Mary, Did You Know?

This song... 

Mary, did you know?

It's always been a Christmas favorite of mine. It carved even deeper into my heart when I became the mother of a boy, my 3 year old spunky, spirited Deuce. It has etched even further now, as the mother to my angel Malachi. The words have an entirely new meaning. 

Mary did you know? It makes me wonder what Mary knew about this child she carried, The Son of God. Did God shield her heart from what lay before her? Did God allow her glimpses of knowing who Jesus would be? Did God tell her she would have to do 2 incredibly difficult things in her life?; bring her Jesus into the world, then watch him die? Would she have still said yes to the angel who delivered the news to her? Would any mother choose this, knowing the things that lie ahead? 

Don't get me wrong, I am not comparing my Malachi to Mary's Jesus, I just feel a new connection to this Mother Mary. Malachi came to us as a surprise pregnancy, unexpected. But we welcomed him with open arms, so excited for him. Then our journey began, and my Malachi began to change lives. Not just mine, but countless stories of those around me who's lives have been affected by his. Lives won for the Kingdom and eternity because of him. His story is still changing lives, I hear it near weekly, stories of his impact. It helps to know these. 

Approaching Christmas, our first one without Malachi, I mourn with Mary. I wonder how she felt when she approached His first birthday without Him (what we now celebrate as Christmas) I wonder if she felt the loss the same because after all, even though He was the King of Kings, He was still her baby boy. I wonder if she rejoiced when He was remembered in the same way I do when I hear Malachi's name spoken. I wonder if His death made her long for heaven that much more, as I do. Answers I know I won't find this side of heaven, but it makes me ponder it that much more. How she felt when he was born and when she had to say goodbye, because she was human. When I imagine what she had to go through, it makes me love and admire her so much more. 

I wonder that if even God showed her all that was ahead, would she have said yes? I know I would. I know that I would have said yes to everything over and over to have those 4 months with our Malachi. I know that knowing his purpose here and seeing eternal impact makes things better, but not 100%. But I would choose it all over again. As I think Mary would. Because to know that love, to honor that love, to be a part of that kind of love; there is nothing better.

Giving Thanks

Tomorrow we face our first holiday without Malachi. Our first holiday with something missing from our family, someone missing. It doesn't feel complete. It feels daunting. The holidays are typically my favorite time of year, this year I have felt a cloud of sadness surrounding them, to the point where I want to pretend that they aren't here. That there's nothing to celebrate. Because how can I be thankful for this past year. I am learning, but it is a process. Some of the people I am around I feel comfortable crying when something hits me, I know they will let me lean on them. Others I feel like I have to hide the tears that burn my eyes so hotly for fear that they will think "she's still not over this?" "life has moved on", or just the awkwardness that it could bring as they would stand there not knowing what to do (just hug me and say you love me if this happens in your presence), it's a delicate balance. I am learning to be thankful for the mundane and the routine. You never know how precious those moments are until you can no longer have them with the ones you love, even changing a diaper has taken on a whole new sentiment. In looking back at this year, I also want to find things to be thankful for. To see things worth celebrating and not just see the devastation and the tragedy we faced. Am I thankful Malachi was born so early, No. But I am thankful that he was born. Am I thankful for the hardships of health he faced, No. But I am thankful for the hope and courage he gave me to face another day as he faced his struggles so fearlessly. Am I thankful that he passed away, absolutely not. But I am thankful for the 4 months we had with him. I am thankful that this journey has deepened my hope, faith and relationship with my creator. I am thankful for the promise of heaven. I am thankful for no longer fearing any aspect of death, because I know when that day comes I will have a smile on my face and say "I'm going to see my baby."

I miss him, so much it hurts. So much that the tears burn my eyes constantly. How I longed to put him in a cute Turkey outfit for his first Thanksgiving. To have our first holiday season as a family of 4. When someone is missing from your family, there's an air of things just not feeling "right". I wonder if that feeling fades over the years. I'm aware that though the coming years will be tough, this one we are in is the hardest. I am working to not let these emotions overwhelm me and to still maintain an attitude of thankfulness for what I do have. I have an incredible husband who loves me and our boys. I have a 3-yr old son who is the light of our lives. I often say he's the reason I get out of bed most days. He forces us to get going and he brings an immeasurable amount of joy into our home. Where I would be without him, I have no idea. He's really understanding the concepts of holidays this year and he is super excited about Christmas time, a boy after my own heart. So while we live in this dual word, one foot in joy, the other in sorrow, I am reminded that in ALL things, in ALL circumstances I have things to be thankful for. It's what Christ calls us to do..
1 Thessalonians 5:18 tells us to give thanks in ALL circumstances, not just the good and the plenty. But in the bad and in the want as well.

 I hope this season you will find thankfulness and joy in whatever circumstance you face. Whether it be the loss of a family member, stresses, etc...We can all find something to be thankful for.

Jesus, Bring The Rain...

Fall and winter have always been my favorite seasons. The brisk coolness of the morning, crunching leaves under boots, rain showers and storms that keep you inside snuggled warmly with the ones you love. It’s easy to see why fall is a favorite season. I knew the changing in seasons would be different this year. I feel like we were in a continual summer with Malachi. Hours spent in the warmth of the NICU with the sun shining through his window. As fall approached, I knew it would be hard for me. I knew it would be another sign of time moving forward without my precious one here. But summer lingered, warmth lingered, and the heat both in the air and in the searing pain in my heart, lingers. Well into October, I woke up to the sound of raindrops strumming away, the slight breeze in the air making my Malachi wind chime sing, and I knew the season was here. Fall. This morning it was official that fall has arrived. With the changing of the season, it is another reminder that time continues on, a reminder that while I linger in grief and sadness, the world and time continue to move forward. I lay in bed for a few extra minutes this morning. Listening to the rain, praying, and not wanting to leave the heat of my comforter and step into the cold air that surrounded me, the cold, refreshing air that filled my bedroom. I grudgingly came out from underneath the warm covers as my morning mom duties needed to be fulfilled. Get dressed for the day, pack Deuces lunch, wake up my sleeping prince with our morning song, snuggle a little extra with him, and off on the day we went. This change in the air not once escaping my thoughts as my sandals worn turned to boots being pulled on, every second and moment a reminder of what today was. As we drove to school Deuce and I prayed together, he talked about his baby brother, then sang songs, then talked about the fire truck that would be at school today. He is so excited to see this fire truck! As he sang and I prayed for the strength to make it through today, feeling it would be a day of sadness, after all along with the weather, today is also Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. I felt God speak to my spirit, I

felt his presence fill my car in a physical way. And he spoke to me, about the weather, about this change in season. About how, like everything, I have a choice. A choice to see it the way I have been, as melancholy and adding an extra layer of sadness, or a choice to see it with new eyes, the way He wanted me to see it. I don’t know how to describe what He told me other than to tell you what He said.

This is what he told me; 

“My sweet daughter Jamie, I know your heart is broken, I know you feel dry, I know you feel weary and I know your land feels empty. You have remained faithful to me through it all. As I bring the change of the seasons in the weather, I want to bring a change of season to your heart, to your life. As the heat has left the land barren and dry, so has your pain left your life feeling the same. But see, a change comes. The coolness in the air will bring a refreshing to your soul. The rain I pour out on this dry land of draught, let it be the rain and healing balm I pour into the broken pieces of your heart. Let me fill the cracks with my living water. Let me plant something new in you, let this time of storms be a time that something new, that you cannot see yet, take root and begin to take life. Let me water it. Let this winter be a time of deep healing for you as you walk through your darkest days. Let me spirit comfort your heart like it is wrapped in an old quilt sitting by a fire. And when spring comes, something new, something beautiful will bloom in places that once looked so barren and dry.”

WOW. My mind eased. Yes Lord, I will accept this. I will accept the seasons you have chosen for me with a renewed sense of faith that you will bring beauty from these ashes. That you DO work ALL things together for the good of those that love you. The key in what He told me was to let him. LET HIM. That means it remains my choice. My choice to stay in a land of heat and pain, or my choice to let Him do a new work. My choice is to let Him do a work, so beautiful that my mind wouldn’t be able to comprehend if He showed me right now. So deep, that it will permeate all the broken places and bring a healing like I have never known. I know it won’t be easy, I know like the winter that approaches that there will be days of storms and days of sunshine. But I will continue to move forward believing that as He pours the rain, that the same rain pours into my heart. And as he pours the sunshine, that I can enjoy those days and find happiness.

It is your choice too. To let the Father of healing into the most broken places you know. To let his living water flow through the cracks and mend your heart. To let healing come. To let Him, who is the only ones who knows how, restore you to completeness. Make that choice with me today! 

And the music stopped

What is it about music that can make it speak directly to your situation, your soul and your emotions? Music has always played an important role in my life. A specific song coming on the radio can bring back nostalgia of good memories, that summer spent underneath the stars, timeless memories. Music played a huge role in our journey with Malachi. Singing songs of praise to God became the way I coped with the good days and the bad days; when I couldn't utter another word of prayer because I was too weak, music held up my prayers to heaven as I raised my arms to my King. As a previous post mentioned, the Bethel Music album “You Make Me Brave” became my anthem album for our journey. Songs of hope and thankfulness on the days we celebrated, songs of inspiration and encouragement on the not so good days; it felt like every song on that album touched a point in our journey in a special way. And then it happened, the day the music stopped. When Malachi passed away I couldn't bear to listen to the songs I had spent hours listening to in praise and hope that he would come home to us. My heart broke with every chord and word that reflected our hearts desire for our son, that we never saw fulfilled. I couldn't bear to listen to it after he passed. It felt like promises that weren't fulfilled, a life that wasn't returned to us. How could I sing in joy and praise when my son was gone. Since he passed I haven’t been able to turn the radio on, in fear a song will play that will release the floodgates of tears, that are barely held shut as it is. I have only listened to music when played in another vehicle. Even then I tend to tune it out. Our first time back at church after Malachi passed away we made it in time for worship; worship has always been my favorite part of service, but admittedly we rarely make it on time. I didn't know how I would feel when the songs began to play….fast paced songs of praise were easy…the slower, more intimate songs of worship and love were the hardest. How do I praise Him in the most painful of tragedy a mother can experience? Tears fill my eyes as I began to sing, choked by them, all I could do was raise my hands and let my tears fall to the feet of the throne room and fall to the one who can take my anger, my pain and my tears. Praising him in the storm. Choosing to praise him in the storm. In singing the songs of worship, love and adoration I had to make a choice to continue seeing God that way. It has tested my thoughts of who God really is. Sure, I can repeat the platitudes of He is good all the time, all the time He is good, but when faced with the ultimate of heartbreak it remains my choice to believe and trust that His nature remains consistent even in the midst of my circumstance. I was faced with “do I really believe this, with my whole heart, with everything within me; that He is good?” It was my choice to answer Yes or No. This yes is the hardest yes I have ever had to say. I cannot lower my thoughts of who God is to match my pain, if I do that it undermines everything I have ever believed of His nature. I believe I can ask Him why, ask Him to show me beauty in the tragedy and ask him to put the pieces of my heart back together. Even when it is impossible to voice the songs of praise and love, I can still raise my hands to Him and He knows my heart and meets me where I am. I recently downloaded the new album from Steffany Gretzinger titled “The Undoing”….and I listened to it. The first album I have purposefully listened to since losing Malachi. Every song has touched my heart in the place of grief I am in and on my way to healing. Intimate songs of worship to a King who I believe is good in all things. An album that has met me where I am in this journey, but gives hope to the healing ahead. Music is a powerful thing. The soundtrack of life, good and downright awful.

Liquid Gold

Liquid gold. Any mother who has had a baby knows what this is. The precious breastmilk our bodies so naturally make to sustain our babies. I nursed Deuce for a year and loved it, I so looked forward to that same experience with Malachi. When he was born 14weeks early I immediately asked for a pump, much to the chagrin of the nurses. They said over and over to me that I likely would not produce... Due to him being so early, all the stress and how sick I was; it just wasn't a great combo for milk making. They. Were. Wrong. Every day of his life, every 3 hours I pumped. I pumped the liquid gold my baby needed and my body responded. Another one of Malachi's miracles. I would pump at his bedside as the nurses looked on in amazement that I continued to produce...a lot...4-5oz per session, mornings were 10oz! I pumped in cars, in rooms hidden behind mesh room dividers so a bridal party wouldn't catch me, in the middle of the night... My pump was my life source for my baby. On the days he got to have milk, I pumped. On the days he wasn't allowed to eat, I pumped. My milk was the only nutrition he ever tolerated perfectly. Over and over I was told how amazing it was that I could provide that for him. I felt it was the one thing that physically I could do for him, so I kept on. Amazingly right before he passed he was tolerating the most milk he had ever gotten and was amazing the doctors, he was one day away from being 100% on his mamas milk and off of the TPN. Due to the amount of time he wasn't able to be fed due to sickness, surgeries, etc.. I amassed quite the freezer stash of milk. For days after he passed I was angry at the milk I had, angry that it hadn't healed my baby like I wanted it too, angry that he didn't get to have it all. It felt like all my work had been so futile. Then I remembered my amazing nurses telling me one of the reasons he survived for so long was because of my milk. My milk gave me time with him, comfort to him. He loved to suck it off of q-tips and I will never forget the look on his face and eyes when he got to taste his liquid gold. His eyes would widen, his sucking would be strong and furious, and best of all he would smile. That precious beautiful smile he had even when he was so very sick. The smile that have me hope. In the midst of the storm if he could smile, so could I. The last time I pumped was the night before his memorial service. Graciously, I beleive God eased the pain of stopping pumping and I was able to stop relatively easy, with no infections or serious discomfort. That in itself was another miracle considering how long I'd pumped and how often. In tears I placed the last bag of milk into the freezer. My pumping journey was over. But the journey of Malachi's milk is not.

A few weeks after he passed I knew I wanted to donate his milk. But I had stipulations. I wanted it to be personal. I wanted whoever received it to know Malachi's story. That every time they defrosted some milk to give to their baby, that they would remember him, remember us. I wanted it to go to a baby who really needed it, preferably a preemie. I wanted his milk to mean something. I know I was being picky, but this was the situation I prayed for. Last Tuesday, this prayer was answered. It was answered in an even more beautiful way than I prayed for. Today brought the physical donation of Malachi's milk. To a mom who desperately needed it, to preemie babies, to a mom who is someone I have known for nearly my whole life. A true personal connection. As I made the drop off there were tears in both our eyes. Bittersweet tears from mine as I explained how she was an answer to prayer for me and how happy I was to bless them with it but at the same time how I was sad that Chi never got it; and tears from her telling me how I was her answer to prayer for her babies, and how she would make sure they grew up knowing about it and about Malachi's story. 

His legacy continues. Liquid gold, that helped my Malachi more than anything could have, now will help two babies who need this. 

I will never forget the time I spent pumping for my Malachi, there were days it brought me to tears, but mostly it brought me hope and peace that my body knew what he needed, and in that way, I could provide the absolute best for him. Your legacy carries on my sweet boy. I hope you smiled today as you saw the handing off of this precious liquid gold. Your story lives on and you will never be forgotten.

Year of firsts..

There something not alot of people talk about when you lose a child....The year of firsts that follow. You anticipate this year when you have a baby, eager to celebrate every "first", document the firsts with photos, and finish out the year with an over-the-top first birthday where you celebrate the amazing year your child has had. 

There's another side to firsts though...The first year of loss. The first holidays without them, first milestones you think about that should've been met, first family trips..... 

We met one of those firsts this weekend a little unexpectedly. We went camping. While it may not seem a big deal to most, camping is huge in our family. We go for quick weekends fairly often, and long weeks when we can plan it out in advance. We LOVE to camp. While Malachi was in the NICU we would often talk about taking him camping, where his first trip would be (Deuce's was Burney Falls!), would he love it as much as we, and his big brother do? We loved dreaming of his future with us in the great outdoors; camping, hiking, fishing....Our hearts break that we never got the chance to experience this. This weekend as we packed up to go, a sense of melancholy came about. Wishing he was with us. Wishing we could have this first with him, instead of just carrying him with us. Wishing we'd be waking every 2 hours to feed him and rock him back to sleep....but we went on. Carried forward in the life we know he would want us to live. Deuce had the time of his life, he loves everything and anything outdoors. In him, we find a source of joy that is unending. We love watching him explore the world around him and grow!

The first order of business when camping is to find the best sticks with daddy!

Oh those curls....be still my heart.

After finding sticks it's on to playing with your trucks in the dirt!

Next comes figuring out the tent trailer door! This was Deuces first time camping where he's big enough to go in and out on his own! That was an adventure...let's just say we're glad the door locks!

Next comes hunting for Pine-cones!

Then comes lunchtime, this day was PB&J and Cheetos (his absolute favorite, but rare treat!)

Oh my brown-eyed boy.....He can get anything from mama with those beauties! (and he knows it!)

Then comes lake time and cuddles with mommy. He didn't want to go in the water, just wanted to sit quietly with me on this rock. I love these quiet times with him, they are rare! But it's also in these times I feel the missing piece the most. Wanting to have my arms full with my two boys. Longing for the hole in my heart to be filled. But cuddles from this love bug are balm to my broken heart.

While we were sitting here a butterfly flew up to us, landed on a rock beside us and stayed for a while. Deuce said "hi 'fly fly'(butterfly)" and the butterfly fluttered around us then flew away. Maybe it was a "hello from heaven" from my Tiny Prince. I like to think so. 

and of course...we fished...

Lot's of fishing, no catching. But we still had a great time.

We are learning how to live in this year of firsts. I think we tackled the first big one for us quite well. Yes there were moments of tears and missing him and just wishing he could be here with us(I think those will always be there). But as a friend reminded me Friday afternoon, we always carry him with us, right in our hearts. 

Keep praying for us as we tackle this year of firsts.

What to do for a grieving parent

There are A LOT of articles out there on what people should NOT do or say to someone who is grieving the loss of a child. My favorites of those include: 1. Do not say “I know you will have more children” (or something like that) the child we lost can never be replaced. EVER. In this moment we are mourning and grieving him, not eagerly thinking of trying again. Please just don’t. 2. PLEASE don’t say “everything happens for a reason” – NO reason will ever be enough for a human heart to understand or accept this level of tragedy. When we get to heaven and see things only in the light of eternity and separate from our human nature, only then we might be able to understand. And 3. Do not compare/equate your pain of a loss (parent, relative, pet, job etc..) to theirs of losing their child. There is no pain like losing a child. None whatsoever, so unless you have lost a child too, please don’t try to say you know how they feel. You don’t.

Those are some big no-no’s that stick out to me, thankfully we haven’t had to deal with much of that, but nonetheless I wanted to point those out.

In talking with some of my closest friends, the conversation sometimes gets to talking about others and how they don’t know what to do for someone going through this or a similar season. So I want to give you ideas of what TO do. Things that have helped us get through this.

1. Get tangible. Tangible help. “If you need anything, I am here” is a great sentiment, but often the parents don’t have the energy or brain power to think of what they might need or to reach out for help. If someone has set up a meal train, sign up to bring a meal, call/text and offer to watch their kids if they need it (although I’ll tell you most probably won’t, all I have wanted is my living son near to me at this time), offer to clean their house and help with laundry, offer to pick kids up from school, mow their lawn, get their car washed, bring coffee over etc. Anything to ease the burden of daily tasks is helpful to parents walking through this.
2. Donate (if you can). If someone has set up a donation fund for them, any amount helps. Being off of work for an extended period of time creates what can seem like insurmountable financial hardship. Hospital bills(The average NICU cost per day, is $3000. $3000 PER DAY), late payments, gas, food, cell phone, heat, water..etc. I promise you this money does not go to waste, and bills add up very very fast. Can you imagine no income for 6 months? I promise you, any amount, no matter how big or small, helps.
3. Give grace to grieving parents to not return phone calls, texts, emails, etc. They have no energy. There are days that the energy required to get out of bed is all they have, and sometimes they can’t even get that far. If you “see” them on social media, but you have not gotten a personal response from them. Don’t take it personally. Don’t get offended. Social media can be an outlet for them to share their journey and let people know where emotionally they are at that particular day. It might take everything in them just to post something and it’s probably helpful for them to share.
4. Keep reaching out to them. Even if they don’t respond to you right away(reference above), keep reaching out. They read every text, email and listen to every voicemail. The encouraging words from someone can help them through their day. Don’t be afraid to tell them that you love them and are thinking about them. Even if you assume that they are being inundated with these kind of messages, they are always welcome. Sometimes you might be the only person who has reached out to them that day. Never undervalue the worth of a spoken word of love.
5. Don’t be afraid to talk about the child they lost with them. Let them know how his story inspired you, or helped you. Let them know how incredible their child is. Let them know how loved their child is. There will likely be tears, but knowing their child made a difference, even if you think it is minuscule, is healing balm to a broken heart. Parents are proud of their children and want to talk about them. Am I saying a 2-hour long conversation about them, probably not, but even a simple “Malachi (insert name of child) was/is so loved and cherished” has meant the world to me. If they have older living children, ask about them too.
6. If you are close with them, give them your time. Your time and support will be needed for long haul. Not just in the immediate days following their loss… but for weeks, months, years to come. If it’s time just sitting with them, talking with them. There is no time limit on the pain of losing a child, it will always be with their parents. Don’t disappear.
7. If you can’t find words to say, simply say “I am so sorry for your loss, I don’t know what to say” The parent would rather hear that honest statement, then platitudes that tend to harm more than help.
8. If you see something that reminds you of their child, if you are able to, purchase it for them and give it to them as a gift. There is no such thing to a grieving parent as to many mementos to have of their child.
9. Remember their child. In the months and years ahead. Holidays, their child’s birthday, mother’s day, father’s day. These are all painful holidays for a parent who has lost a child. One of the fears of a parent who has lost a child is that he/she will be forgotten.
10. Love them and don’t be afraid to show affection. Give them hugs, hold their hand, literally give them your shoulder to cry on, just “be” with them.

These are 10 things that have dramatically helped us in our grieving process so far. If you know someone going through the grief of losing a child, I hope this list can give you insight into what you can do to help them. Remember that nothing you say can take away their pain. But with the help of people around them they will come through their season.

***A simple edit to include of of the greatest things that has sustained us through this. Prayer. People praying for us has held us together when the words just won't come anymore. People coming around us to pray for our son's life gave us the strength to hope for one more day. Prayer for us a couple and a family treading these waters now, is what will help get us through.***

So maybe there's 11 things :)

Embracing Your Season..

I’ve thought a lot about this. Embracing the season you are in. It sounds easy enough when you are in a season of reaping and reward. In the good times thankfulness, joy and embrace seem to come naturally. Embracing the season you’re in doesn’t seem to come naturally when you’re going through the most difficult season of your life. Of course in any difficult situation or season, how you deal with it is a choice. You can choose to follow your emotions and let them overtake and overwhelm you, or you can choose to accept what has happened, feel the emotions when they come, then see what you can take from your situation to bring positivity from it.

From the day Malachi was born, I made a choice to embrace this season, whatever it would bring. I started seeing someone regularly who has immensely helped me in this process. She encouraged me to keep hope, even when things looked bleak, and she cried with me when our hearts were shattered. She encouraged me to embrace the season (though she never used those words, that’s what I took from it). I made the decision that every milestone, ounce gained, ounces lost (when he needed to lose them), successful surgery, decreased vent settings, increased milk intake…no matter how small the milestone seemed, I made the choice to celebrate them. I would often look at our nurses after getting our daily reports and repeat the good things and say “well those are good things, right? So we will celebrate!” I think they thought I was crazy sometimes; maybe they aren’t used to seeing such reckless hope. I embraced every moment I had with Malachi, moments that weren’t promised. A situation that made me embrace and cherish each and every moment I now have with our oldest son. On the days when he’s said “mommy, mommy, mommy” for the millionth time, I make the choice to embrace that moment (even when my last nerve is raw) because I know that it won’t last. That sweet little voice calling for me might not be there one day. We embraced every second we had with Malachi, the good days and the bad days. The days where we couldn’t touch him in his isolette, but would sit by him and read to him, sing to him, tell him over and over how much we loved him and how proud we were of him, I embraced, I sat for hours on end. The days I was allowed to hold him, oh those sweet and wonderful days, I took advantage and embraced every second. Holding him close to my chest, feeling him breathe, feeling his warm skin against mine was heaven to me. Heaven in our own little corner of the NICU. Watching him grow from a 25wk 5day old baby, who looked like he still belonged inside, to a 7lb “normal” looking baby, was incredible. He was beautiful. He was embraced and cherished. His season was embraced, by us (his parents) and by so many of you who prayed for him and rallied around us to keep us going. When Malachi passed away, we had another choice to make, a choice to embrace the most difficult journey of grief you can imagine. In one of the days after he passed someone had offered to me to call my doctor to get me some medication to help ‘cope’ with everything. I adamantly refused. I refused on the grounds that I wanted to feel everything. I wanted to feel my heart break, I wanted to feel the waves of grief that crashed on me, I wanted to be present in my grief, and I wanted to embrace my grief. I wanted to remember waking up in the middle of the night with my pillow already soaked with tears. I wanted to know how this felt. At the reception after Malachi’s service, I had many people telling me it would be ok if I sat down and didn’t talk or socialize much, yes that would have been ok, however, I wanted, even in the midst of that grief, to embrace the season. I wanted to stand with my husband and embrace everyone who had come to honor his life; I wanted to feel the physical expression of love that was being poured into us. I didn’t want to be a zombie just going through the emotions, sitting on the sidelines. Embracing this season, to me, has meant embracing the change that comes along with it, sharing the journey and giving ourselves grace to feel the pain and have our “emotional time-outs”. It isn’t easy. Embracing this journey to me also means knowing (and make a conscious decision) to not let the sadness and depression overtake me; it means I allow myself to have moments, and then rise. I rise with the strength of 2,000 prayer warriors holding up my arms and helping me to get through the day. I rise daily with the prayer of “Lord please give me strength for this day”. I rise with the support of my closest family/friends who have been there 24/7 since our journey began. I rise. I embrace and I rise because God wants that. He calls us to rise out of the ashes. He allows us to make beauty from these ashes. Oh how I long to know that there is beauty in my Malachi’s journey, beauty that will rise from the broken pieces of our hearts. Beauty I can see when one of the high schoolers we work with tells us how Malachi changed their life, beauty I can see when someone sends me a letter saying they are closer with the Lord because of Malachi’s journey…beauty, in the deepest grief a human heart can know.

I am also learning to embrace this new season of a ‘new normal’; I have returned to work this week, bills have to be paid, school events are happening, Deuce’s 2 yr. old needs need to be met…life continues to move forward, and I want to embrace every second. 

Maybe you are facing a daunting journey, maybe you are in a season of harvest and joy. Embrace that and learn to know what true joy feels like. Maybe you are wading through unexpected tragedy and grief, a season of sadness and sorrow. Try to see what beauty can come from the pain, embrace it. It’s not easy; it’s a choice, but a choice that leaves no regret. Even if all you can do is rise in the morning and pray “Lord, give me strength to make it through this day”, He will honor you in your season. 

Reckless Hope

The dictionary defines the word reckless as:
Reckless: utterly unconcerned about the consequences of some action.
The dictionary defines the word hope as:
Hope: Idioms "hope against hope: To continue to hope, although the outlook doesn't warrant it.

Reckless Hope. We had reckless hope for Malachi. We never lost hope that everything could turn out the way we wanted. In the face of horrible outlook, we kept believing for better things for him. When the medical community told us the challenges he would face if he were to survive, we kept hope that he would still be perfect. Because of the reckless hope we had, we learned to live in the expectancy of miracles. Maybe that's why his passing came as a "shock" to us. I say it came as a shock because we had learned to live with the expectancy and hope that he would make it through anything thrown at him, as he had done for 127 days. The morning Malachi was born, the medical staff told us it was likely he would not survive, he survived birth. When Malachi was 5 days old and we discovered his bowel had ruptured, they told us he would not survive, he survived the surgery. When he developed a bacterial infection in his abdomen and Necrotizing Enterocolitis (NEC), they told us he would not survive, he survived that surgery as well. When the medical community told us he needed surgery to connect his bowel, but it was likely he wouldn't survive that surgery, he did. The doctors met with us multiple times to tell us how sick Malachi was, what his prognosis would be if he made it out of the NICU, and gave us the option to withdraw support. After a few times of them telling us this, we made it clear to them that we had no intention if withdrawing support and to please not ask us that question again. It felt sometimes as if they didn't think we understood how sick and serious our Malachi's conditions were. We just explained to the best of our ability that we were choosing to live with hope, and that whatever God had planned for our son, we nor them could change that outcome. Maybe they thought we were reckless because they know statistics, we reminded them time and time again how Malachi had already beaten so many. We had reckless hope, in the bleakest outlook that he would be ok. When we were told that his heart condition had significantly worsened over a period of 3 weeks, we believed with a reckless hope that he would be ok and beat this, as he had all the prior issues. It blindsided us that he didn't. I believed wholeheartedly that he could make it through anything. Some would probably say we were reckless because we believed so much that he would be fine that we never prepared to say goodbye to him. Honestly, I don't know how anyone, even knowingly, would be able to prepare for that. Maybe they think it would've been easier had we just accepted what they told us and let him go earlier. I don't think it would've been. One of our incredible nurses talked with me one day about what would happen if he suddenly started to decline, when you're in this situation these are the conversations that happen, she said that they can usually always get a heartbeat back with medication, and then the parents usually have to make a choice to 'let them go' 'stop working on him' etc. That night LaRon and I prayed that if it came to that, that God wouldn't let us make that decision. That God would. And mercifully, He did.

We don't regret for a second living with reckless hope and with the expectation of miracles, even though the outcome was not what we wanted.

I'm GLAD, THANKFUL & GRATEFUL that we lived like that for him. That we lived with an expectancy of miracles for his life. It forced us to not be constantly thinking about if/when he would pass away. It let us savor each moment with him. It let us not see him as declining in health, but instead allowed us to savor every small step in the right direction and every miracle along the way. It allowed us precious, precious time with him. Time to see him grow, see him smile, watch a personality develop, time to get to know our son. Hope, a reckless hope, anchored us through those storms. It allowed us to come to a place of worship and thankfulness to God for the life He entrusted us with. Malachi's life & Malachi's legacy.

Whatever you are facing today, I dare you to live with a reckless hope for your situation. I dare you to see the beauty in each moment. And I dare you to live in expectancy of miracles.

Yes our hearts were shattered that things didn't turn out the way we wanted them to, but we learned to live so fully and so abandoned to Jesus, that I am grateful I know how to live like that now. I am grateful I know what it means to FULLY trust Him with every piece of my life. I am thankful for the time he gave us with Malachi. And I am thankful for the promise that I will see my Chi again, whole, healthy, full of Life.

Live with a Reckless Hope. Though others might think you are crazy or irresponsible, you will never regret learning to live a life of Reckless Hope and in Expectancy of Miracles.

The most beautiful service I never wanted to attend...

Malachi's service to celebrate his life was the most beautiful service I have attended. The most beautiful service I never wanted to attend. No parent should know the agony of what it is like to attend your baby's memorial service. I vividly recall sitting in the "family" room waiting for it to begin. Uncontrollable sobs wretched my body and I felt like my heart was going to explode. There were times I forgot to breathe. Getting up to enter the service I nearly collapsed. This couldn't be reality, this isn't happening, I just wanted to wake up from this nightmare. My husband nearly had to drag me through the doors. He held me up as sunglasses shielded my eyes and I walked the aisle. The same aisle we had walked to take our vows. The aisle where our life together really began, and the aisle where our "for better or worse" was tested to the limit. My gaze lifted from the floor and from behind shielded eyes I saw everyone who had come to celebrate my beautiful Malachi's life. Hundreds came. To honor us, to honor him and his memory, to remember him, to comfort us, to support us and to let us know most of all, we were not alone. Soft music played. A beautiful photograph taken of us in our final moments with Malachi was displayed. His favorite books, tiny hats he wore, blankets lovingly made for him and the squeaky toys from his nurses he loved so much were all displayed. His things. I clutched the blanket I held him for the first time with and for the last time close, along with a beautiful photograph a friend had framed. I still cannot believe this is happening. The service was opened, a reading of the verse we had chosen to represent him was read (Hebrews 6:19), worship music began to play and be sung. The hardest worship I have ever done. How can you worship God, who called your baby home and away from your arms? "Oh how He loves us" filled the air, and my husband arose with lifted hands and tears streaming down his face and showed me, how in this impossibly difficult circumstance, we can still arise to trust God and worship him. Even when the words won't come because you are choked with tears, God still knows our heart. "He's got the whole world in His hands.....He's got Malachi James in His hands"...I broke further. The pieces of my shattered heart felt like they broke even more. This is real. My Malachi is gone, we are having a service to honor his life. A slideshow played, the most hauntingly beautiful song "..tell me my love, is heaven beautiful?.." photographs of a life with so much impact..more tears, wretching/painful/excruciating tears, I realize there would be no more pictures, no more moments with my Chi..A poem/letter was read on behalf of my sister-in-love who was out on the mission field. Words of how she had longed to meet him, yet how much he inspired her and how much she loved him. My heart breaks further for our family members who never got a chance to meet this beautiful soul in person. If only he could've made it 20 more days. Why now God? A friend who has become like a sister to me (and even that doesn't appear to be a good enough title for who she is to me) spoke on mine and LaRon's behalf. The most beautiful words spoken, so honoring to the legacy my Malachi leaves with us. I had asked her to honor his nurses specifically. She knew how much they meant to me and the words were perfect and as they were named individually, applause filled the air. I would've applauded them for hours for them to know how much they mean to me. After all, aside from me and LaRon, they knew him best. They were my constant connection to my angel. His eulogy was read, my own words to honor his life, how do you sit through hearing "he is survived by...." This can't be real. Our Pastor, Rick Cole, took the podium and delivered the greatest sermon, through tear filled eyes. A sermon of hope. A sermon of holding onto that hope. "sometimes our treasures get there (heaven) ahead of us; I think that's something worth holding onto..." Truth. Hope in the midst of the darkest circumstance we have ever faced. Hope that anchors us. Then it was over. complete, closed with prayer. We walked back out of the sanctuary into the reception. Friends and family wanted me to sit down, to eat, oh how I have the greatest support around me. All I wanted to do, though, was join my husband in hugging, crying with, and thanking all those that came to honor Malachi's life. So I did. We stood together, united. It felt right. Memories were shared, stories shared to us of the impact he'd had, love was overflowing to us. At the end of the reception we did a balloon release. Light blue, because our Malachi's eyes were turning blue and they were beautiful. Balloons floated high, wishes, memories, messages going with them. Tears again. It was over.
We have heard from many that Malachi's service was so impacting, life changing and beautiful. We are so thankful that even in his passing, his life continues to touch so many. It helps us to know that this journey has not been in vain. Everything about his service was [horribly] perfect. Perfectly chosen program design, words, music and mementos to remember a life gone too soon.
Thank you to everyone who was able to be with us that day, and everyone who was with us in spirit to help celebrate the life of our tiny warrior. We will hold those memories forever.
It truly was the most beautiful service, that I never wanted to attend.

That night..

Our new reality is life without one of our sons here on earth. It is hard, it is physically painful [I know what a physically broken heart feels like], it is exhausting, it is excruciating. I don't think we were prepared to lose him. We had some amazing days with him and everything seemed to be going in the right direction, even though they were the tiniest of baby steps. Then a Friday morning came with a 5am phone call from the hospital that Malachi had coded, but they were able to get him back and he was doing 'ok'. The rest of that day included doctor visits from pulmonology, ultrasound (for an echo cardiogram), cardiology, and ultimately the chief neonatologist. The chief informed us that the echo had shown that Malachi's pulmonary hypertension had severely worsened since his last echo 2 weeks prior, even the cardiologist was shocked at how much worse it had gotten. His heart was severely enlarged and not effectively pumping blood through his body. The doctor told us they just didn't know what this meant. Sometimes this issue heals with time and other times it does not and leads to death. There is no specific treatment, there was nothing they could've done even if they had seen it earlier than when they did. LaRon and I spent a lot of time together with our baby boy that Friday. We prayed over him, for one MORE miracle, we kissed him, we read him his books, we held his hands, kissed his perfect face and features, told him how much he was loved, then went home to our 2 yr old. 3:12am my phone rang, the nurse told me Malachi was coding and we needed to get to the hospital. The rush ensued, we left the house in record time. 3:23am my phone rings again, the hospital, I think a part of me knew what was happening, I didn't want to answer it. I did. The doctor with the most heartbreaking, earth shattering, faith testing, horrible news a parent could ever receive. All I remember her saying was "I'm so sorry Mrs.Gordon, I have some sad news..." she was gentle [as can be], I shattered into a million pieces. I remember screaming "no, no, no" over and over and over. The ride was a complete blur. We got to the hospital and to his room, I saw him and collapsed, LaRon helped me up. They had a private room for us that they took us to, then they placed him in my arms. For the first time I got to hold him, like 'normal', and see him without all the tubes and wires and beeping of machines. He was beautiful and perfect in every way. Immediately family came to be with us and to say goodbye. Nurses that had become a part of our family came to grieve with us. There were a ton of tears. Who am I kidding, there still are. We spent hours with him. One set of Malachi's godparents had taken Deuce for us, and towards the end of our time they brought him to the hospital. A moment I had wanted for so long about to take place, a moment I had wished for every day of this journey, but a moment I hated was happening that way. The 4 of us would finally all be together. Deuce would get to 'meet' his baby brother for the first time. Deuce was so sweet with him. So incredibly sweet. He knew who Malachi was and kept saying "that's baby Chi" (he's the one who nicknamed him, even before he was born). I was holding Malachi and Deuce was on LaRon's lap next to me. Deuce pointed at his nose, eyes, ears, and mouth (he's very into naming these) then kissed his forehead and gave his baby brother loves. It's a moment I will treasure forever. The first moment I felt we had really become a family of 4. I think the second hardest part to getting "the phone call" was when it came time to leave the hospital, with empty arms, to kiss his perfect face one last time and lay him in a crib and walk away. Arms now empty and aching to hold him just one more time. A few days later we had a beautiful memorial service for our Malachi. Hundreds came to celebrate his incredible, yet too short life(I'll blog about that in the next post).
The words of love and encouragement that have come to us have been incredible. The stories of how Malachi touched so many lives are what holds us up and helps us to know that this journey was not in vain, we received a card from a family member today saying that Malachi's journey had brought her family back to prayer and back to The Lord, a Kingdom Changer our Malachi was/is. LaRon and I were even able to find some miracles in this horrible circumstance. Our baby boy has received his ultimate healing, he is no longer suffering or in pain, there are no more surgeries to endure, and he is being held by a greater love than even I have for him. He entered heaven completely pure and blameless, few can say that. Heaven trumpeted his arrival and the book of life didn't even have to be checked for his name, how incredible. A gracious miracle LaRon and I are also thankful for is that The Lord took him immediately, there was no suffering, his heart just stopped and never came back beating, we didn't have to make any decisions as parents as to stop care or for them to stop trying to bring him back. That is something that early in this journey we had prayed that if this situation came that The Lord would take him immediately and we would never have to choose. The Lord is gracious, and kind. We are comforted in knowing that God knows what our broken hearts feel like, as his son had to die too. We are confident that God will stitch the broken pieces back together, and even though it will never again look the same we know God will bring healing to our family.

Why Me?

There have been multiple, multiple, and did I say MULTIPLE times along our journey with Malachi that I have gotten mad, angry and have asked [OK, yelled, screamed, cried out] 

WHY ME?

WHY US?

WHY OUR FAMILY?

WHY MUST MY BABY SUFFER?

We are good people. We attend and are involved in church, we pray, strive to live our lives righteously, give back. Why would you [God] allow this to happen to us? Many anguished nights I have fallen asleep wondering the why. I know that's a question that I will likely never know an earthly answer to, and I have to be okay with that. I have to be okay with that because me not being okay with it indicates a lack of trust. For if I really trusted Jesus with the life of my child, I would trust every step He has in place. EVERY step. Even if they are steps I don't understand. And so I do. I trust Him because in a time that can cause so much chaos and confusion, He is the constant source of strength and hope I can return to. 

These past 2 weeks have been the ultimate roller coaster. Malachi had the surgery to fully reconnect his gut, and for a few days afterward appeared to be doing good. Emotional highs of his surgery going well and him appearing to progress. Then he started to get sick. Sick as in retaining a lot, and I mean A LOT of fluid. He gained around 3 pounds of FLUID. Imagine as an adult gaining half your body weight in fluid in a matter of days. Every inch of him was swollen. Then his lungs filled with fluid. He was miserably uncomfortable and was placed on an constant IV drip of pain medication and a sedative to keep him as calm as possible. His ventilation requirements had to increase. His oxygen support was at times 80% PLUS. That is incredibly high, room air is only around 21%. The doctors told us there was nothing more they could do. Many times in the last two weeks we have been told he would not make it through this. We went from the emotional high of his gut was FINALLY whole to being told he is likely going to die. My baby. One night last week, I can't remember which as my days all kind of blend together and are a blur, I was praying for my Malachi. On my knees, in my room, crying out from a desperate mother's heart for God to perform another miracle for my baby boy. "God you have brought him this far, keep doing your thing, prove them all wrong!" I demanded God to work, to move. In this prayer session I came back to the "Why Me, him, us" questions. I prayed for an answer. In that moment I felt the voice of the Lord say to me.

 "Jamie.....why not you."

 "why not give this precious, amazing, miracle child to a couple who will glorify my name for every small step in the right direction?"
"why not give this child to a couple who will never stop loving him and believing in him, and Me, even in the face of every doctors worst prognosis."

"why not reveal the deepness of my love for you through Malachi's miraculous birth and life"

"why not choose a couple who will use Malachi's story to impact so many"

"Jamie....why not you?"

Emotion flooded me. I began to thank God for entrusting to LaRon and I one of His most beautiful treasures, I began to thank Him over and over for every single miracle that has been performed in Malachi's life. I began to thank Him for every life my baby boy has touched without even saying a word. I began to thank him for this trial that is deepening our faith in a way few know. I began to thank Him for the opportunity to be a light in that NICU and being able to connect and pray and believe with other parents. 

I BEGAN TO THANK HIM FOR ALL OF THIS. 

Once my perspective changed, my whole outlook on our situation changed. The Lord has heard every prayer for my Malachi. Every body system that has been prayed over, He knows. He has listened and His work has been continuing. I began to simply pray prayers of thanksgiving to Him. Thanking the Lord for Malachi's life, for every second we get with him, for EVERY person (including YOU) who has prayed for him, for every nurse who has fought for him, loved him and comforted him. You could call it coincidence, but when the prayers shifted to me having an attitude of thanksgiving, rather than being a victim. Malachi's life shifted....the fluid began to come off, a new doctor with a new tactic came on for him this week, I was able to hold him, he has steadily improved daily this week. And while I know we are not "out of the woods" yet, I know that God is directing every step, so in every step I will say Thank You.

If you are going through a situation, asking God "why me?" listen for His answer. It may not come in the same why mine came, but if you can shift from the victim mentality to thanking Him, your life will be altered. Your situation will be altered. No matter how horrendous it seems, God can use anything for good.
Anything.

So....

Why Not Me?

Incomplete

When people ask how I am today. The first word that pops into my head is "I feel incomplete". I've never said that, but that's how I feel.
The first few months after Malachi was born I kept feeling like "I should still be pregnant" "I should be setting up his room, having a baby shower, preparing for him to come home." It was a definite mourning process to get through all of that. I grieved the loss of all the "typical" pregnancy things that I missed out on. I SERIOUSLY grieved. Then his due date came. And oh that day was hard. So hard. He was due on Father's Day this year. I tried so hard to not let the emotions of that overwhelm me and take away from celebrating the 3 amazing fathers in my life. My Husband, my daddy and my father-in-love(law). I had some moments but overall made it through the day ok.
Now that his due date has passed, I feel that the mourning and grieving for what I lost in that time has lessened. I still feel sadness over missing out on so much but it's definitely less that in was before. Now though, the feeling I am left with is being incomplete. I feel incomplete because now is the time I should be basking in the newborn glow, smelling his hair as we cuddle, being up with him all hours of the night, the pure exhaustion that follows, and figuring out our new life as a family of four. I don't have any of that, I haven't gotten to have any of that. Instead I have become all to familiar with the sounds, sights and smells of the NICU: The constant beeping of monitors, the constant specialists coming in to examine him, the multiple surgeries, being told over and over the outlook does not look good.
How I wish I were having sleepless nights due to the cries of a newborn, but my sleeplessness now is due to anxiety of how my little one is doing. I sleep light in anticipation of my phone ringing. The anxiety is sometimes overwhelming. I could physically sleep for 12 hours, but wake up feeling like I haven't slept a wink.
Life also feels incomplete because, while we are technically a family of 4, I still feel like we are a family of 3 and we are caught in this weird limbo. We haven't been able to fully welcome Malachi into our family, our home and our daily life. He is separated from us. I shy away from taking photos of my family right now because I look at them with sadness because I feel we are incomplete. It is a weird existence. Deuce has yet to meet his baby brother[because of his age he is not allowed into the NICU]. I am thankful for his age, as I feel his age and naivete has sheltered him from all of the stress this has brought on us, but it saddens me that he hasn't gotten to be a big brother yet to Malachi.
My broken heart yearns for the day I will feel complete with my Malachi home.

Brave.

"You make me Brave, you call me out beyond the shore into the waves. You make me brave, no fear can hinder now the promises you've made."

This CD was given to me around Mother's Day by a dear friend. It has since become my anthem, my song I sing when I don't feel like I can be brave anymore. My hearts cry when everything around us is "bad news". If you are looking for inspired, uplifiting, encouraging, prophetic worship. GET THIS ALBUM. NOW.

We didn't ask for this journey. We were called into it. Unlike callings people feel they have on their life that they need to take action to pursue, we were not given choice. He called us into the waves, the storm, and He has made us brave. 

The dictionary defines brave as: 

Brave; (verb) Enduring or facing danger or pain, with no fear.

The no fear part is hard. The no fear part is hard when the future is uncertain. The no fear part is hard when you are consistently told by medical professionals that it doesn't look good, that your son will not survive. The no fear part is the most difficult part of 'being brave'.

Most days I don't feel brave. Most days I feel weary. I feel scared. I feel helpless watching my baby suffer. 

So what is brave to me? 

Brave to me is waking up daily and facing your child being so sick.

Brave is walking hospital corridors and sitting by his bedside for hours just so he knows I am there.

Brave is asking for help when we need it. (that is hard!)

Brave is having to trust God completely with your child's life. 

Brave is resuming normal life activities and facing the questions head on.

Another line of a song on this CD goes:

 "be still my soul and trust in Him, the waves and wind still know His name"

How amazing is that. The wind and waves still listen to Him. I know that He can heal my Malachi. I know that He is sovereign. I know that despite all we have been through, HE is good. 

And HE is the one who makes me Brave. He is the one who I cling to. He gives me the strength to face each new day. He gives me the endurance to fight for my baby. No matter what the outcome of our situation, I know my Malachi will be Ok. Because as God has made me brave, He makes Malachi brave. Brave to face more than any of us will ever face in our life. Brave to fight daily for his life. Brave to not give up, even when every odd is against him. 

Malachi is my hero. The bravery I see in him comes only from God and is my inspiration.

Sickness.

Sickness. A few weeks ago the doctors began to tell us that our Malachi was very very sick. He was showing signs of infection, started on antibiotics and multiple tests began to be run. As the days went by he began to get worse. The doctors kept saying "We need you to understand how sick your son is". All the tests came back negative, no infection. Relief for a moment, but then the question; why was he sick? We began to ask the doctors this, "you are saying he is sick, but why?" "all the tests have been negative, why is he sick?" After days of asking this and not getting any solid responses, the chief neonatologist finally sat down with LaRon and I and explained what he meant by sick. He meant that our Malachi is sick in the sense that he was born at 25 weeks, he was sick because not only was he born at 25 weeks but he was born with a blocked bowel, he was sick because not only was he born at 25 weeks with a blocked bowel but that bowel perforated when he was 5 days old. He is sick because he has been on TPN (Total Parenteral Nutrition) since birth. TPN, while life sustaining, is also very damaging to the liver. Now because of the nutrition he needs from the TPN, his liver is sick and failing. Because his liver is sick and failing, because of the TPN, he has developed the bad type (not the normal newborn type) of Jaundice as a result of HIGH direct bilirubin levels, he is orange=yellow [Literally] and the whites of his eye are yellowed. Because he has been on the TPN his bones have not yet mineralized which has lead to a diagnosis of osteopenia. Because of the osteopenia he has endured numerous painful fractures in his legs and arms. Because of all of this his body is working extra hard to try and heal, so he has not yet learned to breathe on his own and is still on a ventilator. My baby is sick. I realized when we were asking the doctors why he was sick, we were looking for them to tell us that he had something specific they could cure with a medicine or treatment. This is not the case for my Malachi, this was what we had to come to terms with. His "sickness" was not something that anything specific could heal. He began to reject his feedings, which are still being done through a tube, so they backed off. He's now at 4mls of breastmilk every hour. A baby his size should be at at least 10. The TPN has not been able to be lowered. We were at a place of complete desperation and reliance on God for a miracle. He had a very rough couple of weeks. He began to have apnea(stopping breathing) and bradycardia(heart rate slowing) episodes. "A's and B's" as they're referred to in the NICU. His were bad. One was really bad, I mean REALLY bad. We got "that" phone call. But he pulled through, he is a fighter. The doctors said he was likely getting tired, tired of the fight and the pain. Then a few settings on his ventilator were adjusted, his doctor decided to try a medication for his liver that they didn't think would work but thought "hey let's give it a shot", and the surgeons started a technique of feeding that is fairly uncommon to try and get him optimal nutrition. He stabilized a bit over the past few days. He has had no "A&B" episodes [PRAISE THE LORD], he has tolerated his feedings well [AND HE POOPED THANKS TO THE TECHNIQUE BEING USED WITH HIM], we also got results of his weekly labs today that some of the liver enzymes have gone down along with the lab that indicates if his bones are healing, tomorrow we will see where his direct bilirubin level is and we are praying that is down as well. He has been scheduled for his [hopefully] final gut surgery on Friday. This surgery will reconnect his intestines so his digestive system will be completely intact. We are prayerful and hopeful this will lead to good nutrition for him...which should lead to his liver healing...and his bones strengthening. I know he is in the best hands, because Jesus holds him so tight.

When we finally accepted our Malachi's 'sickness' for what is was an not something that would be fixed overnight. It began to resonate with me. I think so many people are looking for the quick fix and the quick solution in life to make things better. Instead of going on the long road and fixing all the underlying issues, a lot of people want a one-stop solution. Malachi's journey has taught me to look for the causes of the way I am feeling and to deal with those. Only when we can look deeper into ourselves and begin to heal the cause/roots of our 'sickness' can we be on the road to complete and total healing.

Heartbreak and Thanksgiving..

How are you? - probably the most used question in each of our lives. Its a question that can either be a superficial gesture of greeting or it can be a genuine deeper question of someone deeply wanting know how you are doing. The answers can range the same from superficial to completely loaded.

When you are going through a trial this question ALWAYS feels loaded. You wonder how to answer, you wonder if you need to censor yourself, you wonder if someone is being genuine or being nosy.
Nowadays I answer this mostly with "I'm ok", it's a rare day I answer with an "I'm good". Things are always day to day....

Today, I am sad. Today is June 1st, today marks the beginning of the month Malachi was expected to arrive. Today marks 2 weeks until his due date [June 15]. This past weekend has been full of events, though joyous, that have reminded me that I was supposed to be enormously pregnant right now. I am really feeling the mourning of the loss of the latter half of my pregnancy with Malachi. I am feeling the weight and enormity of our situation. I am feeling heartbreak. So if I were to be completely honest when someone asked how I was, my answer today would be "I am heartbroken."

I am heartbroken because I want to be putting finishing touches on a nursery, not hoping to one day be putting one together.
I am heartbroken because I want to be folding the tiniest of laundry to fill dresser drawers, not washing blankets to take to the NICU so my tiny prince has a piece of home with him.
I am heartbroken because I want to be having contingency plans in place for who will watch Deuce when I go into labor, not planning out the whens and how longs of daily hospital visits.
I am heartbroken that instead of having the VBAC (Vaginal Birth After Cesarean) I wanted so badly, that I had to have an emergency c-section to save mine and my Malachi's life.
I am heartbroken that Deuce won't have the coming to the hospital after the birth to meet his baby brother experience, and that I have had hospital staff tell me he can "meet" Malachi through a window.
I am heartbroken that Friday (May 30) should've been my last day of work, instead I am faced with returning to work while my baby is still in the hospital.
My heart is broken. Broken for everything we lost when Malachi came so early. Broken for the plans we had being crushed. Broken for the future we planned for our family now being so uncertain. Broken for our world completely turned upside down.

In my brokenness though, I am thankful.
I am thankful I am alive!
I am thankful for modern medicine that has kept my Malachi alive!
I am thankful for even the tiniest of miracles in his life!
I am thankful for a husband, who's unwavering faith and strength have kept me going!
I am thankful for the ARMY of people who have surrounded us with support!
I am thankful for my "mat carriers" that have been available to me 24/7!
I am thankful for a God who takes every piece of a broken heart and stitches it back together. It will never be as it was before.
I am thankful for a God who has caught every tear I have cried and who will catch every tear I will cry.

In the midst of my pain and heartbreak, I can still find something to be thankful for.
And a thankful heart is what God asks us to come to him with. So I will start each day thanking him for every blessing in this life and I will continue to thank Him, no matter what heartbreak comes my way!

Malachi's Birthday.

Malachi "Chi"(kye) James Gordon was born on March 7, 2014. 14 weeks and 2 days prior to when he was expected. "Expected arrival date" only to us, but not to God. God knew he would come early. God knew the struggles he and we, as his parents, would face. God also knew someone in the world needed to see what a miracle really looks like. God knew somewhere, someone would be encouraged by the growth of our faith and by Malachi's strength and perseverance through this journey. And God has never left our side since this journey began.

Romans 5:3-5 But we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

A lot of people know Malachi came early, and have followed along his journey, this story is about why he came so early. I want to share this because this story explicitly shows the steps God ordered in my life to save both Malachi's life and my own.

At our 20 week ultrasound we were excited to see our baby boy. We had known he was a boy for a few weeks and loved every glimpse we had of him. My sister even came with us and watched in amazement as our little man wiggled around and sucked his thumb. A few days after my appointment I received an email from my doctor stating that the ultrasound looked good but the radiologist had though there was a tiny bit of fluid around Malachi's heart. She had me schedule a follow up ultrasound for 4wks later. At my appointment after the 20wk ultrasound my doctor assured me everything looked fine, but to still go to the follow up "just to be sure". A conservative follow up she had said. She also stated Malachi looked a little small but she wasn't very concerned because my full term baby (Deuce) was ony 5lbs 6oz at birth. I went home confident things were great. The week prior to the follow up ultrasound (scheduled for March 3rd) I wasn't feeling well. I couldn't describe how I felt but something was 'off'. Tuesday of that week I began to have pain in my right upper abdomen, under my ribcage. It hurt to breathe, to walk, to lie down, to do anything. I took some tylenol and it alleviated it to a point that I could function and it was more of a nuisance. Wed it was worse and by Thursday I was in a staff meeting at my workplace with my head on the table because I felt so lousy. I even attempted to go to my girls' soccer practice that afternoon and my other coach took one look at me and told me to go home. I went home and made an appointment to be seen on Friday. Thursday night I went to bed and woke up Friday morning and the pain was GONE. Horray! I even cancelled my appointment because I felt so great. Besides, I figured I had an ultrasound appointment the following Tuesday so I'd already be going there in case I started to feel lousy again. The weekend was great. I was feeling good. Tuesday came around and it was time for the follow up ultrasound, LaRon had taken the day off to come with me. The ultrasound started and the tech asked why we were there, I said to follow up on his heart. She said his heart looked great and normal, no fluid. **EXHALE** we were good and going to head home, we thought. She began to do some other measurements and make some comments about his size. Then she began to ask some 'weird' questions to us such as "have you guys been seen in L&D yet?", "have they checked you yet?"..our answers were "no". She then said she needed to have the radiologist look at things before we left and left the room. LaRon and I looked at each other with a bit of confusion..and we waited..what seemed like hours..finally the tech came back and told us we needed to go to L&D to be checked. So we headed that way. I vividly remember walking down the hall thinking "I am going to be so late for work, what the heck". I told LaRon I was worried. He said everything was going to be ok. We got to L&D and the flurry around us began. I was immediately admitted (even though I still didn't know what was happening) and placed on monitors. Fear began to rise (along with my blood pressure) and I began to have a bit of a freak out, i had no clue what was going on and kept hearing about me being admitted, high risk, etc... A wonderful nurse we know personally happened to be working that day and came into our room and immediately called the doctors to come and talk to us. The doctor finally came and did her own ultrasound in the room and let us "IN" on what was happening. There was a blood flow issue in our son's umbilical cord. That is likely why he is so small and I would be admitted for continual monitoring of this for at least 48hrs. 48hrs, "Ok" I thought "I can do 48hrs in the hospital". I was admitted to a hospital room and hooked up to multiple monitors, I was given steroid shots for Malachi's lungs, IV's were put in, and eventually that day was told I wouldn't just be there for 48hrs, I would be there until I delivered my son. What a life changing few hours. That night LaRon stayed with my and Deuce went to my in-laws house. IT was a lot to process. How could I be in the hospital for 14 weeks with my two year old and husband at home. I was scared. The following day I was placed on a 12 hour Magnesium drip for neural protectant for Malachi. GAH that stuff is awful. AWFUL. There was a parade of people in and out of our room the high risk doctors came to look at me and did another ultrasound confirming the cord issue, a neonatologist came to speak to LaRon and I about what we should expect if we were to deliver this early, genetics came and took blood for testing. And MY OB came just to check on me and see if I was OK, I have a great relationship with her and she was so reassuring, and so glad she had made the 'conservative' follow up for us. We found out this cord issue is an issue that a lot of times goes unnoticed and typically ends in stillbirth. It wasn't to bad for Malachi yet, but they wanted me there for continual monitoring so that when it got to the point of being really bad, they could deliver him. Deuce came to see me that evening after school. He knew something was wrong. In his sweet 2yr old voice he said "My MOMMY!" When he first saw me then climbed into my hospital bed and cuddled with me. The best cuddles ever. I knew we'd have to get used to this 'new normal' for us. When Deuce left it was heartbreaking, he didn't want to let me go and kept saying "mommy we go" "mommy we go" and was pulling me towards the door. It shattered my heart that he had be separated from me. I cried into LaRon's shoulder and he stayed the night again. Thursday was a quieter day, monitoring, doctors checks, nothing had really changed. We decided it would be best for LaRon to be home with Deuce so that he could feel some security in this chaos. That evening LaRon left for home and a couple of my girlfriends came to hang out with me for a while. The superintendent of the school LaRon teaches at and I coach at came to pray and talk with me. Everything was good, calm. I was learning how to sleep through the hospital noises and every 4hr lab blood draws. I was finally coming to terms with being there for so long and resolved I would do anything for my baby so this was just how it was going to be. Thursday night I went to sleep. I woke around 2am with pain under my right rib-cage, exactly like what I had the week before, but this time it was worse. I rang for my nurse. I tried to describe to her that it felt like my ribs were being squeezed from the inside, it hurt to breathe, move, everything. She gave me some pain medicine after it wasn't getting better for a while and immediately it took the pain away, more labs were taken, and I went back to sleep. I was woken at 4am by a high risk doctor and my nurse informing me they were going to do an MRI to see if my gallbladder was acting up, they also took more blood for labs. Gallbladder problems can be common in pregnancy so I thought "no big deal". After the nurse got done reading down all the questions and stuff they tell you before an MRI, the high risk doctor rushed in and informed me that no I would not be having the MRI but that they needed to deliver my baby right away. I was alone. Scared. And was just told my precious baby would have to be delivered at 25wks and 5days gestation. My labwork had indicated that in 4 hours (midnight to 4am labs) I had gone from 'normal' to full blown HELLP Syndrome (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HELLP_syndrome). To save my life and my baby's life I had to be delivered. I was immediately placed back on Magnesium, this time for to to prevent seizures, and was told the pain in my ribs was my liver enlarging and on the verge of rupture. I immediately called LaRon to have him come as quick as possible. I told the doctors I couldn't do this alone and could we please wait for my husband. They said they would wait as long as they could. My nurse Stacy stayed by my side the whole time and held my hand. LaRon got to the hospital and immediately after he arrived they wheeled me back to the OR. Stacy my nurse held my hands and comforted me as the spinal was placed, I was laid on the table, prepped for the C section and LaRon was brought in. My only vivid memories of those moments were looking into LaRon's eyes with tears and him reassuring me, I remember hearing "time of birth 6:31am", I remember NOT hearing my baby cry, I remember hearing the NICU staff working on him. I remember hearing them say he was stable, intubated and ready to go downstairs. LaRon went with them. He was told he should go because it was likely Malachi would not survive. The doctors had to work for a while to stitch me up, because of the HELLP and my drastically low platelets I had bled a lot. I remember feeling like I wanted to pass out, I think I did. Then I was in recovery. Hearing other moms with their crying babies. I was a wreck. She assured me it was ok. LaRon came back up. He said Malachi was ok, but so so small. Our precious boy weighed only 1 pound 2(really 1.8) ounces. He sat with me. I was in and out of sleep. The rest of the day is a blur. Between the magnesium, the pain meds, and the trauma of what we'd just been through I don't have many other memories of that day or the following few days. I didn't get to see my son until Saturday evening. I was finally off the magnesium and able to go down to the NICU. I had a fear of seeing him, "how would I react to a tiny 1lb baby" "Would he look like my baby" "how would I feel", LaRon assured me I would 'know' him and he would be just as precious to me as was our full term baby. We got to the NICU and I saw him for the first time. Emotions flooded me. My baby was here. Early. hooked up to tubes. future unknown. But for now he was here and alive. I got to hold his hand. His skin was transparent. You could see his heart beating through his chest. I talked gently to him. Told him how much I loved him and would always do anything for him. I told him how sorry I was that I'd gotten sick but that I'd be here every step of his way until he came home. I don't remember going back upstairs. I don't remember much of that weekend. I remember seeing him. I remember literally feeling my heart shatter. I remember picking up the pieces and giving them to Jesus and telling him to put them back together. I remember a lot of prayer. I was discharged a few days later. The hardest thing I've every had to do was leave my newborn at the hospital. It's against all motherly instinct and against everything that is "supposed" to be. But once Deuce saw me home I knew I was where I was supposed to be. Home to heal, home to rest, home to be there for my Husband and my two yr old. Home to recuperate strength so I could be the mother Malachi would need in the coming weeks.

The bible states verse after verse that our steps are ordered by Him:
Proverbs 20:24 A Person's steps are ordered by the Lord. (NIV)
Proverbs 16:9 In their hearts human's plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps. (NIV)
Psalms 37:23 The Lord directs the steps of the Godly (NLT)

I have never seen such a distinct picture of steps being directed by God as in Malachi's birth story. A conservative follow up ultrasound was ordered (for a "problem" that never existed), which led to his cord issue being found to be monitored, which led to me being in the hospital when the HELLP syndrome developed and became life threatening, which led to delivery to save both Malachi's and my life. I can't imagine the outcome had I not been in the hospital when the HELLP syndrome arose. I would have probably shaken off the pain, taken tylenol, and figured it would go away like it had the week before. The doctors told LaRon over and over how 'lucky' we were to be there already because it's highly likely I would not have made it had we been home. We know we are not 'lucky'. We know our steps were ordered by the King of Kings who guides us every day. Our steps were ordered so that my life and my son's life would be saved. How AMAZING is the love of Jesus. To do all that for me. It leaves me speechless. He loved me that much, to make a way for me to still be here. To still be with my husband (my angel on loan), to still be mommy to my treasures I have in my two sons. He loved me that much to spare my life. When I talk about the real, tangible, love of my Jesus, it's something I can't even really put into words. HE LOVES ME, like for real.

And you know what?, He loves you too. He died for you too. He too will order your steps. No matter what you are facing, you can trust Jesus with your past, your today, and your tomorrow.

Our journey with Malachi is far from over. We have had many ups and downs along the way. But we've (and YOU) have been witness to miracle after miracle. Our boy is alive, he is a living, breathing miracle and demonstration of God's love. God has mighty plans for this little one. Even the doctors say "we don't know why he's still here but he is" And my response is "Do you know my Jesus? because HE is why Malachi is still here".

If you'd like to follow his journey a Facebook page was set up for him www.facebook.com/Love4Chi