family

Motherhood & Parenting

An Atypical Waiting Room Conversation

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It wasn’t a typical conversation starter, but it broke the ice in the waiting room.

A deep rumble sounded from the chair beneath one of my sons. As if it wasn’t loud enough, he also made a proud announcement to everyone within hearing range. While all of the other parents around me tried to stifle their giggles, I decided to face the situation head-on as there was no hiding what had just happened. Feeling my cheeks burn, I chuckled and said, “Well, I guess that’s what you get with boys.”

And, just like that, we all began to talk.

After brief introductions of ourselves and our children, we discussed how our lives had changed after having kids. Soon, one woman asked me what life was like with three little ones at home. She added that she was genuinely curious because they were considering having a third child, but hadn’t fully decided if it was the right choice for their family. I could tell that she was hoping for an honest answer, so I decided to share both the joys and the “growing pains” that come with another child by opening up about some of the new challenges I faced. After hearing about some of the adjustment issues I had, another woman spoke up and shared that she had dealt with some similar situations after her youngest was born. She said that she appreciated my honesty because “It’s nice to know that you’re not alone.”

Although it was short-lived, that was one of the best conversations I’ve had in awhile. It wasn’t what we talked about that made it good, but rather how we talked. We were open and honest with one another—we were REAL.

I don’t know how or when it became the norm to pretend like we have it all together. But the truth is, all that it takes to connect with someone is a little honesty and two simple words, “Me, too.”

My hope is that we could all be brave enough share about our struggles as moms—you never know when you might meet someone who feels the same way as you.

Blessings,

Elise

I love hearing from you, please feel free to leave me a comment below or to connect with me on social media.

The post “An Atypical Waiting Room Conversation” first appeared on Boys and Blessings.

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Prematurity and the NICU

What It’s Like to Wait to Bring Your Baby Home

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The birth of our preemie was nothing like my previous birth experiences.

My hospital room was dark and quiet. The sounds of a baby crying echoed throughout the unit, reminding me of what I was missing. Less than two years earlier, I had delivered my second baby and was staying in the executive suite across the hall with my husband. Our stay had been filled with visitors, gifts, quality family time and midnight nursing sessions.

Things were completely different this time; my empty arms ached for those late-night newborn snuggles and the sounds of a content baby had been replaced with the quiet, steady rhythm of a whirring pump. A tear rolled down my cheek as I gently touched my swollen, empty belly. I needed to see him again. As I prepared to head back up to the NICU, my body seemed to protest each movement, reminding me that the labour and delivery had been especially rough this time around.

When I stepped out of the room, a young couple breezed down the hallway toward me with their newborn in a car seat. They were glowing with pride and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as they walked by.

Up in the NICU, I slowly pulled back the cover on the isolette and took in my baby’s small frame. Weighing in at just under 2 pounds and at only 13 inches long, he was the tiniest person I had ever seen. With the nurse’s help, I pulled up a chair next to him, gently placed my hands on his head and feet and whispered, “Mommy’s here.”

Five days later, I was discharged. As we drove away from the hospital, I kept glancing at the empty backseat behind me, knowing it would be the first of many nights when I’d have to leave without my baby.

We never expected something like this to happen to us, but then again, no one ever does. Through all of it, our hope and our faith in God were what drove us, what spurred us on even in our darkest moments.

Our son spent a challenging 123 days in the NICU before he came home. On that day, my heart swelled with pride as we walked out of the unit, together—our little miracle, our little fighter was finally coming home. That moment made every prayer, every tear, every minute spent in the hospital worth it. There was a sense of relief, of victory and an unspeakable joy in knowing that our family would, at last, be complete.

I share my story to help raise awareness about prematurity. Thank you for being part of the conversation.

Blessings,

Elise

 

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Devotions, Faith

The Way to Find Peace

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“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:7 (NIV)

A mother always remembers the first time she sees her baby. All of my children are precious, but the day I met my youngest will forever pull on my heartstrings. I had to be wheeled up to the NICU to see him because he entered this world much too soon. As I sat by his isolette, marvelling at how tiny and perfect he was, his nurse gently placed her hand on my shoulder and whispered, “They say that having your baby in the NICU is like riding an emotional rollercoaster, full of highs and lows. Be prepared for good days and bad days. He has a long road ahead of him.”

Our first low arrived late one night when the hospital’s phone number illuminated our call display. My hands trembled as I answered the phone. I listened intently while the doctor explained that they were going to run some tests because they were concerned about my tiny baby. He promised to call us back as soon as they knew more, then said a hasty goodbye.

Several minutes passed. A knot formed in my stomach as worry clouded my heart. I stared at the phone and thought, Please ring! I don’t want to wait any longer! I want answers now!

Desperate and impatient, I turned to the internet for more information. However, my husband quickly interrupted my search by reminding me, “Elise, God’s got us this far. We don’t know what his plan is in all of this, but we know that he’s got this. Instead of searching the internet, let’s pray and look to Him.” Reluctantly, I closed my search. I knew that he was right, that the pesky knot in my stomach couldn’t be undone simply by learning more about my son’s condition. The only way I was going to find peace was to give my worries to God.

In 1 Peter 5:7 we are told, “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” These are simple, specific instructions given to us by our Heavenly Father. In the same way that children share their fears and concerns with their parents, so are we to bring our problems to Him. And yet, just as I quickly turned to the internet for answers, sometimes we are reluctant to go to God first.

Maybe we hesitate because we need to feel like we’re in control of a situation. Or, perhaps we believe that our circumstances are too big, or too insignificant, to give to God. Regardless of our reasons, God is always there. He stands with outstretched arms, patiently waiting for us to surrender all of our burdens to Him.

We only need to remember that he is.

Blessings,

Elise

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Prematurity and the NICU

Our Biggest Miracle, So Far

One year ago, this past weekend, our lives were forever changed. Our little 25 week preemie, Roo, had only been in the NICU for 5 weeks. He had experienced his fair share of trials during that short time, but nothing could have prepared us for what was to come.

On the morning of February 19, 2015, I walked into the NICU and found that my baby’s health had severely deteriorated overnight. He was diagnosed with chronic lung disease, one lung had collapsed and his other lung was partially collapsed. The decision was made to put him on “the jet”, a last resort high frequency ventilation (breathing) machine that delivers hundreds of breaths per minute. They had to sedate him and give him a paralytic drug in order for the machine to do its work. At the same time, the doctor who was on came over to me and said, “Your baby is very sick…he probably won’t make it.”

As the doctor walked away, I crumpled into a sobbing mess, feeling shattered and helpless. Roo’s nurse did her best to try to pick up my broken pieces, but I could tell that she struggling to stay positive too.

My husband, who was a five hour drive away, found out the news through a text message. I would have called, but I couldn’t bring myself to echo the doctor’s devastating words aloud. Upon receiving my message, he found childcare for our other two children and came as quickly as he could.

Soon after my husband arrived at the NICU, Roo was also diagnosed with a severe case of NEC–a serious disease that affects babies’ intestines. NEC is detected and monitored with x-rays. Subsequent x-rays are done in order to examine the progression of the disease. Unfortunately for Roo, his follow-up x-rays indicated that his case was progressing rapidly, despite having been started on multiple broad spectrum antibiotics.

A surgeon was consulted and everyone on the medical team agreed that Roo desperately needed a life-saving surgery. Yet, he was too sick to be transported to the surgical unit at the children’s hospital across the river. He was then started on a series of drugs as all of the medical staff put their best efforts into stabilizing his vitals, hoping that he would soon be well enough to travel to the other hospital. And yet, nothing worked to improve his condition. If anything, all of the medication he was on only worsened his health; his kidneys suffered severe damage and he became unable to expel liquid waste from his body, even with the use of a catheter. (His intestines also appeared to have stopped working during this time.)

My husband and I stayed up all night with Roo, taking turns keeping watch over him, not wanting to leave him alone. In the morning we were physically and emotionally exhausted. He had only just barely made it through the night; his vital signs were still deteriorating despite all of the medical support. During morning rounds the medical team requested that we attend a meeting with them, to be held just after noon.

We called our parents in to join us for the meeting and we all sat down with the medical team to discuss Roo’s dire situation. Our family was presented with 3 options:

  1. We could keep doing what we were doing and see what happens. However, we were warned that waiting for him to stabilize wasn’t really the best option as the antibiotics that he was on would only serve to make the situation worse. The doctor said that as the bacteria in his bowels died off, they would give off gas, which would only further bloat his intestines and increase the chances of them being perforated.
  2. We could seek compassionate care. In doing this, we would have to admit that Roo was too sick to be saved. All life support would be removed and we would hold our baby as he left this world and entered the arms of Jesus.
  3. We could send him for the surgery that he so desperately needed. And yet, this wasn’t really an option because he was too sick for transport; he couldn’t be transported with the breathing machine that he was on and, even if he could be, he might not survive the journey or the surgery.

Basically they told us that they believed that whatever choices we made about Roo’s health didn’t matter–ultimately he wouldn’t survive.

We looked at the medical team and said, “These options aren’t really options; they all lead to the same outcome.” However, we went with option one because it offered the most hope. We were not going to give up on Roo, not after we had fought so hard for him already.

After the medical team left, my mom looked over at me and said, “They didn’t give us option four; we’re choosing option four. We have a mighty God who can heal Roo.”

In that moment we came together as a family, parents and grandparents, and prayed for Roo. We fervently prayed for his healing and that he would be saved. (At the same time, we also had many others praying for him.)

Two hours after our family’s prayer, his vital signs began to improve and they were able to begin weaning some of his medication.

The following afternoon, just 24 hours after our prayer, Roo completely stabilized: he was moved back onto a conventional breathing machine, his heart rate entered back into the “normal” range, his blood pressure continued to level out and the swelling in his abdomen was drastically reduced. At that time he was declared well enough to be transported to the children’s hospital. They loaded him into a “Stork” (a portable incubator complete with a breathing machine and monitor) and wheeled him into a waiting ambulance.

We met the surgeon soon after we arrived at the new hospital. Upon seeing Roo, the surgeon declared, “This isn’t the same baby I heard about yesterday…Roo is healing and is not a surgical patient at this time.” Hearing the surgeon’s words was like balm to our wounded souls; they brought us more hope and joy than we had felt in a long time.

Those who had witnessed how sick Roo had been could offer no explanation as to why he improved so quickly, but we knew…

This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. (1 John 5:14 NIV)

The rest of his NICU stay wasn’t without trials, but God brought us through the worst of it that weekend.

On May 16, 2015, after 123 days in the NICU, Roo came home!

Everything thing we experienced that weekend, along with just having our baby in the NICU, really tested our faith; we seem to have this innate desire to be in control of everything. And yet, the Bible tells us to trust in the Lord:

Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord, the Lord, is the Rock eternal. (Isaiah 26:4 NIV)

Roo’s time home hasn’t been free of “bumps” or worries, but we’ve continued to trust that he and his brothers are in God’s hands; we’re doing our best to remember to cast our cares upon Him.

We serve an awesome God! What are you trusting Him with today?

Blessings,

Elise

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Encouragement

Why I Wouldn’t Change My Hardest Year

Another year is over and a new one has just begun. If you’re like me, you may find that this time of year seems to be the heaviest; it’s full of mixed emotions as we reflect upon the past twelve months.

Perhaps as you look back on the year, you realize that it was your best one yet. You may have celebrated an accomplishment, began a new chapter in your life, welcomed someone into your family, or had a wonderful life-changing experience.

However, there are those who feel sadness, regret and despair when they reflect upon the past year. Maybe that’s you. Maybe you were faced with circumstances beyond your control, you suffered a painful loss, or perhaps you just wish that some of your choices were different. Whatever the case, know that you are not alone.

Personally, I found this New Year’s celebration to be incredibly difficult as I thought about what 2015 looked like for me. In hindsight, the year didn’t start out all that well, almost as if it were foreshadowing what was to come.

On New Year’s Eve, 2014, I found myself suffering from a pregnancy complication and strapped to a gurney in an air ambulance as I was transferred to a hospital 500km away. My husband couldn’t fly with me, so he left our kids with a caregiver and drove nearly five hours to meet me–just so that we could be together to welcome 2015 in my new hospital room. As the clock struck midnight, a wave of relief washed over me. I was extremely grateful to leave 2014 behind as it was bittersweet: full of both joy and sorrow. And although I looked forward to 2015 with optimism, nothing could have prepared me for what it would bring.

Less than two weeks after ringing in the New Year, our baby boy was born at just 25 weeks gestation, weighing under 2 pounds. My world crumbled when I realized I was in labour–to say it was terrifying would be an understatement. No one ever expects to find themselves in such a situation, but there we were, thrust into the world of being NICU parents to a micro preemie.

We were told that the NICU was like rollercoaster ride, full of ups and downs. However, I disagree. I would say it’s actually more like living out an awful television drama, full of unexpected plot twists, miracles, indescribable heartache and unspeakable joy. We would have to endure this drama for four long months. During this time, our sweet baby suffered through more pain and faced more trials than most people experience in a lifetime, and we were helpless to stop it. All we could do was stand by his side and pray.

Our worst day dawned about a month after our son was born. I walked into the NICU and found that his breathing had severely deteriorated overnight. His lungs were failing him and, on top of that, he had contracted an illness so severe that the doctors advised discontinuing life support; they were convinced that any further treatment was futile. No words can describe what it’s like to be given news like that. In that moment, his life was the only thing in the world that mattered. We came together as a family and prayed more fervently for him more than ever before. By God’s grace, and to the amazement of the doctors, our son made a full recovery, only requiring surgery (a month later) to remove some scar tissue that had formed when he’d healed.

While all this NICU drama was unfolding, my husband had to return to work. For months we lived in different cities, separated by a long drive. He came down on weekends and I was left to split my time between taking care of our two older kids and visiting our baby in the NICU when our other children were at a babysitter’s.

I can tell you that those were some of the darkest days of my life: my stomach was twisted into a permanent knot, my chest felt tight–like I couldn’t breathe–and there were several nights where I found myself crying (what felt like) every tear I had. All I wanted was to be a family again, to have everyone healthy and together under one roof.

And so, after 123 days, my wish came true; our baby finally came home. However, having him home wasn’t quite like what we had expected–we found that though we had left the NICU, it never really left us. You cannot come out of a situation like that unchanged. The rest of the year was spent in countless doctors appointments and taking whatever precautions we could to ensure our baby remained healthy, so as to avoid another hospital stay. It was completely unlike when we’d brought our other (full-term) babies home from the hospital.

And yet, as I relived some of my most painful moments, I realized that I wouldn’t change anything. It may sound strange, but we experienced beauty in the midst of our circumstances. Because of our trials, we had the opportunity to meet and develop relationships with so many incredible people, several of whom will forever be dear to our hearts: medical professionals, friends, family, strangers, other NICU families, etc.

Our marriage also looks different now than it did a year ago. Going through a complex pregnancy and the NICU together showed us the true meaning of “for better or for worse”–it became more than just a nice cliché. At a time when many relationships falter, ours thrived because we chose to unite and press on together. In doing so, we learned things we never knew about ourselves, each other and our faith. As such, we came out stronger than ever before.

On a personal level, I have been completely transformed by this past year: my faith is deeper, my relationships richer and my empathy greater.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” James 1:2-4 (NIV)

If this past year was hard for you, I would encourage you to look back at how it has shaped you, how you have grown and what you have learned. Consider what you can take away from your experiences, focus on what you can look forward to in the new year and how you can make the best of it.

Despite everything that has happened, I am choosing to face this year with the same optimism that I held for last year. I know it won’t be without its own trials and hardships, but I’m trusting that we’ll be able to enjoy more family time and I plan on soaking up all of the little moments that often get taken for granted.

Blessings,

Elise

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28 (NIV)

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Encouragement

When the Holidays Hurt

“This isn’t what Christmas should look like!” The thought resonated through my mind as I took in the cold, white, barren room. The only hints of colour present were the pale yellow curtain next to the bed and my faded, blue hospital blanket. Shivering, I pulled the blanket closer and looked out the window. “At least there are Christmas lights in the distance,” I thought.

Oh, how I longed for the warm glow of the Christmas tree in the evenings. How my heart ached to hear my children’s squeals of delight as they counted down the days to Christmas. How I wished that I could feel my husband’s warmth when the nights grew cold.

Instead, I was stuck on bed rest in the hospital with a severe pregnancy complication. While others were crafting their Christmas lists, I wanted only one thing–for my baby to survive.

A tear fell as the reality hit hard; I was spending Christmas in the hospital this year. When everyone was gathering with their families, I was missing mine. I wished I could skip Christmas altogether.

And yet, in the midst of my sorrow, there was a tiny flicker in my heart–hope. Hope that my situation would improve, hope my Christmas could still be “merry” and hope that we would be celebrating our baby’s first Christmas the following year.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13 (NIV)

Ever so slowly, that hope blossomed, and I realized that I can choose to let my circumstances get the best of me, or I can make the best of them.

This attitude shift allowed me to count my blessings instead of focusing on my losses. I reflected upon the kindness shown to me by friends and strangers alike, and I was truly grateful for my family, who did their best to give me a merry Christmas. Most of all, I was thankful that my baby continued to be healthy and strong. My Christmas may not have been ideal, but God gave me the strength to get through it with a positive outlook.

Perhaps you can relate. Maybe Christmas looks different for you this year because you are coping with your own sorrow. Let me encourage you; you aren’t alone. There are many people who are hurting alongside you, who wish that their circumstances were different. And while we may not be able to change what’s happening around us, we always have hope. We can hope for a brighter future, and we can hope that our stories will touch the lives of those around us.

Dear friend, I am praying for you today. I am praying for peace in the midst of your trials and for the strength to face this holiday season and all of the days ahead.

Blessings,

Elise

“…but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” Romans 5:3-4. (NIV)

I love hearing from you!  Please feel free to leave a comment or connect with me on Facebook.

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