Wow, am I feeling this post tonight. Trusting, trusting, trusting…
Prayer Request: Brooklyn’s Surgery on Wednesday
Once again, we humbly come to you and ask you to say a prayer for Miss Brooklyn, who will be having surgery on Wednesday. Thankfully, it is only foot surgery, but they are estimating it will take about 4 hours and, of course, she will have to be put under.
She will be having surgery on both feet, although they will most likely do more work on her left foot. The name of the procedure our surgeon will be performing is Posteromedial Lateral Release, which basically means she will be making Brooklyn’s feet flat and straight. Unfortunately, the Achilles tendon surgery Brooklyn had last year to flatten her feet wasn’t successful, and her clubbed feet that were corrected with the casts have started to turn in. This surgery is necessary to correct both of those things so that she will be able to properly stand and bear weight on her legs.
We also ask that you pray for Brooklyn’s recovery process, as she will have pins in her feet, as well as splints and casts on her legs for 7 weeks. We aren’t quite sure how this will go over with our little rock star, but we are hopeful that she will be her usual rock star self and “make it work”!
The good news is that once she is fully recovered, we will be measuring her for a stander, which is very exciting! Because she lacks feeling in her lower legs (below the knee), she doesn’t quite understand that she can use them to stand. But once her feet have been corrected, we will be able to teach her body what to do by using this device. What a joy it will be to see her standing on her own two feet some day…we can hardly wait! I have a feeling she is going to love being off the ground and closer to her two big sisters!
For now, Miss Brooklyn more than enjoys sitting up and playing independently. And as of last month, she can even push herself up from the ground all by herself. We are so proud of her! She isn’t attempting to crawl since her knees don’t quite want to bend the full 90 degrees, but she is starting to get curious about moving around. We are working on her core strength to help her accomplish that, but it is more likely she will “scooch” or army crawl instead of a 4-point-crawl. As with all things Spina Bifida, we will just have to wait and see!
As we prepare for Wednesday, we ask you to pray for any (or all!) of the following:
1. God’s protection during the surgery and as she comes out of the anesthesia
2. A successful and peaceful recovery process — no complications
3. God’s miraculous intervention to restore all nerve and muscle functions (We have to ask! 🙂
4. Peace for us during the surgery
5. Peace for Emma and Kendall as they spend time away from us and as they pray for their little sister
Thank you all for your continued love, support, and prayer. We cannot express how much every one of your prayers means to our family. Sending our daughter into her fourth surgery (eek!) is definitely not an easy task, but we feel God’s love and power through all of you.
We will keep you all updated on how everything goes on Wednesday. Thank you so very much, and may God bless you all!
Photo credit: Erin Olson Photography
“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Philippians 4:7
Middle
She makes me laugh, even when I shouldn’t. She can rock a leotard and cowboy boots like no one else and has a charm that oozes out of every one of her dainty features.
Her imagination and determination will take her to places far beyond both of our dreams, and those dimples will make some poor boy wonder if he ever stood a chance. (He didn’t.)
The drama — oh the drama! — is never lost on her. The more, the better. There isn’t a corner of this house she hasn’t used to prove her point, a floor board that hasn’t felt her stomp.
Her heart is sensitive, but it is big. Her love is freely given, but she is more eager to receive (a trait Mommy will watch carefully in the years to come…).
Her snuggles in the way-too-early hours are treasured and come second only to her awesome tight-around-the-neck hugs that linger just long enough to make you melt.
Sleep ain’t got nothing on her, and the excuses for her late-night ventures outside of her room usually leave us giggling and somehow promising to change Barbie into her pajamas–and tuck her in, of course.
Yes, she is victim of many middle-child parenting tendencies I promised I’d never let happen, but thankfully she is making her own mark on this world and needs little help from me.
Her voice will be heard. Her presence remembered.
I have no doubt.
Kendall, you are the child of my heart, my joy, my sunshine. Don’t ever feel forgotten or insignificant. Your light shines bright, my love, and we are all so very blessed to feel its warmth.
Different
I admit that lately I’ve been feeling like I’ve been lacking in the Mommy Mo-Jo department. I’ve been working a lot again and things have felt “off” around here. And when things feel “off” I tend to go off the deep end — over-analyzing all that went wrong, is going wrong, and may go wrong in the future — when really I probably just need a good night’s sleep.
But last night was a good night. A night that told me everything is okay and maybe, just maybe, I can be good at this Mommy thing after all.
I have said before that my Emma is a complicated child. She is passionate and expressive in many ways, but when it comes to the deep-down feelings, she tends to tuck them away. But as with all of us, I know those emotions will find their way out one way or another, so I do my best to pay attention.
I could tell something had been bothering her all week and after a little probing about why she didn’t want me to pack a rice milk box in her lunch, she revealed that she is embarrassed about her food allergies. Actually, she told me that she doesn’t understand why God made her with allergies.
Now, we’ve already had the talk about Brooklyn and why God made her the way He did (I may or may not write about that some day), but this wasn’t about Brooklyn. And, really, I loved that. As much as my mind wanted to go there, this was about Emma and only Emma. It was about her feelings about being different, which are just as important, just as real, and just as valid as the ones Brooklyn will have some day.
I know this seems obvious–and it is–but I have been worried lately that Brooklyn’s special needs have been taking priority over the girls. So it was just really, really nice to focus on Emma’s feelings. To know that I could still see them lurking beneath the surface and, more importantly, help her express them.
So last night, at her bedside, we had a nice discussion about how God makes us all different and unique, and how we should try our best to be proud of those differences. And if for some reason we don’t like or understand some of the decisions He makes, we have to choose to trust Him and focus on our blessings. We can either choose to sit in the corner and be sad about our allergies — which won’t change a darn thing — or we can choose to be happy and be thankful that we have lots of other foods we can enjoy.
She understood, cried, asked a few questions, and we ended it all with a few hugs. I honestly thought we had a Full House moment — I swear there was music playing the background — and then I asked her, “Do you feel better?”
Her response?
“Not really.”
Okay then.
But somehow I think she did feel better. And if she didn’t, I know she at least learned something. I know I did.
I can do this.
I may say the wrong things most of the time and at the wrong volume — and God knows I will certainly do my share of messing up in the future — but I am learning to see her heart. To ask the right questions. To listen.
I can do this.