"I happy now"

In the past few months, we have had to start implementing some discipline techniques for our sweet daughter. Our sweet daughter who is finding her voice and using it to say "No!" at inopportune times ... like when I want her to say "Yes."

Fortunately — (for her and us) — putting her in time-out and sitting her on the step are working (for now).

We talk a lot in our family about happy hearts, the joy of the Lord, and shining brightly for Jesus. Both our children's names are derivatives of "light".

Luke = Bringer of truth and light
Laney = Bright light

I pray so often that our family would "shine among them like stars in the sky" (Philippians 2:15).  Not so that we would be elevated, or seen as the "perfect family", but so that God would be glorified through His work in us.

All that said, when we send Laney to the step, we tell her she can come off when she has a happy heart and is ready to obey. So she goes and after hardly any time at all, she jumps up, comes running, yelling, "I happy now!" And 95% of the time, she is ready to do what I've asked her to do. (Why is getting dressed such a downer for two year olds?! And I won't even start on getting in the car seat.)

Wow. If only the rest of us could change our attitudes so quickly. If only we were as quick to transition from frustration into joy. Another reason God tells us to be like the little children, right?

My segue is going to be clunky but it's happening anyway. I'm moving from Laney's happy heart to Luke's.

For the past month, the word "SURPRISE" has been on our fridge calendar, in bold letters on the June 25 square. Luke's guesses ranged from new temporary tattoos to a moped. He wasn't even close.

On late Tuesday afternoon, we snuck our bags in the back of the Odyssey, buckled him in and drove down to our neighborhood mailbox, where his "clue" was taped to the back.

He may have gotten a little excited when he figured it out ...

The envelope his "clue" came in said, "To Luke: For your outstanding work in kindergarten."

The next 45 minutes were hilarious and a memory Rog and I will treasure forever. Our boy is a gabber, but this was a whole new level. He couldn't stop talking or bouncing.

We checked in and spent very little time exploring ... it was Luke's agenda and his agenda was to hit the waterpark. To be honest, I was surprised with how brave my cautious boy was. The yellow slide (below) he rode first is pretty big ... one where you have to lie on your back and cross your arms and legs. He didn't even hesitate! He got to the bottom and raced back to do it again (and again).

Luke rode every slide except the Howling Tornado. 4" too short for that one. It was a blast. He loved it so much, especially the one where all three of us could go on together. We debated about bringing Laney, but I think it was the right choice to leave her to adventure with Nonna. She would have enjoyed the waterpark, but it was so special having one-on-one time with Luke.

It was getting close to 6pm, and we knew we had to get food in him, even though Luke wanted to stay in the waterpark longer. The grouchies hit as we were waiting for our food, but a little glow-in-the-dark putt-putt golf perked him right up.

After another waterpark session in the morning, it was time to head home and get our sweet girl and give her the pink wolf Luke "bought" for her.

In case you were worried about poor Laney missing out on our big Great Wolf Lodge adventure, rest assured:

Happy was her heart, too.

Sat check

I woke up really early on Wednesday. Early even for me, an earlybird. I tried to go back to sleep but after several futile minutes, decided to just start my run earlier than I planned. I went fast and hard and with each footfall, peace was shouldering out the high levels of anxiety I had woken with.

Luke's cardiology appointments always do this to me. How can a single machine that clips on a finger cause a person so much turmoil? Wednesday's appointment was a simple sat check, but of course that machine produces a number and that number can determine how Luke's heart is handling his "unique" circulation.

At the end of my run I texted a response to my friend who had asked how I was feeling, "This is what I know this morning: I trust God." I knew that whatever that number showed a couple hours later, I would need to hold tightly to that peace I felt post-run.

Luke's sats were 82-83% in the office Wednesday morning. I won't lie, I was hoping for a little higher, but I also have two days of perspective under my belt, so can see that the difference between an 83% and an 85% is very small in the scheme of things. It doesn't change the course of action, which continues to be the "watch and wait" approach.

Two days later, I also feel a little ashamed of myself. I have a SIX AND A HALF YEAR OLD who just soared through kindergarten and I was choosing to focus on a number I didn't like. I have a miracle boy who other doctors are watching because he is so much older than the typical single ventricle child to have yet had the Fontan. His left ventricle is super strong. He reads voraciously. He wrestles with his sister. And GOD KNOWS BETTER THAN ME when it's time for the Fontan.

We will check back in with Dr. Kim in September, for a full work-up, and most likely schedule a catheterization for the spring, to get an even closer look at this heart God created.

Thank you to those who follow our story, who pray for us and love our boy. He is one fantastic kid.

Hula-dancing graduate

Luke is only a kindergartner for 7 more days. As of June 18, he will officially be a first-grader, going to school full day.

If only he weren't such a sad kindergartener...

Don't get me wrong, he has had his share of tears this year, and his share of worries, especially at morning drop off. Watching him today, I cried my own tears. Tears of pride and gratitude at how far he's come ... not just this school year, but in his six short years. From a tiny baby who's heart could not sustain life to this vibrant, flourishing, graduating six-year-old.

My husband came to the graduation program this morning and texted me this afterward:

"I really love you! Sometimes the emotions are so huge I just can't breathe. What a miracle we have!"

Perfectly said. And exactly what I was feeling as I watched him hula and sing and be goofy with his friends.

Your faithfulness, O Lord, overwhelms me today. You have carried Luke thus far, loving him even more than we do, and we trust that You will carry him today on.

You wear your name well, Luke. You are a bringer of light into our lives.

 

You will rock first grade.

We love you.

What's in a Name, Part III*

My blog-world turned real-life friend, Angie, is down from Alaska right now at Seattle Children's hospital. Her five-year-old daughter, Natalie just had her Fontan Thursday morning. The girl is doing the really, really hard work of recovery and praise God, already moving to the floor later today.

Having gone through two open-heart surgeries with our son, I have an idea of what Angie and her family is going through right now. More of an idea than a lot of people.

But I can't know know.

It wasn't until after Luke's two surgeries in his first year that I entered bloggy land and started meeting moms and dads around the country who could relate to the emotions and fears I felt. Then I joined Mended Little Hearts and met even more moms and dads who got it. We connected on that "I get it" level. They knew what it was like to battle to get your kid to gain ounces. To be in the hospital day after day and just want to steal your baby out of there. We smiled at each other when we pulled out the Purell bottle at the same time.

Yes, they could relate. But even they couldn't know know.

I struggled with this for a long time. Feeling alone because no one "got it". Feeling resentful that even if I shared until I was blue in the face, my friends couldn't fully understand. I wanted them to and even, for a while, pulled back from friendships because they just couldn't. And I have wonderful friends. Friends who called and texted and brought meals and prayed and visited.

It took me coming up from air after Luke's intense first year and a half for God to get through to me with this most valuable, precious lesson. One that I cling to when those feelings of frustration bubble up:

"I have not missed one moment." 

When the thoughts roll in, "She has no idea", "He can't even imagine", God whispers, "I know."

There's actually a name for God in the Bible that portrays this aspect of His character. We often hear the term "omniscient" used to characterize God, which is true and good, but that word can make God seem far away, watching over everything and everyone from a distance.

That's why I've fallen in love with the name used by Hagar, in the midst of her despair as she runs away from Abraham and Sarah in Genesis 16:13. El Roi, the God who sees me.

Connecting with other heart families has been a tremendous gift in my life. The conversations are rich and encouraging. But if I am dependent on people to meet the need to be seen and know, I am going to be sorely disappointed. I can encourage Angie today as she sits with her daughter in the hospital. I can pray for her and Natalie and someday, I am going to be in her place, with Luke in the CICU. But I can't know every thought and emotion she's feeling or see every tear that falls.

What I pray most for her and me and all my heart family friends is that in those dark times of anguish, that we would fall into the truth that God is right there, never slumbering or looking away. How that's possible I have no idea, but I trust it. And I need it. We all have a God-given need to be known. God wouldn't give us that desire if He couldn't fill it.

Luke's neighbor friend asked me the other day why Luke sometimes wanted a piggy-back up our huge neighborhood hill. Luke is so typical in so many ways, he hadn't even remembered about Luke's heart defect. In traditional fashion, my first emotion was sadness that Luke is different and that even my neighbors have no clue as to the severity of his defect and history.

This blog post had been spinning around my brain for a while now, and God used it to bring me back to what's true. His knowing is enough.


*There actually is a Part I and II :)

23 months, 4 weeks

My email pinged with a notification from BabyCenter.com. It was the last newsletter of my baby's "babyhood". I have told Laney multiple times over the past weeks that she is, under no uncertain terms, not allowed to turn two.

She is being one disobedient little girl.

Because Friday is coming very fast. The girl can make me laugh, she can captivate me; she can jump and talk and run; she can make me crazy and she can bring overwhelming joy, but she can't stop time any more than I can.

So, with or without my approval, this girl is turning two on Friday.

She has brought our family such healing these past two years. She may never know the gift she is to our home, but I will spend her life trying to help her understand her worth.

In celebration of her, we put on a "Purple Party" for her Friday night (or, "Poo-poo party" in her words. I can't tell you how many times Luke would ask Laney to say that, then roll in laughter).

(I didn't laugh at all. I would never encourage potty humor.)

My sister, her husband, and their sweet little Pritchett flew up for the weekend, so Luke and Laney got some cousin time.

Poor guy.

And poor guys. The tiaras had to be worn:

Laney-bug, I can't believe you're two. Do you know how prayed for you were? And are? God handmade you to be the perfect completion of our family. You bring smiles to all three of us every single day.

When you say, "Ahhh, doggone it", we smile.

When you sing with abandon into your microphone, we smile.

When you ask me where Bubby is, even just a few minutes after we've dropped him off at school, I smile.

You are such a blend of shy and outgoing; complacent and feisty. I love that you don't let your Bubby walk all over you. Because he can be a boss! You have no trouble telling him no, or stop, or don't.

You are my little chatterbox, hardly stopping to take a breath most days. You love to know where everyone is, and what everyone is doing. "What are you doing, Daddy?" Your curiosity will serve you well!

You are my little morning buddy, running errands with me, getting Starbucks together, going to the gym or for a run. Next year, when Luke is in full-day school, we will have most of the day together. And just think, almost a full day of playing with your toys how you want to! I am so thankful for my work schedule that allows me to spend all that time with you. I know your school years will come quickly.

You are my flexible child. You transition well, and even though you would prefer to stay with mom or dad, you go with other caregivers really well. Maybe one or two tears at the beginning, but then you adjust quickly. You go willingly into the church and gym nurseries, and you absolutely love your two half days a week at Nonna's house. She has so much for you to do down there: Worm hunting, tea parties, gardening, painting, trampoline-jumping, and lots and lots of jewelry.

Every other Wednesday, you spend the morning with your friend Leighton, who is just 5 weeks younger than you. For the most part, you girls play great together and with her dark hair and your blond, you two are the cutest pair on the block.

I love that you love your sleep. You sleep 11-12 hours each night, taking a 1.5-2 hour nap each afternoon. Usually, you wake up singing, although lately, you are calling out, "Momma! I have to go pee-pee!" Yes, you are out of diapers. This was unplanned and completely shocking to me, but after you asked to go to the toilet a couple of times, I figured I better run with it. There are even a lot of mornings that your pull-up is dry from overnight.

In tops and bottoms, you wear a size 2T and I am guessing you weigh about 27 or 28 pounds. You still carry your baby fat and I am nowhere near ready for that to go away. I could eat you up my sweet daughter.

We couldn't love you more, Laney. Your heart is beautiful and I pray every day it would grow to love Jesus as your best friend. I think back to when I was pregnant with you. Whatever I pictured you to be was not even close to who you are.

Happy Birthday, Laney-bug.