The rain and cold have finally taken their three-month vacation, Dan took the baby so I have some time to myself, and we got some much-needed good news. Today, dear readers, is what is known as a good day. Okay, so it’s been a series of good days.
The doctor got back to us about the result of Sammy’s last medical test. It was a phone call that we are a little unused to getting: The test went well and didn’t show signs of additional problems. For the time being, no more specialists, no more tests, and no more surgeries! God is good, folks.Read More
Our lives feel like they have become a series of doctor appointments. In the past two weeks, we have been to see the pediatrician for a checkup (and shots), the hospital for a pre-stent removal test, and had our first visit with the pediatric surgeon, who put forth another possible diagnosis and ordered some more tests for Samuel. Not that I was surprised by that appointment. You don’t meet with a new specialist and not expect to get told to return for more testing. On the first of June, my baby is going under anesthesia again to have his stent removed. Today we had the latest visit to the radiology department of our new home away from home—which we were also at yesterday, because someone (Me. It was me.) got the date wrong and thought that Monday was Tuesday.
It has been awe-inspiring to know how many people have been praying for Samuel and his surgery. From across the country and the world, people have been reaching out to us to share words of comfort and express their hopes for his recovery, and we are grateful for each and every one. Those hopes and prayers were with us last week when we arrived at the hospital, and they were not in vain.
Despite the support we had from afar, there is nothing that prepared us to hear, “There was a little complication during his procedure…”Read More
Last night was one of those times when I need extra grace.
Daniel has been so worn out from work this week that he’s utterly exhausted by the time he gets home, and last night he had to go to bed early. I don’t know which of us got the rougher end of the deal, him for trying to entertain the fussy baby, or me having to make dinner on my own, but either way, the meal took the last of my energy and his.
The evening ended with the sink full of dirty dishes that won’t be cleaned until the next afternoon, which I hate. It’s not that I enjoy washing dishes—get real, who does?—but most days, I hate having a messy sink come morning significantly more than I dislike doing the dishes. Some nights, however, it’s just not going to happen. Especially when you finally got the baby to sleep by nine for once, and a single clanking dish might wake him.Read More
I’m going to make a statement that will surprise exactly no one: My son is perfect. From the blue eyes he somehow got from me, to the cheerful good nature he got from Daniel, every inch comes together to make the perfect baby.
And yet he isn’t.
I may be a mother, but I’m not blind. One of his ears is misshapen, he got my grandfather’s chin (sorry, kiddo!), and he absolutely hates car rides.