Friends

Once again I find myself thankful for all of the people God has put in our lives. I can't begin to count the amount of people in and out of town who have called, left messages, prayers, scripture, e-mails etc. today. I truly feel surrounded. I love you all and thank you so much for allowing God to use you as a means of encouragement to us. It has been amazing. We are very excited to watch God work tonight and tomorrow.

Here we go...

Anxiety

Well, the next step in this story is to tell you about the day that Phoenix was born. However, I find myself on the eve of another birth and without the emotional strength to tell the story. I have nothing. In fact, I wonder how I will even make it through birth. The emotions are so overwhelming that I am afraid I will walk into the hospital tomorrow to be induced and just start bawling like a little baby right then and there. I feel incredibly vulnerable. Right now, I have become one of the cattle they are herding through the office and hospital. Everything looks fine and so there is not a soul who is slowing down long enough to speak gently and comfortingly to me. I hate that I need them to... but I do. I am terrified. I have never been terrified to give birth. Not even when we were going to have Phoenix did I have this kind of anxiety. I guess because I realized that I shouldn't hold out much hope. Now, I've had hope for this whole time and I guess that is what scares me. It scares me to hope. It scares me to believe that Forest will be fine and I will be fine because, what if...

I know that isn't at all how I SHOULD be thinking. I know that when I get off of this computer I am going to RUN to God and pray like a desperate woman. But, right now, right this moment, I am just not feeling brave. "Lord, I believe, HELP MY UNBELIEF!!!!!"

awkward moments...

One of the inevitable things about being pregnant is the conversations you get to have with complete strangers. If anyone is given a few seconds with you... in a grocery line, on the elevator, at the bank...etc. then they will at least ask "When are you due?" or "Is it a boy or girl?"

Every single person that dares engage in a conversation like that is well meaning and usually loves the idea of having children. So, in my situation, I had to remember that. I usually just answered their questions and went on about my life. I had no desire to share a long drawn out story about my life with most strangers. However, sometimes, the dialogue kept going and often people would say something that required an explanation from me. You see, along with the other problems that Phoenix was having, he was unable to swallow. This meant that all of the amniotic fluid that my body was making, was building up inside the uterus with him. That made for a very rapidly growing tummy. I could have had it drained... but I was scared. I already had the amnio and I really didn't want them to do anything like that ever again. The risk of infection was there and I didn't want to lose him because of an infection. So, when I told people the due date and they looked at my stomach, they would always ask "is it twins???"

No, I would try to explain ...but then, they just felt terrible for even talking to me. It was awkward. To say the least. There are no real deep thoughts that I have on this, it is just one of the frustrating parts of my daily life that kept draining my emotions. That is the sad part. Although I didn't end up on medication, I WAS emotionally exhausted. I could barely handle life. My family and some of my closest friends, took the brunt of my pain. I would sometimes just be mad. Mad at everyone, the world. It was very hard to control. I wish it weren't that way, but it was. Most everyone was understanding... but it was still a bummer. I could tell I wasn't myself, but I couldn't do anything about it.

Unless you become like a little child

The days passed slowly and our family began to settle into a new "normal." We had finally talked to the kids. That alone is worth a blog. (: I will just share enough to let you know what it was like. First of all, kids are very smart. They are very curious by nature and trying to gloss things over just doesn't really work. We tried to tell them that their brother was "sick". Well, that didn't really work since they thought he had a cold and we should pray for him to feel better...No big deal. Well, OK, not just "sick" but ..."really sick". Well, OK, "what do you mean, 'really sick'?" Oh my... this could go on all day. In the end, we decided it was better to tell them everything. Including the big words. They got an education and could better understand what their brother (and our family) was facing. You can imagine that from that moment on, our house was filled with some very sincere questions. We got to have many talks about what God can do and what God "does". How he is sovereign and if we were all getting every miracle we needed, then this place we are would be called... "Heaven". Jesus said, "In this world, you will have trials and tribulations, but do not fear, I have overcome the world." They were able to dig deeper into their faith than many are able to in an entire lifetime. Surprisingly enough, they were very at peace with it all. Mostly, they wanted to pray for a miracle. A child's faith is like no other. But we had to also prepare them for the fact that we might not get a miracle. We had to discuss how rare miracles are, and that is why they are called miracles. Inviting them to walk this road with us was the best thing we could have done. I am so glad that I had time to make peace with God first though. I was unprepared for how many questions they had and their need to talk about it ALL the time. There were days when I just didn't have it in me and my sweet husband would have to step in and save me from their questions. I would retreat somewhere and cry. I just didn't have all the answers. I guess that was good for them to see. It also took away the one place I could go where I felt like things were still normal. In the end, it was still the right thing to do. Just wasn't easy.

A hope deferred

As I type tonight, it is snowing. Snow is beautiful, quiet, and fun when you get to play in it. But, tonight, I especially like this snow. The ONLY reason, is because of how badly my son Parker was wanting it. I watched him this evening, longingly looking out of the window, hoping it would snow any second. It took most of the evening and he finally went to bed just moments after the snow began to fall. I was happy, he was happy. I loved seeing his wishes and dreams come true, no matter how small. I am struck by how much the Father must want the same for me. He watches me all the time and knows exactly what my hopes and dreams are. He knew how badly I wanted another baby to add to our family. For some reason, still not completely known to me, He chose to allow this one dream to only be partially fulfilled. But, do we choose to argue or complain... or say "Thank-You". I know as a mother that the only reason I would ever allow my son to have his hopes dashed, is for reasons usually greater than he can comprehend. It's about the big picture, not that one single moment. So, I must trust that God, who knows abundantly more than me, has a plan. I must rest in it. He is sovereign, I am, well... helpless without Him.

A letter

Along with the many cards that people sent, I had many a letter to read. Heartfelt, sorrow filled letters. Wow. Some who had walked this road... I had no idea. Many wanted to praise me and my husband for our strength. That was somehow the most comforting to me. If they could only know, know how incredibly "not strong" I felt. So, what they saw, make no mistake, was an amazing God carrying us. It was a confirmation to what I thought was happening, but didn't know for sure. God had sustained us every day so far. What an amazing thing. I was too overwhelmed to even know for sure. It was a fog. So to read that people saw strength... wow.

Another card that was sent said "Courage is fear that has said it's prayers." Yes, that's it.
My brother sent a letter that I read over and over again. I wanted to share it with you. It goes beyond Phoenix...

"I wanted to assuage your grief with nice images rendered by beautifully placed words and ideas. Unfortunately, I am too close. My words just won't come, and if they did , they would be painfully insufficient.

Did you ever notice that when you hear something that is not just true, but THE TRUTH, that it seldom feels like you are hearing it for the first time? From the moment we can comprehend language, The TRUTH sounds different to us. It feels more like remembering something than learning it. That is why words often times only limit Truth when it is shouted most loudly from a melody, a moment of silence, a sunrise, or a child who doesn't yet have words.

Among the really great writers and poets there is a sense that they are "finding" the poem, not "making it up" or "creating it" but "finding" it. They pull magic that was already there out from in between the cracks of life. They delve into our memories and hopes and find the eternity between the minutes and seconds by which we measure our lives.

It takes effort to find the poetry. The work can be dirty, bloody, and at times fruitless. There are a few things I have learned in searching though. One, you will find it long before you can put it into words, and the more you find, the harder it is to explain. Two, any fragment of the poetry you stumble across will change you, it always does. Three, find the poetry and inevitably, you will find the hand of God.

We count our lives away in minutes and seconds. We time our waking, eating, sleeping, and living. We schedule our love, our celebration, our fellowship. Every minute and second we schedule, track, and count down, we are aging, dying. The moments you discover the poetry though, are eternal, there are no minutes or seconds to them and there is no dying or aging...only pure life. These are those few moments in the tangible presence of God.

Most of us are rich in minutes and seconds, but poor in eternity. Rich in words, but lacking in poetry. Phoenix won't likely have the mass of minutes and seconds that the rest of us waste so much of. I know that any of us would give him some of ours if we could. But, even if we could give him eighty years full of minutes and seconds, we could not come close to the gift that he is giving us. You see every moment we have with him IS, and will be eternal. His coming shatters our clocks and schedules with breathtaking eternal moments whose beauty will for years to come shake our minutes and seconds with TRUTH and POETRY.

I don't expect any of us will be able to voice the poetry in this moment for years to come, especially not you. But, I can promise you it is there. Just remember, you can find it before you can explain it, it will change you, and in between these minutes and seconds that we rue, is the eternal hand of God, composing beauty we cannot now comprehend.

God smiles from ear to ear thinking of you. He laughs thinking of your brave ability to love and cherish life in the face of death. It rebukes the curse that affects the rest of the world, it is a resounding threat to the kingdom of darkness. Your attitude now is reminiscent of Christ's in Gethsemane when he said "not my will, but yours be done." The hope we carry in us says to the world, "Death, where is your sting? Grave, where is your victory?!" You truly carry around the death and resurrection of Christ within you.

I admire you. The magic of motherhood is a secret magic that I will never know anyway. The magic you are working now is a towering achievement even for motherhood. I can't write the poem yet, I doubt I will ever have the eloquence, but I can feel it and I know it is there. I love you."

A Poem

This is a poem that was on the front of one of the cards I received. It says it so well...

"God has not promised
skies always blue,
flower-strewn pathways
all our lives through.
God has not promised sun without rain,
joy without sorrow,
peace without pain.

But God has promised
strength for the day,
rest for the labor,
light for the way,
Grace for the trials,
help from above,
unfailing sympathy,
undying love."

+Kristone+

Hmmm, I guess that's right isn't it? God hasn't promised those things? If I listened to the prevailing culture in many of our churches across America, I might forget that. Or, if I listened to many televangelists, I might forget that. Surely, if I send my check in, surely, I'll get the easy life...right? God is not a vending machine... He is almighty, all powerful, unchanging, and unfathomable in His ways. I cannot possibly comprehend His plan.

What does it mean to be grateful?

First of all, I can tell you what it doesn't mean. It doesn't mean that there is no longer any pain. Often, I remember crying, in the shower or curled up in the bathroom floor and trying to verbalize what I was thankful for. Almost like a defiant chant so the world could hear that I wouldn't focus on all the bad. I am not an "overly" spiritual or religious person. I don't believe that the devil is hiding around every corner... but I do know that he would have delighted in my despair. So, I didn't want to show it to him. Or at least, if he must see it, I would show my grateful heart at the same time.
Being grateful, to me, was choosing to see what Phoenix had to offer to me and the rest of his family and the world while he was here. He was made for a purpose, no matter how long his life proved to be, so I was determined to be thankful for it. We had prayed for this little boy for 2 long years. He was an answer to prayer just in his very existence.
I became incredibly grateful for friends. Friends that were willing to just sit with me and enter the pain. I always thought that unless I had something healing to say, then I should not be involved in someone's trials. How wrong I was. There really isn't healing in the words. It is only in the being there. Now I know.
When I least expected it, one day, I pulled to the end of our drive way and got out of the van to get the mail. I was alone. I opened the mailbox and out spilled what looked like a hundred envelopes. At first, I thought, what did the mail man do wrong??? Then, as I picked them up, I realized they were all addressed to me. The overwhelming emotion that came over me is very difficult to describe. It was almost as if 100 people were all of a sudden standing before me saying... I'm so sorry. I almost fell over in the street. I managed to get to the van where I sat... right there in the driveway and read each card and cried for almost an hour. Some of my close friends and my dear sister in law had come up with the idea for a "card shower". It was perfect. I still have every single card and I will for the rest of my life. Those cards are more valuable to me than most things I own. They represent so many people and their love for our little boy. I read them every once in a while. There are a few that I would like to share with you. They are so profound and poetic. They should not be kept for just myself...

Decisions...

One can only imagine that in a place like this (having a child that has a terminal diagnosis in utero) there are many decisions to be made. My first decision was to not accept the "terminal" part until God actually had Phoenix in His hands. For now, he was in our hands and I was determined to be his mommy as long as I could. No, abortion was not an option.
However, I have to say something controversial right now. I cannot blame any mother who has been in my shoes and decided to end her pregnancy. You see, I don't believe that their love for their child would have been any weaker than mine for Phoenix, but perhaps they did not know...did not know so many things. First, that it won't "take away" or "fix" the pain. Perhaps they did not know a Heavenly Father that could carry them through each day as I did. Perhaps everyone surrounding them told them it was the only way. I do not know, but I can only think that they did what they thought they had to do and I pray that one day they will have healing from the scar it might have left.
That being said, it wasn't an option for us. As I said before, I think too much. I knew that even though it would temporarily end a little uncertainty in my life, I couldn't possibly not give my little boy every fighting chance. I wanted to also give God the opportunity to heal him. If not a healing, I at least wanted God to have the opportunity to do what He was wanting to accomplish through this life that He had so graciously entrusted to our care.
The next decision I made was to have an ultra-sound done everytime I went to the Dr. Our Dr. was very gracious and gladly allowed this to me. Those days were some of the most magical of my life. They were the only chance I had to know my little boy alive. He would squirm and move and I would smile and cry.
Naturally, I guess you would think my next decision was concerning delivery, but it wasn't. Not yet. Delivery seemed like it might be the end, so I just couldn't think about that yet. However, my next decision proved to be critical. It has to do with a little booklet I had read a couple of years ago. Years, when I was entrenched in toddler hood and potty training and strong willed children. When I thought my life was so incredibly difficult and frustrating and draining. Oh, what I would pay to have those problems back. In those years, I stumbled onto a book called "The attitude of gratitude" by Nancy Leigh DeMoss. It is small and simple and to the point. I actually believe it is a literary version of many of the speeches my father gave me as a teenager. He would be glad to know that the words he spoke so many times had actually planted a seed in my heart and when I needed them, they were watered by this book. All of a sudden, what he had planted, sprung into action. This book, very matter of factly, lists what grateful people do for those around them and what ungrateful people do. I determined to become grateful. Even if it was only for little things.
So, now, at this moment in my life, when I faced the darkest path I had ever looked upon, I remembered that book. I chose to begin finding everything in the situation that I could possibly be thankful for. There were more than you would think.

A pause...

Well, I wanted to take a brief pause to update everyone on Forest Winston Cook. We are one week away from induction and the Dr. says he weighs 7lbs. 14 oz. (I am only 37 weeks pregnant people.) UGH! This is one big boy. Of course, this weight is only a guess and it could be off by a pound or so. Yikes.
So, I am incredibly filled with joy to have seen him on the screen and look at every detail of his body and know that as of today he looks perfect. He even had chubby little cheeks that could be clearly seen. (: However, fear is mounting as we approach delivery. You see, I am having trouble visualizing actually leaving the hospital with my baby. When I had Rachel and Parker, I was completely innocent to the many problems that "could" have happened. Now, I seem to be able to list way too easily the things that "could" go wrong. I am praying almost moment by moment just to fight off these thoughts. I am resting in the hands of my Almighty Father and completely helpless to do anything but completely trust Him. So, if the thought crosses your mind, please pray. I would be extremely grateful. Inducing scares me, his size scares me, umbilical chords scare me, shoulder dystocia scares me... on and on. But, I know that I am in good hands with my Dr. and that God is right there with me to give me strength. So, I will try to just keep praying and trusting.

Where can I go when it hurts this bad??

Pain is not a new experience in this world of ours. Plenty of people have gone before me on this road or at least this "kind" of road. But, when it is you experiencing the pain, it feels VERY, VERY lonely and it is easy to forget that you are not the only one. There are so many paths available on this road. I could look to sugar to fill my void. (I've done this before.) It doesn't work for very long. I could turn to alcohol (never done that but the idea sounded very interesting.) I could get a prescription... which they offered right away (at least something to help me sleep.) However, I have always been one to think a little too much on things and I could see the end result in these paths... Eventually, I would still have to face the pain. I knew my Heavenly Father loved me despite what I was experiencing and somehow I could feel that His heart was aching as badly as mine was. SO... I ran to Him and crumbled into His arms. DAILY. I somehow began to find books that people had written on pain and read every single one of them. I read "A Path Through Suffering" by Elisabeth Elliot, "The Problem of Pain" by C.S. Lewis, "Holding onto Hope" by Nancy Guthrie, and more recently I have read "God on Mute" by Pete Grieg. Each of these was relevant to my road and helped me see that there were others on the road. No one I knew had ever experienced this kind of thing except one acquaintance I had at church and her loss had been years ago. While she was incredibly sympathetic, I certainly didn't feel like she was on the road with me. It was so helpful that I found the Trisomy 18 Foundation on the web. These ladies were walking the exact same road as I was. Just in various stages. It was great to be able to read what they were saying. I didn't post very often, but I didn't feel quite so alone. It is a strange thing to be so surrounded by friends and family that love you and yet still be incredibly alone in your struggle. Everyone had an intense desire to comfort and help, but no one could REALLY understand.

In this day and age, when we don't like something, we fix it. When we are uncomfortable we do something about it, we don't like pain and we do everything to take it away. However, I simply had no way to take this pain away. It was a road I had to travel and it promised to be long and difficult. Somehow, slowly, I settled into this new reality. And, strangely enough, I found joy along the way. I will tell you more about that tomorrow.

Surreal life

Those are the best words I know to describe the life I was living and preparing to live from now on. I really don't know what I expected when I finally found out the results of the amnio. The only really good thing is the realization of what a great doctor we had. He called us at home, gave us time to get the kids to the grandparents and then he actually came to our house to talk to us about what they found. I wanted to know... but I didn't want to know. I was so conflicted inwardly that I really didn't know what to think. So for the most part, I didn't. It seemed thinking was only an exercise in futility. Wrapping my head around this was impossible. Understanding it was impossible.

Well, the Dr. told us what we had expected. Our little boy...(by now we had named him)Phoenix Gabriel, had Trisomy 18. For anyone who doesn't know, a trisomy means that on one of the DNA, everything failed to separate correctly. When there are problems with the DNA, it means every single cell of their body is affected. It is not a small problem. Likely, you have only heard of Down's Syndrome. Down's Syndrome is Trisomy 21. It is the most survivable Trisomy but even then, many babies do not make it. The further up you move on the DNA ladder, the more severe the problems. So, Trisomy 18 is more severe than Trisomy 21. We had lots of questions for him so he stayed and answered them all for a long time. My emotions didn't do anything more than they had already done. I love that we have amazing technology in our day and age, and I love that we can do so many amazing things to save people... but in this case, all technology had done was give me information and then tell me there is no technology to fix it, no medicine to fix it, nothing they could do. Nothing. ((ugh))

Information is a strange thing. It can be very empowering but it can also steal your faith in God to do the impossible. I found myself believing the diagnosis above believing that God was capable of a miracle. Here in lies the struggle I faced for the next 10 weeks. I had many questions. In my head, I knew that God could do a miracle. In my head, I also knew that Phoenix was currently very sick and not likely to live for very long. One day, I would wake up with the strength to pray and believe and KNOW that Phoenix was getting better, somehow, miraculously. Another day, I would wake up with complete and utter despair hanging over my head. Why should I expect to have a miracle when I know that plenty of other deserving people out there didn't get theirs?? What about orphan children in other countries, or children who have no food, or the children who have been sold into prostitution? Don't they deserve a miracle? What about my 2 uncles that we just lost to Cancer? Didn't they deserve a miracle? YES, they all deserved a miracle, but for some unknown reason, they didn't get it. So, now, all of a sudden, God should part the heavens and provide a miracle for me? I found it hard to request. Yet, as a mother, giving up hope for your child seems unthinkable. I was drowning in my own thoughts.

Into the silence

In case you have never had the need for an amniocentesis, I will tell you a little detail that I didn't know previously... the answers don't come quickly. The doctor told us it would be around 2 weeks before we would have any information from the amnio. We went home in shock. It had been a little less than 24 hours since our whole world was shaken to its core. Everything about this experience was contrary to what I had ever imagined for my life. I had always quietly told God that the one thing I really could NEVER handle was losing one of my children. Let anything else happen... anything. I was sure that I would simply wither away and die along with them. So, I began this day to day walk with the belief that if a miracle did not happen, I would probably die from heartache.
The house became a quiet peaceful place. Miraculously, I do not think the kids argued once for at least a year. My husband became very calm and steady (not that he wasn't already) and made sure there was very calm peaceful music playing almost 24 hours a day. I walked around as if in a dream. I talked with God and didn't quite know what to say. I had never needed a miracle quite this badly. If I really tried to talk about it with Him, the tears just started flowing. I decided that it was really all I could do was cry to God. There weren't any perfect flowery words that I could form. If there was a formula to pray for a miracle, I wasn't capable.
I just cried and He listened. I remember waking up every morning and trying to sort out whether I had just experienced a very realistic bad dream, or if I was living it. Of course, it usually hit like a ton of bricks very quickly and I would inwardly sink. Somehow, I would manage to drag myself and the HUGE lump in my throat out of bed. I managed to not cry in front of the kids yet. We still hadn't told them anything because we didn't quite know what to say. The happiness and innocence of their lives served as therapy for me. I liked to get lost in their world and pretend that everything was perfect and carefree. Because to them, at that moment, it was. So for 2 weeks, my life became silent. The whole world as I knew it had gone into waiting. Me, my husband, every relative and friend and acquaintance... even God... silent.

Take a deep breath

Well, the next morning finally came. We tried to convince the kids..."sure, it's absolutely normal to have lots of 'extra sudden' appointments to check on the baby. (Right mom.) They were 8 and 5 by now and quite keen in their ability to notice something is not right. Still, we didn't want to explain anything until we knew what we were explaining. The amniocentesis itself was not QUITE as bad as I had imagined. I guess you can really imagine alot of crazy things if you let yourself. I did NOT look at the needle. I'm sure I would have at the very least broken into a cold sweat if I had done that. The Doctor said, "take a deep breath..." and next thing you know I was lying very STILL so that I didn't mess anything up. It was over with pretty quickly. But, I wanted to cry. It seems a little cruel to tell someone so many things that they never wanted to hear and then ask them to come in the next day and do a procedure they NEVER wanted to do. Double whammy. When I look back, those little 24 hours were so fast... I really didn't even know what hit me. I was sure it was at least a freight train, but who knew? It just went so fast. The doctor was able to answer alot of questions that we had managed to come up with over night. He mentioned that it was a very real possibility our baby had Trisomy 18. This is called "Edwards Syndrome". What is that? What does that mean? How does that happen? He patiently tried to answer it all while also explaining that he just didn't know for sure what was causing all of the problems until he had the results back from the amnio. I went home and looked up everything I could about Trisomy 18... It took many days for me to be willing to accept what I was reading. Even then, I couldn't accept it, but maybe at least comprehend it. These babies just do not live for very long. IF they survive until birth. What???????? Of course, everyone surrounded us in prayer. My parents came over and they prayed with my husband over the baby. Everyone wanted to keep saying that we would have a healing. I wanted to believe them. But, I knew that God had been involved from the minute this baby was conceived...He knit him together in my womb... he doesn't make mistakes...was it possible He knew that this is how he would be? None of it reconciled in my mind. My heart was strangely at peace but my mind was tired. I just kept taking a deep breath and trying to trust......

I remember...

I remember the day that I found out we were finally going to have another baby. We had been trying for 2 years and then some...Now, finally, we were adding to the family. I was ecstatic. My husband was traveling but I couldn't wait to tell him. He answered the phone on the other end and I screamed the news in his ear. We were thrilled. Everything proceeded along as normal and we had all kinds of plans for this new one. His big brother and sister were already fighting over who would hold him first. At 20 weeks, we went in for the ultra-sound to find out if he was a boy or girl. We took the kids and waited impatiently in the waiting room. I climbed up on the cold table and watched the screen with excitement. I was a proud mommy and very happy. God had finally answered our prayer and it was a day to remember.

Slowly, the technician measured things and looked at the baby, and very quietly, got up and left the room. I looked at my husband and said, "how hard can it be? just tell us if he's a boy or a girl???" I was irritated. It seems like time started standing still right about then. Later, the doctor came in the room and asked the kids if they would like to go get some stickers from the front office ladies. I started to feel sick. Why did the technician leave? Why are they asking my kids to leave? Why is the doctor in here? Why, why,why??? Little did I know that this one word was going to summarize my entire life for at least another year. The doctor began to show us, on the ultra sound, all of the problems that the technician had identified with our sweet little boy. Fluid everywhere. On his lungs, on his brain, on his heart. Too much amniotic fluid. Bladder wasn't emptying. blah, blah, blah, it all faded into echoes in the room as I had as close to an out of body experience as I will probably ever have. Words wouldn't come... tears wouldn't come... I couldn't breathe. What was he trying to tell me?

Somehow I left the office knowing that I was to return early the next morning for an amniocentesis so they could make a definite diagnosis. I'm not sure how I knew that. It is all a blur. The rest of that day was made to be as normal as possible. We did not tell the kids anything as of yet, because we didn't know much. I found out that life could be lived from one second to the next. I could only think about the very thing I was doing that second or it became so overwhelming that I started to get weak in the knees. I remember speaking to my mother on the phone and telling her that "right now I am making spaghetti for my kids and I can handle that." "So, that is all I will think about." I really didn't talk to God about it yet. If it was true, I was mad and I really didn't want to talk to Him at that moment. But, surely there was some mistake. Still, I didn't sleep a wink that night. Even if nothing was wrong with my baby, they wanted to poke a huge needle into my stomach tomorrow morning and that did not make for sweet peaceful dreams...

A New Journey...

I am beginning this blog so that I might tell the story of our family and our miraculous little boy named Phoenix Gabriel. I will attempt to do so as it comes to me as we lost him 2 years ago. I long to remember every day and detail so that I will never forget him. Ever.

The irony of it is that his little brother Forest is due to arrive any day now. I am so excited yet, so afraid. Not just to get him here safely, but afraid that with his arrival, I might somehow forget. I can't forget Phoenix... so, I will write about him. I hope that you will stay tuned.