Monday, March 27, 2017

We Knew She Was Different

The first time we laid eyes on her, we knew she was special. Katerina had a way of lighting up a room with her huge smile and her pure joy. And…when she met her daddy for the first time…oh the joy, such incredible joy. We didn’t know how Katerina would react to Joel, because many children living in orphanages haven’t had a lot of contact with males (most caregivers are women), but Katerina knew this man was HER daddy, and she loved him immensely, and the feeling was mutual.

Katerina has always been such a special little girl, in many respects. She’s the only girl out of the four we’ve adopted. That, in and of itself, makes her very special. She holds her own with the boys, but she loves to be the girl God has created her to be. She plays with dolls, likes to have her fingernails painted, and loves to wear pretty dresses.

Soon after our adoption of Katerina (and her brothers) was complete, we had them all evaluated at an international adoption clinic and by their local pediatrician. It was clear there was something else going on with Katerina. We learned early on there was a developmental delay (not uncommon coming from orphanage life). But, we were referred to the Fullerton Genetic Center to have her evaluated for Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS). Children coming from the part of the world where these children came from are often exposed to alcohol in the womb, and FAS or any of the Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorders (FASD) are very strong possibilities for these children.

Upon her genetic testing (which ruled out some other possibilities) and a battery of testing, Katerina was confirmed with FAS. Our hearts broke for our sweet daughter. It wasn’t her fault, but she’ll have to deal with the effects of a choice by another for the rest of her life (as will her new family).

This past December, Katerina was evaluated yet again, and we learned she also has Autism. That somewhat came as a surprise, because many symptoms of FAS are in direct contradiction to Autism Spectrum Disorders (ASD). However, she scored high enough in the other categories that her diagnosis was clear.

Joel and I knew we were in for a lifetime of parenting this little girl who would grow to be a young lady. What would her future look like? Would she be able to learn enough to live independently? Would she ever be able to work a job? So many questions…

This past Friday, I faced the next challenge alone for the first time. Katerina just went through re-evaluation for her IEP (Individualized Education Plan). She was given a large battery of in-depth tests. The results of the all the testing…our baby girl is mentally challenged. Her IQ is very low, and she is now considered “moderately intellectually delayed”. I think we knew it deep down, but I heard it for the first time, and my heart broke again. I had to grieve for my daughter all over again. But this time, I didn’t have her daddy to grieve and share this news with. I truly felt and thought to myself, “How much more Lord? How much more weight can my shoulders take?” I know I won’t feel this way forever, but for now…I feel the darkness is getting heavier and the pit is getting deeper. I’m still praying and waiting for breakthrough and a glimpse of the light breaking through the tunnel.

But, God has great plans for Miss K! I know He does. She is full of compassion and love and seems to know how to comfort people in pain in ways others don’t. I had a bit of a meltdown a week ago that unfortunately happened in front of the kids. The boys kept asking if I was okay and wanted to help with words. But my sweet girl…she walked up to me and started rubbing my back…she didn’t say a word. She just rubbed my back! God used her mightily in that moment to comfort her hurting mama.

He has great plans for my girl! No doubt in my mind. I just want to make sure I listen to His still, small voice to know what role I play in His plans for her. Without Joel to help me make decisions, I’m trusting God to fill the role of “husband to the widow” He’s promised and guide me through some of the hard decisions I might have to make decades from now or even in the next few weeks.

He won’t let me down. His plan is always perfect and always better.

I’ve been working with Katerina on learning some things about herself that I want to make sure she never forgets. She finally knows them, and will repeat them to me when I ask her to tell me her “I am’s”…and, she’ll say…

I am beautiful.

I am special.

I am smart.

I am loved.

Yes you are my precious! You are so, so loved!

Monday, March 20, 2017

Yes…It Was THAT Serious…

Rather than showing you pictures of a rather nasty looking foot…I thought you might prefer to see a picture of my new friend and temporary ride.

Now that the second foot surgery is behind me, and things are moving in a positive healing direction, I thought I’d share a little more.

The original foot surgery on March 10 was supposed to be a simple Tarsal Tunnel Release. I had one about nine years ago and did quite well with it, and it’s typically a very simple surgery. I knew I’d have to baby my foot a little bit afterwards, but I had only planned to be out of work 5 days (including the weekend), and planned to end my leave following Joel’s death with the end of my surgery recovery. It had been on the calendar awhile anyway, and I couldn’t wait to have the ability to walk pain-free again. So, I went ahead with the already scheduled procedure.

Then…things went down a path nobody (especially me) expected. While some pain was expected, I had an extraordinary amount of pain following the procedure. Additionally, I had large pools of bleeding.

**By the way, if even the talk of blood makes your stomach queazy, you might want to stop reading here. 

After I was safely in the house following being dropped off by my ride for surgery #1, I turned around to hobble my way to the bathroom, and I noticed a trail of blood along the floor that looked like I had entered the room of a crime scene. It. Scared. Me. To. Death. I went to flag the ladies down (who were outside on the driveway at this point) and made an immediate call to my surgeon’s office. The doctor’s office talked me through what to do over the weekend and to continue watching it and what would necessitate a trip to the ER. Thankfully, I never had to go to the ER over the weekend, but I did have to make a trip to see my surgeon in Asheville again on Monday morning. He was not pleased at what he saw and already hinted at a possible second surgery being necessary to fix the current problem. We’d continue to watch it for another day or two.

Well, the next day (Tuesday) – now four days post-op – landed me a trip to the local ER, as my pain had gotten out-of-control. It was no longer controllable with the medications I had, and the bleeding continued. The ER staff re-dressed the wound as well as controlled the pain in a more direct, short-acting way. I went back home nearly five hours later.

Wednesday – more of the same.

Thursday – back to Asheville for the surgeon to do another wound check. The conversation went like this:

Dr H: I see two choices here. In very rare cases (like I can count on one hand the number I’ve personally encountered), we have to go back into surgery and search for the source of bleeding and put a stop to it. We can go ahead and do that tomorrow, or we can wait until possibly next Wednesday. I asked him his opinion, and he was hesitant to offer it just yet. Then, I spoke with as much clarity and assurance as I’d had up to that point…

Me: Dr. H….I don’t know about you, but I know God has given me a spiritual gift of discernment, and it’s one I feel I’ve been blessed with quite mightily. If I stick to my “gut” (that voice of discernment) telling me what to do, then I feel this needs to be taken care of TOMORROW.

In that moment, the surgeon (who I happened to know is a believer as well) looked at me and said, “You made the right decision!” Ahhh…sweet peace just ushered in the room…

The surgery took place on Friday. It was a complete success. The surgeon removed a baseball-sized clot from my ankle. It was causing the excessive bleeding, the horrendous pain, and who knows what else. And…had it gotten loose and traveled to other parts of my body…brain, lungs, heart…I could have very quickly joined Joel in Heaven. Yes…it was THAT serious!

I still don’t understand why I’ve been asked to walk through these various trials right now…hard and painful trials, but what I do know…I can still hear that still, small voice of God speaking to me. That, in and of itself, was huge for me, as I had been begging God to hear from Him…something…anything. I felt He had been quiet with me lately, and I desperately needed something to cling to knowing He was still with me. My faith knew it, but I was so weak and deep in grief…I needed more in that moment.

He IS still for me.

He IS still watching OVER our family.

He IS not finished with me yet.

He IS healing me!

It’s just looking a little different than I had pictured, but then again…so is my whole life, for that matter.

Thank you for your many prayers, well-wishes, tangible gifts of support, love, and concern. He is using YOU for big things. Thank you for being obedient. To keep up with current needs in our family, you can do so at a glance by clicking HERE. OR…if He leads you to do something else, follow His lead. It will never be wrong. He knows our needs better than we do.

May God bless you BIG!

#Heisstillgood

Monday, March 6, 2017

You Not Die Mommy?

Those words from my little three-year-old blonde bundle pierced my heart this morning, “You not die Mommy?”

I carried him into preschool as those very words came from his lips. I stopped in my tracks.

I’ve had some very difficult drop-offs with Austyn lately at school. He loves going there, and this didn’t happen until after Joel went to Heaven. I’ve left that place many a time with tears streaming down my face, begging God to let me just take him back home. But, God hasn’t revealed a way for that to happen yet. In the meantime, we trudged through the difficult drop off mornings.

This morning…those words illuminated my little man’s fear and pain. He might only be three-years-old, but he gets it. Loss, that is. He may not remember his birth parents, since we’ve been part of his life since he was six months old, but he remembers his adoptive daddy…the one who sang him to sleep most nights, who changed his diapers, who taught him to build things with Play-Doh, and who wrestled with him on the floor most evenings. He also remembers Daddy went to Heaven to live with Jesus 22 days ago.

And now…he wants to know if Mommy is leaving him too. It took everything in me to hold my composure when he asked me that question this morning. But, the tears are pouring now as I type these words.

The truth…I didn’t know how to answer him. If I told him the truth in that moment, would I increase his fear of losing his mommy? If I lied to him, will he one day not trust the promises I make him?

Holy Spirit…please give me the words to speak in this situation…now!

Austyn…mommy plans to be here to pick you up this afternoon. Mommy will not die until God says it’s time for me to go to Heaven, but I believe He wants me to be your Mommy for quite awhile. So, put a smile on that face, have a great day, and look forward to mommy coming to get you this afternoon!

That’s it friends…I had nothing else to offer in that moment. But, he seemed content with that response, and it was the best drop off we’ve had in the last 22 days.

Abba – please let my children know you intimately as Daddy right now, as I am simply not enough.