh I know we will have moments in the future with your little "personality," but Journee, I have determined to discipline you as wisely and patiently as I possibly can. You are teaching me so many things about myself and I promise to keep working on me so that you will have the benefit. Your first six months of life have been the most challenging and the most joyous and happiest of my life! I thought I would be sad when you reached your half birthday, but I find myself so looking forward to the next six months!  I can't wait until you start crawling and walking and talking to me!  In the last week, you have just started babbling "Da da da da wa da la wa wa wa da da."  Now we all know you are saying "Dada," but you don't exactly associate your daddy with the babble you are saying so Mama is okay with it, especially as you know who I am without a doubt. :)  I told your daddy he owes me one since I'm the one who constantly tells you, "Mama, Dada, Papa and Gramma!"

Happy 6 months of life, Baby Doll! I don't think there could possibly a happier mother in the whole world.  I love you with all my heart and all that is within me! 

 My dear sweet Journee,

You are two months old. How this happened I do not know, as it seemed just yesterday I was marveling over your newness and perfectness. You were so tiny, I was constantly terrified I was going to hurt you and held you ever so gently. For your first two weeks of life as I was recovering from your birth, Grandma gave you all your baths. I had so much fun choosing what you would wear for the day, lovingly handling all your tiny, soft baby clothes and adoringly looking on as you were placed so carefully in the water. It didn’t bother me at all to just look on because you were so tiny and squirmy, and even as a weeks old infant you loved bath time. When I finally decided it was time I gave you a bath, I think I held my breath the whole time. When I was sure you were squeaky clean, I wrapped you so carefully in your soft towel; Mamo and Grandma laughed so hard when you decided that was the perfect time to urinate all over me!

Journee, you have changed my life so much. My world revolves around you. Every smile enters my heart and breaks into a thousand pieces and fills me with such joy. I thrill when your eyes find me and you recognize me, your mama, and you flash that smile that lights your entire face. When you cry, I fight tears myself. Every single tear that slides down your rosy cheek breaks my heart and fills me with worry. Are you in pain? Is your diaper too tight? Do you have a headache? I keep worrying until the sobs cease and you smile again.

 Before you arrived, I was very much into my sleep, and sometimes I’m pretty sure I spent more hours of the day sleeping than been awake. Now I feel lucky if in 24 hours I get to enjoy 3-5. Even at one in the morning when I am so tired I can’t think straight and you want to be changed and fed, my heart is happy. Yes, sometimes I do desperately ask you to please, please, go to sleep so I can sleep. Sometimes when I’ve just crawled into bed so very tired and fallen asleep, your crying awakes me and I cry too, but I want you to know they are just the tears of exhaustion, and I look at your sweet face and I am so happy you are the reason I’m awake. On those rare occasions when you do sleep 5 or 6 hours, I awake horrified and jump out of bed to rush over and look at you to make sure you are still breathing. Dad and Grandma think this is quite funny, though they understand and I don’t mind when they laugh.

Your Grandma has had such fun laughing at me, my dear one. Before you were born, I emphatically assured everyone that we were going to have a schedule and a routine! You were not going to sleep with Mama and you most definitely were going to sleep in your beautiful crib. I reasoned you would be comfortable in your very expensive bed and it would be good for you to get used to sleeping in your beautiful nursery. At these moments when I would be expounding on how it would be, Grandma would just smile a knowing smile and say, “Uh-uh, we will see.”

When we brought you home, all Mama’s reasoning went out the window. I took you in your nursery and showed you all the exquisite finery awaiting you, but I knew in my heart there was no way you were going to be placed in that room, out of my sight. Since it was too painful to get up into the bed, I slept in the recliner and you were put in the cradle right beside me. I even insisted on a night light (several actually), so I could see you. Even then, your mama wasn’t comfortable and so I ended up cuddling you on my chest all night. That was simply the best way for me to get sleep and I reasoned you would sleep better next to my heart. It made perfect sense to me and Daddy, Grandma and Pa just smiled. When you did sleep in the cradle, Mama didn’t really rest and woke all hours to check on you. Even now, sleeping in my own bed, you sleep right beside me in your swing and just recently, in your pack ‘n play.  

Grandma has begun telling me it is time to put you in your crib - I am not sleeping well, you are not sleeping well, Daddy hardly sleeps at all, and I know in my heart she is right. However, the very thought terrifies me, and quite frankly, when the time comes and you are put to dreamland in the crib, I know I will be sleeping on an air mattress in your nursery for the first night or two. I know this is more for my comfort than yours, but really, if you wake up and cry, I will be right there.  

At your two month checkup, the doctor asked if you were sleeping in the crib yet. She smile got bigger and bigger as I earnestly listed all the reasons why you were not: after losing your four siblings to Heaven you were my Lil Miracle: I waited and waited for you to arrive and you have only been in this world 8 weeks: you were barely finished with colic: and yes, you still slept right next to Mama’s bed. I confidently told her in a month or two I would be transitioning you to the nursery, but for now it wasn’t going to hurt for you to be where I could see you at all times (I didn’t tell her I would then start sleeping in there, too!) I looked at Mamo and she was smiling too!  

The doctor agreed that our current sleeping arrangement was quite all right and she understand my anxiety. She did suggest that during the daytime after I rocked you to sleep, I put you in your crib for your nap. This way, it will be easier because when you wake up, you can see your new surroundings and I can check on you often. So, my sweet baby, over the next month, Mama is going to try this and I hope you like your crib, but for a little while longer, the nighttime will be spent with you right beside me.

Thankfully, you are finally done with colic and now that we know you are sensitive to corn sugar and possibly gluten and dairy, we will be extra careful in the future to protect you. Hopefully, you will grow out of it and the acid reflux that plagues you.

Your dark hair that shocked your adoring family is lightening up and your Daddy is still holding out hope that it will, by some miracle, turn red. Mama doesn’t think this will happen, but she loves all the copper highlights in it that remind her of her hair! If it stays dark, sweetie, that will be just fine! I do think you will turn out to be a blondie, though!

 Do you feel all the love you are surrounded with, Most Dear? I think you do, because you are such a happy baby. Even when you were crying with your tummy when we told you how much we loved you, you would stop crying for just a minute to smile at us before the pain made you cry again.

Your Grandma laughs and says when I write I always write a book, but when it comes to you, she is just as bad! We love you so much. I will end by quoting one of my favorite books that I hope becomes one of your favorites - “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.” I love you, Baby Doll!

The Sun Has Risen...At Last

Journee Izabella Rose made her long-awaited debut into our lives on March 23, 2012.  I wish there were words to express how I felt to hear that first cry from our baby, but there isn’t.  I’ve heard of people crying tears of joy and happiness, but never experienced it for myself until 9:21 a.m. when I heard our daughter’s first cries.  That was a moment I will cherish for the rest of my life. 

I had imagined her birth a thousand times before.  I had imagined what it would be like to hear that first cry and see the face of my miracle baby for the first time. The problem with imaginations is they are only that – interpretations of what you think an event will be like or feel like. Until the event happens, it remains an imagination. It’s like closing your eyes and pretending to bite into a warm, chocolate chip cookie if you’ve never tasted a warm, chocolate cookie.

The tears I shed that morning were for so many reasons. I cried because birth is beautiful and miraculous. I cried for the empty years of waiting for this one, perfect moment. I cried because one journey was ending and another one was beginning. I cried for all five of my children because even the joy of her birth did not cause me to forget my four other little ones I never got to meet. I believe I started crying at that first wail and I’m not sure when I finally stopped. 

Her birth was much different than what I imagined. I had imagined 24-48 hours of labor followed by that moment when my doctor would deliver her to Puccini singing the last strains of Nessun dorma (my favorite aria) and then she would be laid on my chest.  What really occurred was not in the plans to say the least.  My doctor announced he would be doing an emergency cesarean section.  We hadn’t anticipated that and in all honesty, it wasn’t my favorite option.  I had thought about the possibility, but never wanted to go that route since only my husband would be with me and my mom wouldn’t get to welcome Baby Girl in her first moments of life.  That was upsetting since Mom has been with me through each and every loss, and every step of the way with Baby Girl.  When my doctor finished explaining the details, I asked him if Mom could please be in the operating room with us.  He smiled and said he didn’t have a problem with it and he would check with the anesthesiologist, but was sure it would be fine. I don’t think he was surprised at my request since Mom was with me on so many of my visits. She cried with me as we heard the heartbeat for the first time. She was there when we were told she was a girl and the doctor laughed with us as we laughed and cried and held each other as told each other over and over, “It’s a girl, can you believe it? We are going to have a girl!!” I’m sure he knew what I would want before I even asked.

The doctor left to get things rolling and then the nurses came back saying that it was a go for Mom!  I’ve said it before, but I love my doctor!!!  I know it is VERY rare they allow two people in there and I also know if my doctor hadn’t known our journey of loss and heartache, it probably wouldn’t have happened. 

I fought major anxiety all the way to the operating room.  It surprised me honestly because I’m no stranger to surgery and it wasn’t until they wheeled me in there and I saw that sterile bed that I knew why.  The last time I was in that environment, they were taking what was left of my dream – the tiny baby that would never know life outside my womb .  It surprised me that the heartache and trauma of that day still lies deep within my subconscious.  Fortunately, before I had time to mull over that, my doctor was there helping me out of the chair and being my support for the spinal anesthetic.  It was a new experience getting numb from the chest down. In fact, I have laughed since then because there I was lying on the table looking down at my toes, not feeling a thing.  Since it was new and I wanted to make sure for myself I was numb before they started cutting on me while I was awake, I actually laid there and told myself, “Move your toes!”  Then for the next 30 seconds or so, I concentrated the hardest in my life to move my toes.  No movement at all! Whew! LOL!

So there I was, flat on my back, paralyzed, this big, huge, blue screen in front of me so I couldn’t see what they were doing, my hubby at my left and my mom at my head.  I heard the wonderful words from my doctor, “We have our baby” and then I heard the most exquisite sound on earth - her cry.  Let me tell you, she wailed in protest and there was no denying that she had arrived.  I bawled and bawled and bawled some more in between asking, “Is she all right?”  I heard my doctor saying, “She is perfect,” but I had to ask Mom several more times before I was satisfied.  I just kept saying, “We have our baby!  We have a daughter! We have our miracle.”  It was so frustrating to just hear her cries and not to be able to see her for myself. Baby’s daddy left to be with her while they examined her and I had to rely on Mom to tell me what they were doing.  I’m so thankful Mom was there because she was able to reassure me and keep me informed of the details around me. She actually used her iPhone to video the events happening across the room and I got to see a bit of what was happening, but it seemed so far away!

And then, the moment I had been waiting on so long - my hubby comes walking up with this tiny bundle all swaddled in blankets and I saw our Journee for the very first time.  She wasn’t too happy being out of her warm swimming pool and squinted up at me, but she was the most beautiful little person I had ever seen.  I stared in awe at her and then looked up at my hubby to see two very teary eyes.  I had wondered what his reaction would be.  He is not a very emotional person so I knew he wouldn’t sob or cry like me, but I’m satisfied with those teary eyes.  They told me all I needed to know.

When they wheeled me into recovery and I left the operating room, all I could think about was the barren woman whose arms were empty for so long is no longer barren and those lonely arms are filled.  I no longer have to sit on the sidelines and watch babies being cradled in their mother’s arms and wonder for the thousandth time what it feels like to cuddle your own baby.  The days of coming home to an empty, quiet house filled with the knowledge of love lost was over.  I felt fulfilled and complete. 

I also thought about my other babies and sent a prayer Heavenward in thanks for those four little babies who are waiting for me beyond that crystal river and all I could say in my heart was “Thank you so much for giving me today, for letting me hear that healthy cry, thank you God for a beautiful daughter.” 

Unfortunately, the effects of surgery caught up with me in recovery and after the happiest 15 minutes of my life holding her, I don’t remember much of her first day of life.  Since we had waited so many years for this miracle, we had all agreed I would be the first one to post those wonderful words on Facebook and select the first picture that would be sent out. We did not think of a backup plan, and Mom and hubby were getting panicked. So many dear friends had shared the journey with us and were getting frantic at no news, but what now that I was so out of it and couldn’t send the announcement? We had names picked out, but I had told them we were not naming her before she was born and before I got to meet her.  I would know at birth if her name fit her.  Somewhere in the middle of the day, I remember Mom and my hubby insisting I make a decision. Actually, they had been asking and pleading with me for a while, but I would just go back out to dreamland without answering.  I eventually remember looking at her tiny face, those intense dark blue eyes and the shock of dark hair and thinking, “Yes, this is my Journee AT LAST.” 

My mom had to be the one to share the news since I went back to being unaware, but Mom and Justin were understandably relieved I came to enough to make a decision! I knew most all of you who know me would understand the meaning behind her name.  This has truly been a long journey to meet our miracle baby, but her name has another meaning that is just as poignant.  In French, Journee means “Rising Sun.”  How perfect.  The sun has risen in our lives to a new day, a new chapter, one that is the happiest I’ve ever known.  I know there will be some raindrops in this new chapter, but for now I bask in the warmth of this exquisite piece of humanity, this beautiful creation, my Journee, who warms my soul as surely as the sun warms the earth.

If He Knows When a Sparrow Falls

Spring is right around the corner!  The almonds have blossomed and it is beautiful in our neck of the country.  I can't wait to hold the gift that Spring will bring me this year.

We have survived one of the toughest year of our lives. I don't talk much about March 8, 2011, but it is always with me.  A year has passed since I was given a glimpse of Heaven and held by Jesus.  In many ways, it seems as if it happened yesterday, and the memory is still clear and vivid. When looking back, I realize even more what a gift I was given. God knew how much I would need to draw on my experience to get me through all the pain of our heartache. 

Sometimes I look to the sky and wonder what my lil Matthew is doing up there.  I close my eyes and see again the clearness of the river, the magnificent waterfalls and how those fields of flowers never ended.  The other night in church someone read in Revelations where it talks about the crystal river flowing out of the throne of God and I saw all over again the flowing river and the diamond like structure that I still can't describe. I cherish that memory and hold it close in my heart!

As the year anniversary drew closer, I found myself more anxious than what I had anticipated.  It seemed as if the tears were always right behind my eyes.  A year ago, I was focused on surviving a day a time and couldn’t even think of “one year later.” Now, I am surprised at how much it still hurts. I have come to terms with the realization that my heart, though healed, will always ache for the little baby my arms never held. I’ve found myself paying even more attention to the wiggles of Baby Girl just to reassure myself that all is well with her and, as if she knew her mama needed wiggles, she has happily obliged this week.

The tears did arrive in the early morning hours of Saturday, March 3rd, but they weren't the heartbroken tears of a year ago.  They just flowed in memory of Matthew and Heaven and in thankfulness for the miracle waiting to arrive.  What a day it was!  Months earlier when my friends started talking about my church baby shower, I told Mom it would really be amazing if my shower ended up being on the 3rd.  We kind of dismissed the idea because that would put me so close to delivery and at that point we still wondered if we would already be holding our precious baby. Two other dates were selected and then fell through; my heart felt such awe and wonder when the only date left for the shower was Saturday, March 3rd.  I laughed and told my friends it was no coincidence.  It was meant to be.

The day was beautiful!  Even as I got ready and ran last minute errands, I kept thinking what a beautiful day it was and how blessed I was to have such a happy day to anticipate. The shower was more than I ever could have imagined.  I knew my wonderful friends were planning a tomboy/princess theme, but they surpassed all my expectations with the cake table!  It was the perfect blend of girly-girly and tomboy, right down to the homemade pink slingshot and the pink mitt and ball. 

For my tea party baby shower, a cake we found online immediately became our dream cake.  When we went looking for pricing we were dismayed to find it would be roughly around $300, and that didn’t even include the filling.  Even my mother, who is slightly nonsensical about spending too much money on baby girl, realized it was out of the question and we sadly gave up our dream cake and made cupcakes. 

When the cake arrived for the March 3^rd baby shower, Mom and I shared a very poignant moment. It was complete except for the topper, where Baby Girl's monster truck was supposed to be placed, but it was too large. We stood and talked about what to put on top and then my hostess came in carrying lil tiny shoes her daughter had worn at her Christening.  She placed them on top and suddenly, an almost perfect rendition of our dream cake was before our eyes. It was so exquisitely beautiful!  You can never convince me God doesn't know about the little things!!!!

The rest of the day was surreal. Around the same time I was happily taking photos with all my precious friends and talking about contractions and how close Baby Girl’s arrival is, a year ago I was finding out there was no longer a heartbeat.  What a difference a year makes!  I thank God for giving me such a happy day to remember always!

Sunday morning I woke up having painful contractions and just miserable in general.  As I lay in bed trying to get comfortable and go back to sleep, a memory filled my mind that I hadn't thought of for a year.  March 4th, I awoke out of sleep knowing the baby I carried had no heartbeat and once again, my dream wasn't coming true.  It was midmorning, I was at Mom's house and I just sat in the chair in their music room and looked out at the beautiful day, numb, yet so filled with pain and disbelief.  Mom and Dad had stepped out of the room and I was alone.  I was looking out their sliding glass door when a tiny bird came flying along and flew right into the door.  Kerthunk!  It fell, inches away, on the cold cement.  I stared in horror, my mind thinking, racing, "Oh God, you let my baby die and now you are letting me see another innocent creature die!!!!"  In my mental state, it took a minute to realize the screams that filled the air was coming from me.  Dad and Mom came running and found me collapsed by the door.  Mom grabbed me and Dad went outside and gently picked up the bird.  I was completely hysterical at the sight of the tiny body laying in front me, Mom was trying to hold me together and Dad walked out and gently picked up the bird. He realized since it was still breathing that it was just dazed and carefully laid it on the fence.  My mom was holding me, repeating over and over, “Janille, the bird is alive, we think it will be ok,” but it took some time to sink in and I was doubtful. After a minute or so the bird did come awake and flew off, but we all watched in amazement as it made a loop and came back and landed by my Dad's hand. The tiny creature looked up at him as if to say, "Thank you, I'm all better now" before flying away into the blue yonder. 

All this week I have thought about that tiny bird.  Even then, God was trying to let me know that in my grief He was there.  There is an old song that says, "If He knows when a sparrow falls from its nest and He grieves just to see it die...how much more He loves you and me..."  We know He feeds the sparrow and cares for the lilies of the field, but it is so easy when a horrible thing happens to question his love and understand the reason.  Some things we may never understand, but I have found He is always there, holding us through the heartache, even when we can't feel His arms.  There are no words to describe the heartache from losing our precious baby Matthew, but a year later I have the hope of Spring and holding his baby sister sent all the way from Heaven.  I know the comfort of the truth in the words, “If He knows when a sparrow falls, He will take care of you and me.”