More kids, less stress

I am not a mom, and we dads do play a very different role no matter how engaged we are, but in this time of mom being down, I have had to play a lot of roles (with a lot of help thank God), both Dad and mom roles and I would certainly concur with this poll.  I am a bit better at letting go and enjoying the chaos than Nicole is (it can really stress her out), but I would say we both agree that having a large family is actually easier and less stressful once the family gels together as a team and learns to work with mutual support.  Also, there is really no way to spoil a child when you have so many. They simply have to pull their weight, clean their dishes, help with dinner, clean their rooms, help with house projects.  For the family to function well, the child must be trained to work some for what they have and with so many to receive, we cannot just shower them with material rubbish.  We have to concentrate on giving to them from things that do not perish or wear out, like love, support, encouragement, even discipline.  Those are the building blocks of a heart based relationship anyhow.  If you cannot connect with your child on a heart level, a new Wii is not going to do anything to create parent/child intimacy.

Nicole does stress a lot though.  Sometimes about things small enough that she might want to let it go, but sometimes about things that really matter and her concern has made a big impact.  She does deserve big kuddos in helping coach us toward real team functionality with greater interdependence and more responsible children.  Her stress and persistence have born fruit in some places like having Elise do laundry now, having the kids always do their dishes and empty the dishwasher, vacuum the floors and so on.  And honestly, the kids enjoy working for what they have on a heart level.  Kids that are given everything but require of nothing tend to have less gratitude, much more a sense of entitlement, basically, they certainly can easily drift toward becoming an unhelpful spoiled child with a sour attitude and a difficult disposition when they do not get their way.  Nicole was spoiled somewhat rotten and she raised her first, Ryon that way along with her parents.  She raised him as she was raised.  But with our littles, she had a chance to do it over and do it different and do it more right.  She was determined not to raise her kids to become what she became.  She was determined that she would not be the mother to sour, spoiled kids.  And I would have to give her 4.5 stars out of 5 for how she pulled it off.

But again, many kids makes it all but impossible to spoil the kid because the parents cannot do it all.  Not for a moment.  Nor can they afford it all.  Even if we wanted to ruin our kids by giving them everything they want or demand, we couldn't do it or afford it financially.  So we look for investments for the common good.  We look for group gifts a lot more than the smaller family.  We look for durable investments that make memories together like our lake place, our family boat, and some day a pool at our house.  Those things are enjoyed together, always, and no kid can call it their own.  It is ours.  Ours is very important for building a team mentality.  Mine is a word too common in smaller homes that can work against building an ours.  As Pam Rudd said, big families delegate.  We have to in order to operate.

And we are not arguing that everyone should have a large family.  Not at all.  Nor are we saying that all parents of smaller homes spoil their kids.  Not even close.  Just that it becomes very, very difficult to spoil a kid when you have a lot of them and you want to connect on an intimate level with each of them.

The article is here on how mom's of large families report less stress:
http://www.today.com/moms/mom-survey-says-three-most-stressful-number-kids-6C9774150

This morning's surprise

I was sleeping with the five big kids at the Ronald McDonald House, Eden was with Kelly and Peggers at the Hampton nearby when I received a text from Nicole informing me that she had been diagnosed with gestational diabetes. They immediately changed her diet and removed all sweets and treats.  For a moment she pined with the loss of this one luxury from her hospital home, but she quickly found her smile and kept it through the day even after Kelly and Peggers took our six beloveds back to Chattanooga.  For some reason that text hit me hard.  Maybe harder than the news hit her because she and our boys have endured so much that I was just: "enough already" right?  Then the kids left and my heart somewhat sank as it is prone to do when I have to tell them goodbye.

Then I stumbled upon a luxurious lunch prepped by volunteers at the House and met a man named Walter.  I have met many who have been there months, some even over a year, but his story came at the time I needed to hear it.  His three year old was sent home on hospice after a fleet of issues and surgeries in her young life finally culminated in heart failure.  He did not give up.  He contacted Cincinnati Children's and they were immediately on their way where their little girl was put on a mechanical heart to keep her alive until they could find a heart and perform a transplant.  In that time she had three massive strokes, and lost mobility on her left side ... then her new heart came through and she has regained almost all her faculties other than her voice.  We have had some challenges, some major challenges, tears, tender hearts, day to day, but God has been good every step of the way and we have seen his blessings, we have seen His care, we have seen His love shining through it all.  So, a bit of cognitive reframing and bam, we are back on the bright side.

I am so thankful for all our little kids.  They received multiple compliments at the RMH as they unloaded dishwashers, did the dishes, and had fun but showed courtesy.  They are already excited about coming back for the next visit and they are holding their spirits so high remarkably all things considered though they are quite clingy when they are with me now.  The sunshine they bring far outshines the clouds that come after their departure.

But we have a big week coming up!  Growth charting in the ultrasound tomorrow (the boys should be around 3lbs. now), then another fetal Echo Cardiagram on Tuesday which is also our anniversary, then a consult with the team to discuss a plan for delivery, then Thomas's birthday Thursday (I hope to travel home Thursday morning to spend his birthday with him Thursday and toss him a party on Friday at Peggers before running back to Ohio).  Big week.  More will become clear.  But one thing did clarify itself in the past few days:  There will be no transfer from Cincinnati though there is still a very slight chance of a transfer to Boston, and this is where our boys will be born. I think accepting that, accepting this as our two to three month home was something we needed to come to.

All the Girls together at Good Sam

Mommy happily reunited with her baby girl Eden!

Our whole family, Frank (Dad), Nicole (Mom), Elise (oldest), Sophie, Ani, Kai, Eden, and Thomas

with Bryce and River still hiding out inside.

We now have an annual membership to the fabulous Cincinnati Zoo and this was five of the kids

second visit, Eden's first.  Eden as a bit too sleepy to be all that enamored   

Hanging with Ronald at the House

May, 5 - almost 31 weeks!

For those who have been connected to us on Facebook, this will be familiar terrain, but for some who may stumble across our tale of late and find it compelling or curious, here is the overview of where we are and what this is about.

With a family of six including our Eden, less than a year old we learned we were expecting again.  Upon our first ultrasound we found two hearts, two heads, yes, we were having twins.  We were immediately considered high risk simply for having spontaneous twins, but after Nicole was was intubated a second time in the coarse of the pregancy, still early on, for a tracheal dilation (she has idiopathic subglotic stenosis), we switched doctors to one remarkable and caring Scott Harnsberger.  In his first ultrasound he told us more than we had ever known, he also determined that our babies must be identical because they shared a single placenta and that the placement of the placenta was against the cervix, or, placenta previa.  Nicole was put on pelvic rest and told to keep a slower pace because of this.  At that time he told us of potential dangers associated with monochorionic twins including a disease of the placenta called TTTS or Twin-to-Twin-Transfusion Syndrom.  About 15% of monochorionic twins are diagnosed with this disease and it is almost certainly fatal without intervention.  And so it was.

I was in Knoxville when Nicole went in for an ultrasound early February with Dr. Scott and his face turned pale and he ran out of the room to make a call.  She was headed straight over to the high risk team where she was seen by Dr. Lam who handles TTTS in Chattanooga.  He told us that we were almost there, but we could not yet be classified with TTTS because though one of our twins, Bryce, the recipient twin had 8cm of fluid, the donor was still above 2 at 2.3cm.  The signs were not good but there was no firm diagnosis.  The next week we went back to Dr. Lam who sent us into tears when he said we were certainly stage 2 TTTS (fluid imbalance greater than 2 to 8 and no visible bladder in the donor) and would require laser surgery in Cincinnati at the Cincinnati Fetal Care Center.  By that night we had received two calls from Mel, our nurse coordinator at Cincy Childrens and we were on the road by noon the next day.  The following day was 8 hours of tests and consultations and it was determined we were stage 3C.  River, the donor had only .5cm of fluid, Bryce was over 12, and there had been significant damage to Bryce's heart because of the excess fluid and pressure.  River was trapped in nothing of a sac with his face planted against the placenta and Bryce had a mansion to move around it.  We stayed in a hotel on bedrest over the weekend then she went in for surgery on the boys in Utero to ablate the offending blood vessels and hopefully more equalize the boys supply.  The procedure was a success, the boys survived, and though we stayed in Ohio for five more days till our followup, things were improving dramatically, but not everything.  It was bedrest and pelvic rest for the remainder of the pregnancy for Nicole.

The Fetal Cardiac team suspected that Bryce may have a congenital heart defect of the tricuspid valve but there was really no way to tell because often these leaks or heart issues in the recipient correct themselves over time as things remain in balance and their hearts begin to heal, however, 5 days post-op, there was no change in the severity of the leak.  So we went home to once a week visits with the high risk doctors and one with Dr. Scott.  About 30 days on, Dr. Kipikasa who is the fetal heart specialist in Chattanooga was concerned about the enlargement of Bryce's heart and the continued pace of his tricuspid leak so he sent us back to Cincinnati for another full Fetal Echo.  After than, we returned to Chattanooga for twice a week heart checks of the boys.  Because Bryce's leak was so sever, there was consistent risk of precipitous fetal demise through heart failure and because the boys are connected, there is also a risk that if one of the boys were to die in the womb, the other would as well.  So we had to watch constantly and closely for any sign of deterioration.  Then one month later Dr. Kipikassa thought it was time for us to return to Cincinnati for another full Fetal Echo and consult with the cardiac team here.  We were coming close to 29 weeks gestational age.  Dr. Kipikassa finally admitted when I pressed him that Bryce did appear to have a congenital heart defect and he thought it may be Epsteins' Anomaly  a very rare disorder with the tricuspid valve.  Before we left for Ohio again, I reached out to Boston's Children's at Harvard because of their leading work on Epsteins' and Displastic Tricuspid valves.  Dr. Rathod called me that night on his cell phone and taught me more about what we were up against than had anyone to date.  He said we would need to be in the city where we would deliver by 31 weeks and that Chattanooga was out of the question.  Dr. Scott had already surmised that and had been nudging me to prepare for an extended stay out of state.  So it was either Boston or Cincinnati.

Things became more complicated though.  Our ultrasound in Cincinnati revealed that the boys were now Mono/Mono as in monochorionic as well as monoamniotic - ie, single sac, single placenta.  The sac the boys were in had also separated from the uterine wall and there was fluid transfer from inside to outside the sac so our high risk became significantly higher risk and Nicole as admitted to Good Sam for hospitalized bedrest and we were prevented from further travel because we require very frequent monitoring. So here we are today, some two weeks later, almost to 31 weeks and I am at the Ronald McDonald House and Nicole is at Good Samaritan close to Cincinnati Children's and our plan is to deliver here and River will be kept at the NICU at Good Sam but Bryce will be transfered to Children's CICU.  And our list of complications grew a bit longer still.  Nicole was diagnosed this morning with gestational diabetes as well.  But our boys have kept growing very strong, for very long in spite of all the obstacles.  TTTS, Displastic Tricuspid Disease in Bryce's heart, monoamniotic, monochorionic, amniotic separation, diabetes and our boys are doing great.  Bryce has tolerated his condition miraculously well and though his heart is 50% of his chest cavity, significantly enlarged, it is not dangerously enlarged and his lungs are developing and functioning.  So if you are catching us here at this point, that is where we are, at almost 31 weeks on hospitalized bedrest 5 hours from home and our six kids, turtle, guinea pig, dog, and fish during a major construction project to add onto our home.  Peggers (Frank's mom) and Kelly (Frank's sister) brought our six kids up this weekend for a visit and though I brought five of the six up last weekend as well, it was Nicole's first time to see Eden, our baby girl since we left for our last fetal Echo.  Our next growth chart is tomorrow and our next Echo is Tuesday morning and after that, the MFM and Fetal Care team will arrange a consult to discuss a plan for delivery. God has been remarkably good to us in spite of these trials and we feel very blessed by His love.

Update 4-26

My mom suggested I maintain a blog.  She said, "That's what people do when they are going through the type thing you are going through".  Yes, I suppose so.  And maybe I should.  Maybe my small thoughts and our big-to-us trials might provide some hope or instruction for someone else who finds themselves in the unenviable position we find ourselves in.  Is that why we write during times of crisis, those, who like me, are extraverts?  An extravert processes by externalizing thoughts and feelings and in so doing, he or she arranges them into some comprehensive grid.  That grid provides comfort or understanding.  Yet there are aspects of life that do not fit in tidy grids.  Things that trouble the comforts of our convicted logic.  Things that trouble even our faith.  Yes, doubt.  There are things that generate doubt.  Should we be afraid of doubt?  No.  I say no.  How can a faith be real lest it is tried and washed with doubt.  There is blind faith which cannot tolerate the presence of doubt.  There is faith tried, washed, firm and clean which has withstood the ugly things reality might toss its way.  That is the kind of faith I need.  That is the only faith I can carry.  I am a person more comfortable in the woods of doubt than in the seas of faith.  Sometimes faith is difficult and unnatural to me.  Really, some folks are struck by my faith as I articulate our trials.  But my faith does not sail smooth seas, free of the storms of doubt.  In fact, I would say that all doubt is NOT equivalent of a storm.  Sometimes it is essential.  And I do not mean doubt in ourselves.  We would all do well NOT to take ourselves so damn serious.  Not to pride our petty opinions too darn much.  We would all do well to doubt ourselves some more, but not the murderous doubt produced by the fears of perfectionism.  Not a doubt that finds its roots in shame.  No, a doubt which we use as a tool to really test where we stand.  A tool.  Yes, a tool.  I believe we might be a bit healthier spiritually when we can see doubt not as an enemy but as a tool.  But sometimes it does come as an attack.  Sometimes it can be crippling.  Those are the stormy waves of doubt, but it can still be a tool to faith.  Those unable and unwilling to doubt can come off as intellectually arrogant, or insecure, paranoid at times, like a dictator so terrified of criticism he would command his critics be tortured rather than listen to their critique.  Those types can never grow.  So terrified something might puncture the petty fortress which gives them false personal value, they guard the sand castle of their faith with arms and terror.  We are never impressed with the insecure.  We can understand it.  We can even empathize with it, but it never beckons us onward and upward.  

But self-pity is my topic.  Self-pity is the fastest road to bitterness.  In self-pity gratitude becomes all but impossible.  In perpetual self-pity we become the martyr, it becomes a role we play in life, something core to our identity.  Those types you can never doubt, never disagree with, never reproach because their actions, however unsavory or even cruel they may be, are justified by the fact that they are the victim.  I personally become bitter in no time flat when I allow myself to become the victim in my mind.  The doors are shut tight to the light of gratitude.  My faith is choked of, the guiding transformative faith that give me composure and security is bled by the martyr's role.  Our great heros may have become martyrs, but they never saw themselves as victims.  No, they carried a torch, they charged the ranks, they took heroic acts because they were NOT going to be the victim.  They were unwilling to live as the victim.  Unwilling to entertain self-pity.  They committed daring acts which brought upon them genuine suffering but they did so of their own power, their own choice, their own volition and they did so understanding there may be consequence.  These are the types we are prone to follow.  It is those who say, "I did it because I chose to" rather than those who say, "I did it because they did it."  In fact, I have known those whose actions are always a reaction.  They are always justified by some injustice committed upon them.  They bully because.  They hurt because.  Not because they choose to, but because he or she hurt me, he or she did not agree with me, he or she essentially made me do it.  These folks loose their own identity.  They cease to be a real person.  That is self-pity in the end.  It either ends in bitterness and isolation, or it ends with the extinguishment of self.  If there is no power within them that chooses to do of their own volition but always acts because of the actions of another, there is no unique "I" in there any longer.  

I watch people react to circumstance differently.  I watch us all develop our roles.  Roles that come to define us.  He is the nice guy.  He is the peacemaker.  She is the complainer.  She is the dependent.  All these roles become core to the unstable identity.  Our identity becomes more rooted in our role than in who and what we are.  Again, a loss of self.  And not the good loss.  Not the loosing your life to save it.  Voluntary surrender is one of the most brave and heroic acts one might commit. Letting go and letting God is one of the most life giving intentional acts one can ever commit.  But letting Go and letting God does not allow for self-pity.  Self-pity provides for determinism which becomes pessimism.  These are the folks we hear complaining, the type we like to avoid.  I can be prone to self-pity.  I can even find some narcissistic fulfillment in playing the self-pity card.  I want the attention.  I deserved the attention, the consolation.  I am suffering!  Hear me roar!  Feed me, feed my ego, feed my insecurity people!  If I make things look terrible enough you might stop to offer me a drink.  I might for that moment feel wanted.  And feeling wanted I might feel whole.  What kind of a person would I be?  If I need you to make me whole I cannot help the hurting become whole.  No, nothing but God alone, nothing.  Nothing created can create whole.  Only whole can fill as whole.  

I pain for Nicole's suffering.  At times I feel pity for her.  As I should.  And she may pity me at time.  I don't think she does, but she may.  But may I not pity myself.  I can scarcely count the blessings.  Render told me years ago when my life fell apart, my fake, painful, pretentious life of cards came tumbling down - he told me that God would restore what the locusts had eaten.  Did he ever.  Today my fields are far bigger, my flocks more full, my tent holds more love and more people than ever before.  I was the martyr.  I was the victim.  You may not have known it, but it was central to who I was.  I was MISERABLE.  Today I can scarcely count the blessings.  I can barely see and end to the sea of good that has been given me.  And the best things I have have been given mind you.  The best things I did not earn.  The best kind of love is the love that is given, not the type given as a reward.  Grace is not grace if it is payment for labor or loan.  

Please, rejoice with us as we celebrate this beautiful period of our lives.  A period when we see the hand of God at every turn.  A time when grace is flowing like a raging river after torrential storms.  A time when hope punctures darkness at every turn.  I got to hold Eden, give her a bottle, stare into her loving eyes tonight.  I was moved by the simple gift.  I could not have seen it as a gift if I was the victim.  I would have said in my own mind, "oh, my life is so hard, so much has been taken from me, we are alone in Ohio with no end in sight living in fear and unknown.  What did I do to deserve this?  I do not deserve this, I can only hold my little girl for moments in these difficult days.  I am robbed of my little loves."  But I have those bright beautiful eyes to look into, that wild hair and those willful ways.  I have been given the gift of a beautiful garden, "Eden", and I did not earn her nor deserve her.  I as daddy cannot earn her love.  She gives it to me because I am daddy.  What a treasure.  What a gift.  What a great thing I was able to hold her tonight.  I feel my boys kicking as my hand lay on Nicole.  They are kicking!  You get that?  That is a big deal. I have been given two living sons in their mother's womb.  They should not be alive today.  20 years ago they would not have made it to March.  

There is NO reason Bryce should be half as healthy as he is today.  Please, if you hear nothing else, hear that.  His defect is severe.  His leak is massive.  His heart should be far sicker than it is.  The Doctor's have watched always expecting the worst.  But, in spite of his anomaly, his heart is moderately sick.  Only moderately.  That means he has a good fighting chance.  He is in the ring with gloves on and trained.  He is not a lamb led to the slaughter.  How many other babies with defects like his have held on this long, this strong, have tolerated the regurgitation this well?  Not many that I have heard of.  I have heard of hydrops and blue babies.  Or River who is perfectly healthy.  He is the donor twin.  A family in PA just lost their donor two weeks after birth because his share of the placenta was too small for him to develop vitality.  Some day I will have to count the blessings.  Some day I might even make a list of the miracles we have seen.  Heck, I was a drunk ass that ran my wife away.  It's a miracle that I even have this battle with this beautiful bride to celebrate today.  In the end, Bryce may not make it.  We may have only hours with him, days, weeks.  Who knows. Though I truly believe he will flourish and thrive.  I do.  I believe we will see him playing soccer one day on the CCS field.  I believe that the hand that has held him this strong this long will lead him to the other side.  I do.  And I believe that without knowing it, he is going to walk around with a tattoo for all to see that says: "I am here because my God wanted to show off how big He really is."  I wonder how many will be able to see that tattoo?  Because it will be invisible to the naked eye.  It will take the power of faith, grace, and gratitude to see, but I know many of us will see it and will be reminded every day that God is in the business of miracles, every freakin day.  I believe we can see these invisible tattoos every day.  You can see it every time you see me smile.  My life today is God showing off.  

Invisible Tatoos

My mom suggested I maintain a blog.  She said, "That's what people do when they are going through the type thing you are going through".  Yes, I suppose so.  And maybe I should.  Maybe my small thoughts and our big-to-us trials might provide some hope or instruction for someone else who finds themselves in the unenviable position we find ourselves in.  Is that why we write during times of crisis, those, who like me, are extraverts?  An extravert processes by externalizing thoughts and feelings and in so doing, he or she arranges them into some comprehensive grid.  That grid provides comfort or understanding.  Yet there are aspects of life that do not fit in tidy grids.  Things that trouble the comforts of our convicted logic.  Things that trouble even our faith.  Yes, doubt.  There are things that generate doubt.  Should we be afraid of doubt?  No.  I say no.  How can a faith be real lest it is tried and washed with doubt.  There is blind faith which cannot tolerate the presence of doubt.  There is faith tried, washed, firm and clean which has withstood the ugly things reality might toss its way.  That is the kind of faith I need.  That is the only faith I can carry.  I am a person more comfortable in the woods of doubt than in the seas of faith.  Sometimes faith is difficult and unnatural to me.  Really, some folks are struck by my faith as I articulate our trials.  But my faith does not sail smooth seas, free of the storms of doubt.  In fact, I would say that all doubt is NOT equivalent of a storm.  Sometimes it is essential.  And I do not mean doubt in ourselves.  We would all do well NOT to take ourselves so damn serious.  Not to pride our petty opinions too darn much.  We would all do well to doubt ourselves some more, but not the murderous doubt produced by the fears of perfectionism.  Not a doubt that finds its roots in shame.  No, a doubt which we use as a tool to really test where we stand.  A tool.  Yes, a tool.  I believe we might be a bit healthier spiritually when we can see doubt not as an enemy but as a tool.  But sometimes it does come as an attack.  Sometimes it can be crippling.  Those are the stormy waves of doubt, but it can still be a tool to faith.  Those unable and unwilling to doubt can come off as intellectually arrogant, or insecure, paranoid at times, like a dictator so terrified of criticism he would command his critics be tortured rather than listen to their critique.  Those types can never grow.  So terrified something might puncture the petty fortress which gives them false personal value, they guard the sand castle of their faith with arms and terror.  We are never impressed with the insecure.  We can understand it.  We can even empathize with it, but it never beckons us onward and upward.  

But self-pity is my topic.  Self-pity is the fastest road to bitterness.  In self-pity gratitude becomes all but impossible.  In perpetual self-pity we become the martyr, it becomes a role we play in life, something core to our identity.  Those types you can never doubt, never disagree with, never reproach because their actions, however unsavory or even cruel they may be, are justified by the fact that they are the victim.  I personally become bitter in no time flat when I allow myself to become the victim in my mind.  The doors are shut tight to the light of gratitude.  My faith is choked of, the guiding transformative faith that give me composure and security is bled by the martyr's role.  Our great heros may have become martyrs, but they never saw themselves as victims.  No, they carried a torch, they charged the ranks, they took heroic acts because they were NOT going to be the victim.  They were unwilling to live as the victim.  Unwilling to entertain self-pity.  They committed daring acts which brought upon them genuine suffering but they did so of their own power, their own choice, their own volition and they did so understanding there may be consequence.  These are the types we are prone to follow.  It is those who say, "I did it because I chose to" rather than those who say, "I did it because they did it."  In fact, I have known those whose actions are always a reaction.  They are always justified by some injustice committed upon them.  They bully because.  They hurt because.  Not because they choose to, but because he or she hurt me, he or she did not agree with me, he or she essentially made me do it.  These folks loose their own identity.  They cease to be a real person.  That is self-pity in the end.  It either ends in bitterness and isolation, or it ends with the extinguishment of self.  If there is no power within them that chooses to do of their own volition but always acts because of the actions of another, there is no unique "I" in there any longer.  

I watch people react to circumstance differently.  I watch us all develop our roles.  Roles that come to define us.  He is the nice guy.  He is the peacemaker.  She is the complainer.  She is the dependent.  All these roles become core to the unstable identity.  Our identity becomes more rooted in our role than in who and what we are.  Again, a loss of self.  And not the good loss.  Not the loosing your life to save it.  Voluntary surrender is one of the most brave and heroic acts one might commit. Letting go and letting God is one of the most life giving intentional acts one can ever commit.  But letting Go and letting God does not allow for self-pity.  Self-pity provides for determinism which becomes pessimism.  These are the folks we hear complaining, the type we like to avoid.  I can be prone to self-pity.  I can even find some narcissistic fulfillment in playing the self-pity card.  I want the attention.  I deserved the attention, the consolation.  I am suffering!  Hear me roar!  Feed me, feed my ego, feed my insecurity people!  If I make things look terrible enough you might stop to offer me a drink.  I might for that moment feel wanted.  And feeling wanted I might feel whole.  What kind of a person would I be?  If I need you to make me whole I cannot help the hurting become whole.  No, nothing but God alone, nothing.  Nothing created can create whole.  Only whole can fill as whole.  

I pain for Nicole's suffering.  At times I feel pity for her.  As I should.  And she may pity me at time.  I don't think she does, but she may.  But may I not pity myself.  I can scarcely count the blessings.  Render told me years ago when my life fell apart, my fake, painful, pretentious life of cards came tumbling down - he told me that God would restore what the locusts had eaten.  Did he ever.  Today my fields are far bigger, my flocks more full, my tent holds more love and more people than ever before.  I was the martyr.  I was the victim.  You may not have known it, but it was central to who I was.  I was MISERABLE.  Today I can scarcely count the blessings.  I can barely see and end to the sea of good that has been given me.  And the best things I have have been given mind you.  The best things I did not earn.  The best kind of love is the love that is given, not the type given as a reward.  Grace is not grace if it is payment for labor or loan.  

Please, rejoice with us as we celebrate this beautiful period of our lives.  A period when we see the hand of God at every turn.  A time when grace is flowing like a raging river after torrential storms.  A time when hope punctures darkness at every turn.  I got to hold Eden, give her a bottle, stare into her loving eyes tonight.  I was moved by the simple gift.  I could not have seen it as a gift if I was the victim.  I would have said in my own mind, "oh, my life is so hard, so much has been taken from me, we are alone in Ohio with no end in sight living in fear and unknown.  What did I do to deserve this?  I do not deserve this, I can only hold my little girl for moments in these difficult days.  I am robbed of my little loves."  But I have those bright beautiful eyes to look into, that wild hair and those willful ways.  I have been given the gift of a beautiful garden, "Eden", and I did not earn her nor deserve her.  I as daddy cannot earn her love.  She gives it to me because I am daddy.  What a treasure.  What a gift.  What a great thing I was able to hold her tonight.  I feel my boys kicking as my hand lay on Nicole.  They are kicking!  You get that?  That is a big deal. I have been given two living sons in their mother's womb.  They should not be alive today.  20 years ago they would not have made it to March.  

There is NO reason Bryce should be half as healthy as he is today.  Please, if you hear nothing else, hear that.  His defect is severe.  His leak is massive.  His heart should be far sicker than it is.  The Doctor's have watched always expecting the worst.  But, in spite of his anomaly, his heart is moderately sick.  Only moderately.  That means he has a good fighting chance.  He is in the ring with gloves on and trained.  He is not a lamb led to the slaughter.  How many other babies with defects like his have held on this long, this strong, have tolerated the regurgitation this well?  Not many that I have heard of.  I have heard of hydrops and blue babies.  Or River who is perfectly healthy.  He is the donor twin.  A family in PA just lost their donor two weeks after birth because his share of the placenta was too small for him to develop vitality.  Some day I will have to count the blessings.  Some day I might even make a list of the miracles we have seen.  Heck, I was a drunk ass that ran my wife away.  It's a miracle that I even have this battle with this beautiful bride to celebrate today.  In the end, Bryce may not make it.  We may have only hours with him, days, weeks.  Who knows. Though I truly believe he will flourish and thrive.  I do.  I believe we will see him playing soccer one day on the CCS field.  I believe that the hand that has held him this strong this long will lead him to the other side.  I do.  And I believe that without knowing it, he is going to walk around with a tattoo for all to see that says: "I am here because my God wanted to show off how big He really is."  I wonder how many will be able to see that tattoo?  Because it will be invisible to the naked eye.  It will take the power of faith, grace, and gratitude to see, but I know many of us will see it and will be reminded every day that God is in the business of miracles, every freakin day.  I believe we can see these invisible tattoos every day.  You can see it every time you see me smile.  My life today is God showing off.  

More Clarity, More Confusion

What a day!  But in the end, even though we have been admitted to the hospital for monitored care, we are feeling pretty upbeat!  During the ultrasound, Dr. Habli could not find a membrane that separates the boys and it did appear from the fluid arrangement that their membrane had ruptured and they were now Mono-mono, or, one placenta, one sac.  This is a most complicated twin arrangement aside from the TTTS hurdle we have already jumped over because the boys can become entangled, their cords entangled and they can even harm one another or one another's cord.  The sac that holds the boys had also separated from the uterine wall - there was no attachment.  This alone was enough to prevent us from traveling home, but with the potential entanglement we now require very frequent monitoring.  So, that is the bad news.  But there is good news!

Bryce's heart is functioning well.  It is not so enlarged that he is in imminent danger or his lung may not develop.  He is tolerating the severe tricuspid leakage well and really holding strong.  That has been the trend.  But the good news came when the team decided to call his abnormality Displastic Tricuspid valve rather than Epstein's Anomaly.  Functionally there is not much difference and the two are related, but the outcomes with Epstein's tend to be more grim as is more likely to trigger other heart malfunctions.  There is even a chance that Bryce may NOT require surgery. After birth, when some of the tremendous pressure in his right ventricle is relieved, the leak may slow, it may virtually halt.  It may not.  It may go into rabid decline but it may do that at any moment, but it has tolerated this condition pretty well for a few months now so we can take heart that it may continue to do so.  If the leak does not lessen he will require surgery, but they may be able to put off the procedure to attempt a repair on the valve until he is hearier and more stable, as in, he may be able to come home before intervention is required.  There is a real possibility that immediate intervention may be required or that they will have to open the heart and reconstruct the valve before he is ever discharged from the CICU.  While it's still murky, the possible positive outcomes did look much brighter after this fetal Echo.  

Finally, because Bryce is stable now and because Cincinnati has the capacity to intervene post-delivery at any time and they have dealt with cases similar, though, according to Dr. Lim, they have not had a case exactly like ours with all the complicating factors and this specific heart defect, and because it is much closer to home and because we know this team, they know us and our boys and this place is ranked #3 in the U.S., we will most likely deliver here.  There is a chance we may delivery in Nashville to be closer to home, but Dr. Lim is going to have some long talks with Vandy about their experience (if they have any at all) in emergent reconstructive valve surgery before we look seriously at that option.  If they can convince him that they are fully confident in handling our care, we will certainly consider a transfer so we might deliver closer to home.  There is also a chance, though maybe slight that the sac could reattach to the uterine wall and they may find that the membrane is still there keeping them apart only they could not see it today.  If that is the case, we will be able to return home for a week or so before we have to hunker down where we plan to delivery at around 31 weeks.  

I will be traveling home tomorrow to gather some stuff, knock out some work, tie up some loose ends with the construction projects around the house and then bring the kids up for a visit on Thursday afternoon before returning them to Chattanooga Saturday in time to take my girls (sans Eden) to the Daddy Daughter Dance at CCS Saturday night.  Nicole has had a really rough haul.  She has also endured some very stressful and difficult events outside of pregnancy challenges, but her spirit remains sturdy and committed.  She has demonstrated uncommon strength and endurance.  In the end, I feel more confident than ever before that in the end, both of our boys are going to be okay.  What a journey so far.  So many trials, yet, so many blessings.