December 23, 2009
December 19, 2009
Remembering
Anne Marie died on a Saturday. Four weeks ago tonight. Each Saturday I find myself thinking about the events of that day. I think about the fact that as we were driving to the hospital that Saturday morning we had no idea she would be gone that night. I remember how that day went, and how everything seemed to happen so fast.
When we first got to the hospital on Saturday, November 21, the nurse told us that Anne Marie had had a hard night. I was surprised because I had called at about 1:00 a.m. and she had been fine. But in the early morning hours Anne Marie's blood pressure had started to drop. I remember that while I was waiting for the doctors to do rounds that Saturday morning I had talked to Ginger on the phone. She had asked about Anne Marie and I told her that she wasn't really showing much improvement, but that she wasn't getting worse either. I didn't know then how fast things could change. Dr. Morris came in later that morning to explain just how hard Anne Marie's night had been, and I could tell she was very concerned. She talked about Anne Marie's high dosage of blood-pressure medication and how it didn't seem to be helping like it had before. She explained that the ventilator was still set at a very high level and that they hadn't been able to turn it down much. She mentioned that Anne Marie might have a pneumothorax and was going to get an X-ray. And then she mentioned the dreaded DNR. I remember that our surgeon, Dr. Fuchs, had also come in that morning to check Anne Marie's dressing. Looking back, I'm glad Dr. Fuchs came so we were able to see her one more time. I remember that, even after talking to Dr. Morris, I was still hopeful; I recalled how far God had brought Anne Marie, how many miracles we had already seen. It wasn't until later when Dr. Thompson came in to check on Anne Marie that I began to think we might really lose her.
Dr. Thompson had been the attending doctor the night Anne Marie was born. She had never given up on Anne Marie. She always had one more thing to try, one more encouraging word or positive thing to say. She was always so hopeful. But when Dr. Thompson came in Anne Marie's room that Saturday I could tell things were different. She looked sad and didn't have any more tricks up her sleeve, so to speak. And she asked me, "Do you want to hold her?" I knew things must be bad if I was going to be able to hold her. And so in the early evening on November 21, I held our daughter for the first time. Two doctors, several nurses, and the respiratory therapist helped moved Anne Marie and her many tubes to my arms. I held her for the first time and felt the glorious weight of a newborn baby in my arms. I stroked her head and rubbed as much of her little body as I could.
I think about that Saturday and can still remember what it felt like to hold her. How good it felt to have her so close to me for the first time. After that the time seemed to go so fast. Brandon and I later went into a conference room to wait for the doctor to come and talk to us again, but she came in and said we should come back to Anne Marie's room instead because her blood pressure was dropping. We came back and I was able to hold Anne Marie again (pictured here). She was calm and peaceful and so beautiful. I remember rocking her and talking to her, and Brandon and I telling her how much we loved her. We were able to hold her and talk to her for a long time. We couldn't see any monitors but the nurses and doctors out in the hall could; about and hour and a half later, Dr. McCurnin (Anne Marie's neonatologist), Dr. Thompson, and Dr. Morris came in and Dr. McCurnin listened to her heart with his stethoscope. I remember his voice shaking as he told us Anne Marie was gone and how sorry he was. And I remember him saying, "She is beautiful. She looks like an angel." And she did. Then Anne Marie's vent was turned off and all her tapes and tubes were removed and we were able to see all of her beautiful face for the first time.
That day was one of the hardest days of our lives. Yet I hope I never forget the details of that day. How it felt to hold Anne Marie, how good she felt in my arms, how kind and gentle the nurses and doctors were, and how peaceful Anne Marie was. I imagine that for a long time I will count time in weeks, months, and years from Saturday, November 21, 2009. I imagine that for a long time as I glance at the clock on a Saturday evening I will think, "Right now I was holding Anne Marie."
And I try to look past my own sadness and remember that four weeks ago today Anne Marie entered the presence of Christ, whole and healed. Four weeks ago today Jesus welcomed Anne Marie into his arms.
And I look towards the future, when one day I will look back on this chapter in our lives and be able to testify to the healing God is bringing to our family.
When we first got to the hospital on Saturday, November 21, the nurse told us that Anne Marie had had a hard night. I was surprised because I had called at about 1:00 a.m. and she had been fine. But in the early morning hours Anne Marie's blood pressure had started to drop. I remember that while I was waiting for the doctors to do rounds that Saturday morning I had talked to Ginger on the phone. She had asked about Anne Marie and I told her that she wasn't really showing much improvement, but that she wasn't getting worse either. I didn't know then how fast things could change. Dr. Morris came in later that morning to explain just how hard Anne Marie's night had been, and I could tell she was very concerned. She talked about Anne Marie's high dosage of blood-pressure medication and how it didn't seem to be helping like it had before. She explained that the ventilator was still set at a very high level and that they hadn't been able to turn it down much. She mentioned that Anne Marie might have a pneumothorax and was going to get an X-ray. And then she mentioned the dreaded DNR. I remember that our surgeon, Dr. Fuchs, had also come in that morning to check Anne Marie's dressing. Looking back, I'm glad Dr. Fuchs came so we were able to see her one more time. I remember that, even after talking to Dr. Morris, I was still hopeful; I recalled how far God had brought Anne Marie, how many miracles we had already seen. It wasn't until later when Dr. Thompson came in to check on Anne Marie that I began to think we might really lose her.
Dr. Thompson had been the attending doctor the night Anne Marie was born. She had never given up on Anne Marie. She always had one more thing to try, one more encouraging word or positive thing to say. She was always so hopeful. But when Dr. Thompson came in Anne Marie's room that Saturday I could tell things were different. She looked sad and didn't have any more tricks up her sleeve, so to speak. And she asked me, "Do you want to hold her?" I knew things must be bad if I was going to be able to hold her. And so in the early evening on November 21, I held our daughter for the first time. Two doctors, several nurses, and the respiratory therapist helped moved Anne Marie and her many tubes to my arms. I held her for the first time and felt the glorious weight of a newborn baby in my arms. I stroked her head and rubbed as much of her little body as I could.
I think about that Saturday and can still remember what it felt like to hold her. How good it felt to have her so close to me for the first time. After that the time seemed to go so fast. Brandon and I later went into a conference room to wait for the doctor to come and talk to us again, but she came in and said we should come back to Anne Marie's room instead because her blood pressure was dropping. We came back and I was able to hold Anne Marie again (pictured here). She was calm and peaceful and so beautiful. I remember rocking her and talking to her, and Brandon and I telling her how much we loved her. We were able to hold her and talk to her for a long time. We couldn't see any monitors but the nurses and doctors out in the hall could; about and hour and a half later, Dr. McCurnin (Anne Marie's neonatologist), Dr. Thompson, and Dr. Morris came in and Dr. McCurnin listened to her heart with his stethoscope. I remember his voice shaking as he told us Anne Marie was gone and how sorry he was. And I remember him saying, "She is beautiful. She looks like an angel." And she did. Then Anne Marie's vent was turned off and all her tapes and tubes were removed and we were able to see all of her beautiful face for the first time.That day was one of the hardest days of our lives. Yet I hope I never forget the details of that day. How it felt to hold Anne Marie, how good she felt in my arms, how kind and gentle the nurses and doctors were, and how peaceful Anne Marie was. I imagine that for a long time I will count time in weeks, months, and years from Saturday, November 21, 2009. I imagine that for a long time as I glance at the clock on a Saturday evening I will think, "Right now I was holding Anne Marie."
And I try to look past my own sadness and remember that four weeks ago today Anne Marie entered the presence of Christ, whole and healed. Four weeks ago today Jesus welcomed Anne Marie into his arms.
And I look towards the future, when one day I will look back on this chapter in our lives and be able to testify to the healing God is bringing to our family.
The Nutcracker
The girls have performed in the Nutcracker ballet several times, both with their studio where they take classes and also with the Tulsa Ballet. This month they have been performing with their studio's performance ensemble group and doing selections from the Nutcracker for schools, nursing homes, and at some of the libraries in the metro. Last night they performed at Quail Springs Mall and will perform again tonight at 5:30 and 7:30.
December 10, 2009
December 08, 2009
Thank You
I've been spending time this week writing thank you notes. This has been something I have liked doing because I really am so thankful for the prayers, love, and support of so many people. I wish that I could write a thank you note to each and every person who prayed so faithfully and so hard for Anne Marie. While we were in Dallas I witnessed many direct answers to prayer and I am so grateful. It's really hard even to begin to say how thankful I am for the countless prayers on behalf of our daughter and our family. I wrote a post several weeks ago about how thankful I was, but it is something I would like to say again.
I am so thankful for the many encouraging e-mails, cards, and messages we have gotten. I have read each and every heartfelt message, and many days I go back and read them over and over again.
I am thankful for Park Cities Presbyterian Church in Dallas for taking us in, ministering to us, and treating us as one of their own. I am thankful for Our Lord's Community Church, our former church in Oklahoma City, for opening up their beautiful and spacious sanctuary to us for Anne Marie's funeral service. We saw so many people we hadn't seen in many years and it was a comfort to be back in the sanctuary where we had spent so much time. And I am thankful for our home church, Heritage Presbyterian, for the huge support they have been during the pregnancy, birth, and care of Anne Marie. They have prayed for us and loved us through the hardest time in our life and the load has been lighter because of it. We are grateful for the many meals, the flowers, the cards and notes, the pantry and refrigerator FULL of food, and so much more.
I am thankful for the many, many friends who have been so loving and encouraging. Friends here in Edmond and friends in Dallas. Friends in Dallas visited us at the hospital and brought us home-cooked meals. We received many sweet notes from people in Dallas whom we had never met. A Dallas homeschool group reached out to us and prayed for us and invited us to come to their activities. And our friends here loved us and encouraged us from "afar." They watched our kids, called to check on us, drove down to visit us, sent us so many messages, and someone (I haven't figured out who) mowed our lawn and trimmed our trees. I am truly overwhelmed by the love and support that has been poured out on us.
I am thankful for everyone at Dallas Children's. The many people who cared for Anne Marie made our stay there one that I will never forget.
I am thankful to everyone who came to Anne Marie's viewing and funeral service. I wish I had been able to talk to each and every person and tell them how much it meant to have them there. When I got home I read through the guest book and was so touched. Friends we see all the time came, friends we haven't seen in years came, people we hadn't met before came, and Anne Marie's doctor from Dallas (whom I love so much) came. It was a hard day for us, but we were honored and touched by so many who came to her service.
I am thankful for my family. For Brandon who has truly proved that "two are better than one." He has been the strong one in all of this and has helped me more than I can say. For my children, who make me smile and laugh in the midst of all this sadness. For all of the grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins who have stayed with us and visited us and prayed for us.
And I am thankful for Anne Marie. I am a different person because of her life and death. I am thankful for what God has done through her and what He will continue to do. I am thankful that because of Christ's sacrificial death she is now alive in heaven. And I am so thankful that one day I will see her beautiful angel face again.
I am so thankful for the many encouraging e-mails, cards, and messages we have gotten. I have read each and every heartfelt message, and many days I go back and read them over and over again.
I am thankful for Park Cities Presbyterian Church in Dallas for taking us in, ministering to us, and treating us as one of their own. I am thankful for Our Lord's Community Church, our former church in Oklahoma City, for opening up their beautiful and spacious sanctuary to us for Anne Marie's funeral service. We saw so many people we hadn't seen in many years and it was a comfort to be back in the sanctuary where we had spent so much time. And I am thankful for our home church, Heritage Presbyterian, for the huge support they have been during the pregnancy, birth, and care of Anne Marie. They have prayed for us and loved us through the hardest time in our life and the load has been lighter because of it. We are grateful for the many meals, the flowers, the cards and notes, the pantry and refrigerator FULL of food, and so much more.
I am thankful for the many, many friends who have been so loving and encouraging. Friends here in Edmond and friends in Dallas. Friends in Dallas visited us at the hospital and brought us home-cooked meals. We received many sweet notes from people in Dallas whom we had never met. A Dallas homeschool group reached out to us and prayed for us and invited us to come to their activities. And our friends here loved us and encouraged us from "afar." They watched our kids, called to check on us, drove down to visit us, sent us so many messages, and someone (I haven't figured out who) mowed our lawn and trimmed our trees. I am truly overwhelmed by the love and support that has been poured out on us.
I am thankful for everyone at Dallas Children's. The many people who cared for Anne Marie made our stay there one that I will never forget.
I am thankful to everyone who came to Anne Marie's viewing and funeral service. I wish I had been able to talk to each and every person and tell them how much it meant to have them there. When I got home I read through the guest book and was so touched. Friends we see all the time came, friends we haven't seen in years came, people we hadn't met before came, and Anne Marie's doctor from Dallas (whom I love so much) came. It was a hard day for us, but we were honored and touched by so many who came to her service.
I am thankful for my family. For Brandon who has truly proved that "two are better than one." He has been the strong one in all of this and has helped me more than I can say. For my children, who make me smile and laugh in the midst of all this sadness. For all of the grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins who have stayed with us and visited us and prayed for us.
And I am thankful for Anne Marie. I am a different person because of her life and death. I am thankful for what God has done through her and what He will continue to do. I am thankful that because of Christ's sacrificial death she is now alive in heaven. And I am so thankful that one day I will see her beautiful angel face again.
December 05, 2009
December 01, 2009
The Impossible
Recently I listened to a sermon by our former pastor and good friend, Robert Woodyard. It was about how God puts us in impossible situations so that He will be known and we will see our complete dependence on Him.
In May when our doctor gave us Anne Marie's diagnosis of congenital diaphragmatic hernia, he told us there was a 50 percent mortality rate. I knew what the statistics were, yet I never saw this as an impossible situation. I knew without a doubt that God could heal her. God, the Creator of the universe, who created everything ex nihilo, could cause Anne Marie's lungs to grow and work if, in His providence, He chose to do so. This was not an impossible situation for God. Not even close. And although God's providential plan wasn't what I had hoped it would be, I still know without a doubt that God could have healed her if he had chosen to do so. Impossible never crossed my mind.
It is only now that I am faced with a seemingly impossible situation. It seems impossible that the crushing sadness I am feeling will ever go away. It seems impossible that this ache that is so deep that it sometimes literally takes my breath away will ever be gone. I know that nothing is impossible with God, and yet I feel these empty arms and I miss Anne Marie so much that it seems impossible that God could heal such a heartache.
But then I recall the extraordinary things God has done for us already. The 37 amazing days we had with our girl. The grace and mercy He poured out on us daily. The many answered prayers and the many "impossible situations" made possible. I know the promises of God and I know that healing this heartache is not impossible for Him. I know that God is my refuge and my strength (Psalm 46:1) and that He is the God of all comfort (2 Corinthians 1:3). I know that the Lord is righteous in all his ways and loving towards all he has made and that He is near to all who call on Him (Psalm 145:17-18). And I remind myself again that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28).
I have seen God do things doctors and others thought were impossible. I have seen many extraordinary things done, not only in Anne Marie, but in me and in others. In his sermon, Pastor Woodyard also said that faith grows in the darkest soil. My soil is dark right now, the darkest I have known. So once again, I wait for God to do something extraordinary. For God to use this dark soil and redeem this heartache and to give me beauty for ashes. And again I ask Him to help me trust him and to believe with my heart what my eyes cannot see.
In May when our doctor gave us Anne Marie's diagnosis of congenital diaphragmatic hernia, he told us there was a 50 percent mortality rate. I knew what the statistics were, yet I never saw this as an impossible situation. I knew without a doubt that God could heal her. God, the Creator of the universe, who created everything ex nihilo, could cause Anne Marie's lungs to grow and work if, in His providence, He chose to do so. This was not an impossible situation for God. Not even close. And although God's providential plan wasn't what I had hoped it would be, I still know without a doubt that God could have healed her if he had chosen to do so. Impossible never crossed my mind.
It is only now that I am faced with a seemingly impossible situation. It seems impossible that the crushing sadness I am feeling will ever go away. It seems impossible that this ache that is so deep that it sometimes literally takes my breath away will ever be gone. I know that nothing is impossible with God, and yet I feel these empty arms and I miss Anne Marie so much that it seems impossible that God could heal such a heartache. But then I recall the extraordinary things God has done for us already. The 37 amazing days we had with our girl. The grace and mercy He poured out on us daily. The many answered prayers and the many "impossible situations" made possible. I know the promises of God and I know that healing this heartache is not impossible for Him. I know that God is my refuge and my strength (Psalm 46:1) and that He is the God of all comfort (2 Corinthians 1:3). I know that the Lord is righteous in all his ways and loving towards all he has made and that He is near to all who call on Him (Psalm 145:17-18). And I remind myself again that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28).
I have seen God do things doctors and others thought were impossible. I have seen many extraordinary things done, not only in Anne Marie, but in me and in others. In his sermon, Pastor Woodyard also said that faith grows in the darkest soil. My soil is dark right now, the darkest I have known. So once again, I wait for God to do something extraordinary. For God to use this dark soil and redeem this heartache and to give me beauty for ashes. And again I ask Him to help me trust him and to believe with my heart what my eyes cannot see.
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