Is it just me?

The following scenarios have all occurred in my life over the past couple of weeks:

1. I put in an order to have three prescriptions filled at the pharmacy, two meds for Hudson and one for me. I went back three different times to pick them up. The first time nothing was ready because Hudson's doctor hadn't authorized his refills yet and they were out of my medication and had to have it sent from somewhere else. Frustrating, but I'll come back. The second time, Hudson's doctor still hadn't approved his, but they were able to give me a half fill on mine and "the other half will be ready tomorrow." The third time, Hudson's doctor had STILL not approved his order, and after working that out by a mean call to the doctor's office, I was told mine would be ready "in about 15 minutes." Great. I told them I would do my grocery shopping and come back. I returned in 30 minutes. Waiting at the counter. Waiting. Still waiting. Finally the guy asked if he could help me and after looking in the computer for a couple of minutes he responds with, "Yes, the pharmacist just needs to finish that up and it will be ready in about 15 minutes." I almost lost it. I angrily yelled, "NO! I was told 30 minutes ago it would be ready in 15 minutes!" And then this poor guy got the whole story and I informed him I would be walking out with my order in less that two minutes. And I did.
2. While we're on the issue of the medical care, I clearly have had some issues with our pediatrician's office. It seems it takes entirely too long to get bloodtest results. (I get blood drawn ALOT with my doctor and I know it does not take two weeks to get results.) And in response to the issue in #1 they said they were having problems with a new computer system and hadn't received any of the electronic refill requests from the pharmacy. Sure. Yesterday I took Hudson in for his 10 day check-up after his pneumonia diagnosis. I had a 4:00 appointment, so we all arrived promptly at 3:55. The receptionist asked his name, looked confused, and then asked when his appointment was. She searched in the computer for a bit and then said he wasn't in the schedule. She got up and went to the back. When she returned she said to me, "Dr. ____ said she will see him." (Like she was doing me some kind of huge favor.) My response: I know she will. We have a 4:00 appointment with her." And just about every time we've been in, when one of the nurses calls for one or both of my children out of the waiting room, they call out, "Ella!?" I have seen them call out other children's first names so I know they are mistakenly reading our last name (and mispronouncing it) as the first name. Doesn't seem like a huge deal but they do it Every. Single. Time. Even after I mentioned it to the doctor and she apologized (and then she referred to Harper as "Ella" in the same conversation. Incredible.) And its not even so much the issue of calling out the wrong name as it is shaking my confidence in their ability to read a medical chart. But isn't it pretty standard: "last name, first name." And then I'm going to let these people inject substances into my children's bodies?? Hmmm.
3. Scott and I went furniture shopping on Sunday, January 2nd. We found a good deal on a twin bed for     Hudson at a nice furniture store so we purchased it. The salesman said they would call when it came in, in about three weeks. If you're doing the math, this would be around January 23rd. About a week after the 23rd I hadn't heard anything, so I called to check-in. The girl told me she would send the company an email about it and get back with me.  About two more weeks go by and I still haven't heard anything back. I call again this week, February 23rd. I talked to the original salesman who seemed surprised we hadn't received it and says he'll look into it. He calls back the next day and says that the company had shipping delays when it got really cold and it should be arriving to their warehouse in 7-10 days. For those of you keeping track, that's 9 weeks after I ordered it and 6 weeks after it was supposed to arrive. And nobody deemed it necessary to call and let me know it was being delayed, or even call me back after they were looking into it. Also, I'm pretty sure the rest of the world was able to recover fairly quickly from Snowstorm '11. Not to mention (and by that I mean definitely mention) that the big ice/snow storms didn't occur until well after January 23rd. I'll keep you updated because I know you are dying to know when/if it comes in.
4. Over a week ago, I booked an appointment online at my hair salon for this Sunday at 1:00. I worked it into our day where Scott would take the kids after church, etc. The salon sent me an email to confirm, which I did. Then they texted me to confirm, to which I replied, "I'll be there!" On Friday, my phone rang with a number I didn't recognize. I answered, even though I usually don't. It was the hair place and this is our conversation:

Salon girl: Yes, I'm calling to confirm your appointment for Sunday.

Me: Yeah, I already confirmed. I'll be there.

Salon girl: OK. Would you like to come at 12:15 or 3:45? (Implying for me to pick one of these two times as my only options.)

Me: Umm, I thought my appointment was at 1:00?

Salon girl: Well, we won't have time in the schedule to finish you. There's a computer glich or something and it shouldn't have let you pick 1:00.

Doesn't it seem weird that they had me confirm in two specific ways, only to tell me I can't come then? And its just hugely inconvenient (especially when you have two kids to handoff) to have a confirmed plan you've worked out and then have to go through all the avenues to change it again. Oh, and if you're curious, I'll be arriving at 12:15 now.

Props if you're still reading after all my complaining. My point is this: I'm a nice, sweet person. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. I want to say, "Man, that stinks you're having computer issues. I know what that's like." And I try to extend grace to people because I know so much grace has been extended to me. But I feel like in our society, things will not get done properly and people will not do their jobs correctly and timely unless you become angry, demanding, and somewhat irrational in dealing with them. But when that happens, what really stinks is that I wind up looking like the bad guy! Like I'm taking things too seriously and just need to relax. But there's no value placed on a customer's time and money. On the other hand, I wonder if being really nice and forgiving and understanding to people is somehow sending the wrong message: a green light to be taken advantage of. So I'm struggling in my approach in all these scenarios. I keep trying to remember "in your anger do not sin" (Ephesians 4:26) like I always tell my kids. God gave us the emotions of anger and frustration, but its what we do with them that's the key. And I know some situations are bigger deals than others, so I'm trying to keep things in perspective. I think its OK for me to be irritated and to tell the applicable people about it. But I'm trying to make sure I don't let my emotions and sensitivity get the best of me. Even if my son graduates high school without ever getting his bed. 

Happy Birthday, Karen!!!

Today is the birthday of one of my best friends, Karen!! I was thinking yesterday, "I should do a blog post about Karen since its her birthday." But then I thought how that wouldn't have anything to do with my blog theme. But THEN I thought, "Of course it does! God has put Karen in my life as an instrument of His love in my life and to bring so much joy, even in dark times." Thus, this post.
Although I kind of knew of Karen growing up (we lived in a small town) we didn't really become friends until our junior year of high school. My really close friends in high school were through my church, and they were all in different grades than me, most of them older. God brought Karen into my life kind of out of nowhere, and I still thank Him for it! We had almost the exact same schedule our junior year, and I don't even remember how, but we became fast friends. She was an answer to prayer for a good solid girlfriend in my life! All of our other friends often said that Karen and I "shared a brain" or we were "connected at the hip." We could/can finish each other's sentences and know how the other one feels about a particular situation without having to explain it all. She's that friend. And we pretty much went everywhere together.We were there for each other through all the overly-dramatic typical high school events, and even attended the same college, Texas Tech. Even though we had different social circles in college, we were always close and stayed connected through lunches and phone dates.
Karen makes everything in life fun. Even a random trip through the McDonald's drive-thru, calculus homework, pregnancy woes, potty training...its all a good time with Karen. She laughs at everything and its contagious. I can't take myself too seriously around her because she'll call me out on it when she just starts laughing.
In high school, we had lots of  "porch nights" together. Karen lived out in the country (that's what you say when you're from a small town) with no neighbors around and it was really quiet and peaceful. I would spend the night at her house and we would grab a thick comforter and go sit on her back porch under the comforter and talk and laugh all night long. We talked about dumb stuff I'm sure, but also our dreams and desires for our husbands and marriage, what we wanted out of college, where we wanted to travel to and live, our faiths and what we thought about God. I treasure those memories and pray that my own kids have nights like those with their friends some day.
Life went on, I moved away, and we both got married. We didn't talk a ton, but when we did it was just like we had been talking everyday. My parents moved to Lubbock (where Karen lives) after I got married and then Karen's brother moved to Austin (where I live), so we started being able to visit each other a lot easier. Such a blessing! And then we both got pregnant, due 3 weeks apart! It has been such an awesome thing to go through this whole motherhood thing together, and so fun! And since becoming grown-ups I've been amazed how God has brought us even closer. We've even picked up some of the same new hobbies and get to talk about that together. Our husbands, of course, mesh well too! When I was going through a particularly tough time last fall, Karen already had her trip planned to come visit me. I think God knew that I would be needing some time with her. That's so like Him.
Now our porch nights are either on the phone or in the car while we're throwing cheerios to our kids we're hauling around in the backseat, but I'm so grateful for our times together, however brief. And grateful that God gave me Karen for a friend. She's awesome.
Here are a few pics of Karen and me. Unfortunately (for you) I haven't scanned pictures from high school onto my computer, so those will have to come at another time. Maybe for your birthday next year, Karen! And I'll even pull out the high school Cancun trip pictures. Watch out!

My sister Whitney, me, and Karen at my Bachelorette Party

Karen and me at my baby shower. We pretty much wore the same outfit, down to the shoes. Obviously.

With our babies the first time they met!

After a fun day of shopping in Austin!

Our sleepy kiddos after a visit to Sweet Berry Farm in Marble Falls, TX. (And we purchased the same carseats too, for the second time. Hudson and Keith had the exact same infant one too. 

Beautiful minds think alike!)

Our friend Kelli, me, Whitney, and Karen on my 30th birthday! My favorite girls!

I love you, Karen! And I'm so glad God made you. 

Chore Chart

Disclaimer: I'm really not as lame as this post makes me out to be.


I don't like to clean. But I do love having a clean house and the feeling I get when there's no clutter. Back when I was working at the church before we had kids, I had Fridays off. It was awesome. Since Scott and I were both working outside of the home, our house stayed pretty clean. So I would use only a couple of hours maybe every other Friday to clean the whole place. It wasn't really a big deal.
Then when I was pregnant (with twins) and still working, I was needing to really limit my activity to prevent pre-term labor. So for a Christmas present that year, Scott got me a maid to come once a month. It was actually a man maid, which for some reason is funny to me. His name was Matthew and he was a college grad who just loved to clean so he started a business called Clean Commando. I don't think he actually cleaned "commando." I hope not. But even if he did I didn't care because he was awesome! When he came for the consult, it was a little like we were filming a Saturday Night Live skit. Let's just say he takes his job very seriously. The first "initial cleaning" he told us we would need to be gone all day. He came over before 8 a.m. and Scott and I got home after a movie or something that night at 10:30 AND HE WAS STILL THERE! That's 14 hours of cleaning people, and I keep my house pretty clean. So Matthew came for several months, and I loved not having to clean my house, especially pregnant. But what I figured out was that I actually didn't appreciate the cleanliness nearly as much. I think I was looking for the same feelings of accomplishment and hard work paying off that I was used to having after my couple hours of effort. Like I would just walk in after Matthew had been there and feel some sort of gratification for all his effort. But I didn't.
Matthew continued to come for a couple of months after the kids were born. Scott and I were talking about cancelling the service, and then good ol' Matthew sent us a letter that he was raising rates (damn economy) so we bailed. A couple of months went by that were pretty tough. I was still trying to figure out how to keep two babies simultaneously satisfied, while balancing life in general. And the problem was that now our house was lived in. No more empty house sitting around all day waiting for its owners to come lay on the couches. Three people being in the house all day lead to lots more work to be done. There was constant traffic on the floors, the bathrooms got a lot more attention, and we over-doubled our laundry piles.  I noticed that things would be fine and then all the sudden I would freak out because I looked around and saw toilets that needed scrubbing, the floors were filthy, dust was everywhere, and piles of laundry were about to overtake us. It all seemed too overwhelming.
I decided that I needed to discipline myself a little. I couldn't just cruise through life for days at a time because I realized I would soon get super cranky and stressed out because all that I had put off. If I did just a little bit of housework everyday while the babies were napping, I could stay on top of it. So I created my trusty chore chart that I've been using every week for over two years. The purpose isn't to force myself to abide by some legal system, but to keep me from losing it because I've put everything off for too long. And there is definitely freedom within my system...believe me, I'm not that hard on myself. There are weeks that are busier than others, weeks where I'm not feeling great, weeks where my kid has pneumonia, weeks where we're travelling...blah blah blah. The point is just to give me a plan. I like plans.
So I divided up everything that needed to be done every week, pairing things that were less intensive to do on the same day. I'm still very much against spending our weekends doing chores, so I only did Monday-Friday.
Here it is:


Monday

• Dust furniture, picture frames, etc.
• Laundry
• H&H Clothes
• Sheets or towels, alternating weeks. (Don't worry, I still change our towels on "sheets week," I just wash all the towels every other week. Sheets don't get changed except for when I wash them every two weeks...I'm not superwoman.) 

Tuesday

• Clean floors. Usually I just vacuum and spot-mop the wood/tile. And vacuum the bedroom carpets when I get really motivated.

Wednesday

• Clean bathrooms

Thursday

• Disinfect kitchen counters and sink
• Laundry
• H&H Clothes
• S&K Clothes

Friday

• Catch-up on anything I didn't get to! (Usually finish up laundry) Get ready for a fun non-chore weekend!

I realize this sounds like I get really excited about cleaning and I spend all my time doing it. Wrong. It seriously only takes about a half-hour to do each day. The system works for me and I feel like I am way less-stressed and I don't have those freak-out moments because everything has gone awry. I feel more fun and free to enjoy my kids, husband, and home because I'm on top of my game. And that's worth it to me. It also feels better to me than having a maid because I'm teaching my kids that we take responsibility for our own things/messes. And that its a joy and privilege to take care of the home God has blessed us with. 

One thing still plaguing me: my car. At any given moment you can find chewed-on sucker sticks, sippy cup from weeks ago, school projects/papers, shoes, mail, Sonic cups, and dozens of toys scattered around the backseat. I have the whole "toy bag" but the toys never seem to make it back into the bag. So if anyone has a brilliant plan for keeping your car from becoming a pigsty, I'm all ears.

Operation No-monia

We had another first yesterday. Our first time to get an x-ray. Well, not my first x-ray. I've had a shocking array of x-ray procedures done; my favorite involving a random technician injecting radioactive dye into you-know-where only to have some kind of malfunction while I watched on the screen next to me as the balloon burst and the dye leaked into my "abdominal cavity" leading said random technician to jump up and start yelling obscenities to the point where I was in a panic trying to grab my phone and call Scott to let him know my life would be ending in just a short time. No worries, I did call and complain to the director of the establishment about the technician's extremely inappropriate behavior and later that week received a $5 Starbuck's gift card in the mail. A venti decaf cinnamon dolce latte makes up for anything, right?

But yesterday marked Hudson's first x-ray and it was pleasantly less-invasive. I took Hudson and little miss tag-a-long into the doctor yesterday morning because Hudson just wasn't shaking his fever, cough, and miserableness that had plagued him the past few days. I was worried it was the flu, and was relieved when that test came back negative. But when listening to him breathe, our doctor said his left lung sounded bubbly and he was taking quick short breaths which lead her to think he may have pneumonia. Yikes! I immediately thought we would be admitting him into the hospital for the next month or something, but she told me it wouldn't be serious because his oxygen level was still high and antibiotics should do the trick. So off we all went to the radiology place to get the x-ray. 

On the way I was really trying to build up the coolness aspect of what was about to happen, and explaining to Hudson what would take place and why. After me saying, "and we get to take a picture of the inside of your chest" Hudson asked, "And we will see Jesus in my heart?" So sweet. 

After filling out ALL the paperwork and keeping my two 2-year-olds occupied in the waiting room for just long enough, we were taken back into the room with all the big scary equipment, intimidating table and strangers wearing big heavy weird aprons. Hudson did so great! He sat really still and followed directions very well. I had signed the waiver to stay in the room with him, but when the technicians discovered I had my tag-a-long too, I had to choose between leaving my sweet, sick little guy alone while all this crazy new stuff happening to him so I could take Harper out in the hallway OR send my extremely stranger-hesitant daughter back into the waiting room with someone I'd never met (who obviously might try to steal her or hurt her, right?) so I could stay with Hudson. I decided that Hudson was going to do fine and told him they didn't have a special apron for me to wear so I had to wait right outside the door. He obliged and off Harper and I went. It was supposed to just take a couple of seconds, but after five minutes or so, the guy stepped outside and told me they were having computer problems and would have to reboot the whole system and do it all again. Joy. Anyway, it all ended up going fine, except for the fact that he had to do the whole thing two times and I had to keep everyone entertained in a boring hallway for about 20 minutes during the reboot. 

He loved the hospital gown that had spaceships and planets on it! 

Miss Tag-a-long wanted a picture too. 

It was confirmed to be pneumonia so we are still fighting a fever, cough, not-eating, and all that fun stuff and waiting for the antibiotics to take over. I'm amazed at God's grace to me while having a sick-kiddo. It's extremely more high-maintenance and demanding when they are sick. I've been up way too many hours during the night holding cold rags on his head and trying to force him to drink. I've made every single thing to eat that I can think of only to throw it all away after he picked at one bite and decided he couldn't eat it. I haven't gotten anything done this week because he's begging me to sit on the couch with him and rub his tummy. But through it all, God's grace has left me face-to-face with the sweetest spirit I could encounter. Hudson has always had a really sweet heart, but when he's sick it's like he goes into some crazy supernatural loving place. He is constantly telling me "I love you, mama" in between hacking coughs. Last night while I was stroking his burning hot head trying to get him back to sleep he raised up and said "happy valentine's day, mama." (OK, I know its not v-day anymore...I didn't say he was brilliant.) More than once when I have brought him water or juice he has offered me a drink of it and has asked both Scott and I if we are feeling ok the past few days. I'm not trying to paint a picture that its always like this. It's not. He can make me crazy. He pushes me past my limits alot. But God has allowed me to experience this ultra-sweet side of him which makes the whole sickness much more bearable. I haven't at all felt overly-tired, overwhelmed, or bitter and frustrated about not getting to do "my life." 

In 2 Corinthians 12 Paul talks about how he had been given his "thorn in his flesh" and had begged God three times to take it from him. This is the Lord's response, "My grace is sufficient for you for my power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12:9) I think God has really been showing Hudson and me what that looks like. We have been in really weak states--physically, mentally, emotionally. But God has kept us from wallowing in our states and has allowed us to experience the all-sufficient Grace he gives us to endure. 

My Fav V-Day

Scott and I started dating-ish in March of 2004, so by the time our first Valentine's Day rolled around we had already been together for almost a year, had actually already been engaged for four months, and were only two months away from our wedding. What can I say? When you know, you know. So I think we were kind of excited when V-day 2005 rolled around to finally celebrate the day with each other. The problem was that Valentine's Day fell on a Monday and I was working at my job at the church where we had our high school program, Signulls on Monday nights. No dinner date for us. And I did lunch visits to good ol' Westlake High on Mondays, so no v-day lunch date either. In fact, the way things were playing out, we probably wouldn't see each other at all. We were both disappointed, but I just played it off like I didn't care and I think we may have celebrated the weekend before or something. I actually don't remember. Ha!
But what I do remember was scheming up a brilliant, romantic, surprise breakfast plan for that Valentine's morning. Scott was living at his childhood home (his parents had already moved out to the lake, so they weren't there) and had just started his job. I decided to surprise him at his house and cook breakfast for him so we could eat together before he went to work. I pulled up in the pitch-black "morning" about 5:30 so I could wake him up early, have time to cook, and eat before he needed to leave. I knew the code to the garage so I opened the garage door and as quietly as I could, dropped all my stuff off in the kitchen. Without turning on a single light, I felt my way through the dark creepy house and headed silently upstairs to his room.
As I tip-toed slowly down the upstairs hallway, the floor boards creaked a couple of times. I stopped only to continue my journey once I knew everything was remaining dark and silent. I fumbled a little trying to get his bedroom door open in the dark, which also creaked a little. I paused again and then took my first couple of steps into his room. Now, it never once occurred to me that this might totally freak Scott out. Shrug. But all of the sudden Scott jerked up and in the deepest, scariest, most threatening voice I've ever heard come out of him yelled, "Who is it?!?! Who's in here?!?" He totally scared me to death, so I screamed and then started saying over and over, "It's me! It's just me!" He replied with an obvious frustration and fear, "Who?!" By this time I had jumped onto his bed with him and was trying to quickly remedy the situation before I mistakenly got punched in the face. (While unsuccessfully suppressing my laughter.)
The poor guy's heart was pounding about 250 beats a minute, and I think it still took him several minutes to come out of his groggy state and realize it was just me, the love of his life, who broke into his house in the dark while he was sleeping to surprise attack him. He later told me he had woken up by the floor creaking and was laying in bed with his back to the door devising his defense plan for the intruder he kept hearing. He slowly rolled over and watched through the moonlight as the attacker opened his bedroom door and got closer and closer to his bed. Creepy!!! Bless his heart! The things he puts up with! My idea had looked so good on paper. But it didn't play out as the sweet, soft, stroking his hair wake-up call I intended.
I semi-jokingly tell Scott all the time that I add so much pizazz to his life. And without my spice to throw him off kilter every now and then, his life would be so boring.  Good thing I'm married to the most patient, understanding person on the planet. Who puts up with my bad ideas, irrational moments, and good intentions. Who follows me around cleaning up my messes and who works his butt off to take care of me. I'm glad he's hung in there to love me. When he never knows what's around the corner for him. And he's surprisingly delighted to do so!
This year's V-day kicked off around 4:45 a.m. when a certain wheezy little boy joined us in our bed and coughed in our faces for 2 hours. But he also gave out lots of sweet back rubs and "I love yous" so maybe that makes up for it. Scott and I just snuggled up and laughed that apparently rough, early mornings are our Valentine's tradition. Fun.
Perhaps needless to say, Valentine's Day has kind of become the ho-hum hallmark holiday that breaks up the six weeks between mine and Scott's birthdays. We actually hate fighting the downtown crowds, rushed reservations, and the obligatory flowers/candy/cards that surround V-day. This year's plan includes the boys of our family cooking up an awesome dinner for the girls they love. And I have to say, the best thing about Valentine's Day for me is that my husband is modeling and teaching our son to excitedly honor and serve the girl you love. Year-round. And maybe I'll teach Harper the best (and worst) breaking and entering techniques.

Our 5 year wedding anniversary: April 30, 2010

Toesies

One day I'm going to miss these toes at my breakfast table.

And yes, we're still wearing Christmas jammies in February. What of it?

The Silver Lining

I've always talked about this really matter-of-factly: I have issues. I'm sure there are many, but the main one I'm referring to is my fertility...junk. I realize alot of this language sounds crazy to most of you, so forgive my casual straightforwardness. It's very normal for us to throw around words like "our cyropreserved embryos" and "intramuscular progesterone injections" as we sit around our dinner table. I know infertility brings up a lot of different emotions, all of which I have experienced: disappointment, embarrassment, jealousy, anger...but I've come to accept it as a part of the broken world we live in. Everyone has weird things about their bodies. Some people have problems with their hearts, some with their kidneys, there are joint and bone issues, vision impairments...some minor problems, some major. Our bodies are simply incredible and are outrageously complex. So I've just accepted that I have ovary issues. Particularly that my brain and my ovaries don't communicate (hormonally) "correctly" to make me ovulate. This is not a surprise to God. He wasn't shocked by this news. Sometimes we feel like our medical issues (or any perplexing matter) has the God of the universe sitting around scratching His head, wondering how this could happen. I've learned to find tremendous comfort in this truth. He made my body and is perfectly aware of what's going on at any given moment. Way more than I am. And any "brokenness" that is there is an opportunity for God to work in my life. So back to my ovary issue: Not really a big deal. Unless you're trying to have a baby.
Part of God's grace to Scott and I throughout our fertility treatments was knowing about my issue before we started trying for kids. I was somewhat prepared for a long road ahead. And since my doctor was aware as well, she didn't make us do the whole "give it a year" thing before we addressed it. More of God's grace! She gave me the lowest dose of Clomid (basic fertility drug to induce ovulation) in November 2006. It didn't do anything and at that point she referred us to a reproductive specialist. Welcome to my life, Dr. Vaughn!!
Long story short, we did lots of shots, bloodwork, ultrasounds and two IUIs with no luck. My ovaries were responding really well to the shots, actually too well and I was at a risk for high-order multiples with the IUIs, which we definitely were not comfortable with. Jon and Kate plus 8 anyone? Yeah, that turned out well. So we decided to go ahead and jump into IVF (in vitro fertilization) in May 2007 because although its MUCH more invasive, it gives you more (safe) control over the outcome. Lots more shots, ultrasounds, bloodwork and the most awful egg retrieval some of the nurses had even heard of (that deserves a blog post of its own sometime.) After the egg retrieval, you're supposed to go back 5 days later to have the embryo(s) implanted back into your uterus. Well my ovaries had hyperstimulated so bad that I basically wasn't healthy enough to do the "fresh embryo transfer." We had to cryopreserve our embryos and wait at least a month for me to recover. We decided to take a break for the summer and then went back in September 2007 and had the two most beautiful blastocysts you've ever seen implanted. And it worked!
We were richly richly blessed with two beautiful babies on May 8, 2008. I carried them to 38 weeks and they were supremely healthy. God is so good!

Some people have a hard time reconciling fertility treatments into God's plan. I can see that. I was there for awhile. If God wanted us to be parents why wouldn't He just fix my body to make it do what its supposed to do? If it really was His will, wouldn't He accomplish it in His power? Are fertility treatments just my way of taking matters into my own hands? But I think it goes back to the way God moves within (and outside of) the framework of a broken world. Anytime someone's body isn't working right, God has given us tremendous tools to seek correction, relief, healing. My body isn't doing something the way its supposed to. But Praise God that He has revealed so much of His life creation process through science, medicine, and doctors and He has allowed Scott and I to take part in that! The bottom line is that its God who creates. No amount of science, technology, or medicine can breathe the breath of life into a new being. And He has used my brokenness and messed up body to create life! I honestly feel blessed to have been so included in His creating. We got to see and pray over our babies specifically from the time they were only a few cells old. Most couple's first picture of their baby is from their first ultrasound, maybe around 8 weeks if they're lucky. We have pictures of our kids when they are just a microscopic bundle of cells. Amazing. That brings a whole other brilliance to the wonder of life! I whole-heartedly believe that God could have let us get pregnant the good-old-fashioned way. But I feel like we would have missed out on so much of what God wanted to show us, teach us, and how He wants to use us for His glory. So my encouragement is this: try to praise God for the broken areas in your life. God is redeeming them. He is going to do a mighty work through them. And while we may remain broken or at least have scars, we are blessed with glimpses of glory along the way.

New Every Morning

I’m not a morning person. I’m just not. I wish I was. It’s one of those things in life that sounds really good. I like the idea of bouncing out of bed in the morning and sitting outside on my front porch drinking coffee and basking in the stillness of the morning light. But truthfully, I’ve always dreaded the moment of the alarm going off and relish in every moment I can still lay sloth-like in bed.

Do you know who was a morning person? My Granddaddy. He would get up while it was still dark and have more done before 8 a.m. than some people (me) get done all day. My grandparents had a cabin in Ruidoso, NM for many years while I was growing up. It’s one of my favorite places of all time. I love love love it. Our family would gather there for weekends and holidays and just love being together. The bottom floor was a big open game room where all of the kids slept. Granddaddy would wake up somewhere around 5:00 and busy himself quietly until he just couldn’t wait any longer for his grandkids to FINALLY wake up. Usually around 8:00 he would not-so-quietly come downstairs and “accidentally” bang around in this storage closet trying to find something he HAD to have right then. As typical teenagers who could sleep until probably afternoon (and remember I’m not a morning person anyway) we would be slightly annoyed at his persistence in getting us out of bed. But really we just laughed and felt flattered that he honestly just loved us so much that he wanted to soak up as much time with us as he could.  

I find a ton of comfort in Lamentations 3:22-24,

²² Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, 
   for his compassions never fail. 
²³ They are new every morning; 
   great is your faithfulness. 
²⁴ I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; 
   therefore I will wait for him.”

How amazing is that to hear! God’s love for us is so great that his compassion towards us never fails and it is NEW every morning. I have this albeit cheesy picture of God being kind of like my Granddaddy was in his eagerness to lavish his love on us. Almost waiting in anticipation for our eyes to pop open so His love and compassion and faithfulness can begin again. Brand new.  We don’t have to live in yesterday’s hurts, struggles, crushed hope, disappointments, sin, failures…God has new compassion for us every morning.

Hence this blog. God has put this on my heart for awhile and I’ve been pretty hesitant. I don’t really feel like I have that much interesting stuff to say. And I definitely don’t want this to be a platform for me to broadcast to the world how perfect my family is or how cute my kids are (you know what I’m talking about.) This is a picture of the gripping journey God is taking me on: the challenges and joys of being a mom of twins, desiring and creating a marriage that is built on Christ and so much fun, our struggles with infertility, enjoying and discovering this incredible world God has created, and ultimately of me trying to embrace and live in His great love and compassions that are new every morning. No matter what yesterday was filled with.