Dear Zach,
Whenever I think back to December of 2007, my heart warms as I recall those few weeks when you and I's relationship transformed from a friendship to a budding romance. I can clearly remember the moment on the evening of November 30, 2007 that the "scales were removed from my eyes" and I suddenly saw you in a completely new light - a light that you would also soon recognize that would lead to the beginning of our official dating relationship on December 31, 2007.
As most can attest, the first few weeks of any relationship are some of the most exhilarating because of the excitement and newness of the experience. I can certainly say that that was true for us in December of 2007. What I remember the most were snowy, freezing walks in the wee hours of the night all around the city of Wheaton. We wanted an excuse to be alone together, and our budding feelings for one another seemed to completely outweigh the subzero wind chills and slippery streets. I remember my stomach jumping when you would send me a text message, my heart fluttering when I would see you walking from the BGC after Hermeneutics class, my face glowing when I told my roommates you had officially asked me on our first date. I remember hours of endless conversation; the beauty of the moment you first held my hand; kicking field goals illegally on Wheaton's football field in the snow in the middle of the night; snowball fights in Memorial Park; trips to our bridge in downtown Wheaton; exam "study" sessions that accomplished almost nothing. In short, that month laid the foundation of our relationship to come, and the giddiness of our "inlikeness" was the first step to the glory of our "inloveness" that would come months later.
During our one year and eleven days of dating, we learned how to love each other. Of course I still remember the moment you first told me you loved me on the night of May 8, but that was only the beginning of actually knowing what loving each other meant. It began as the verbal profession, and it grew into a deep understanding that loving each other involved so much more than simply saying so. In those early days, loving each other looked like spending every moment we could together, sacrificing closeness in opposite sex friendships to prioritize one another, getting up at odd hours of the night to talk while in different time zones, being completely honest with one another about our pasts, and so on. Our understanding of love would grow and change and develop throughout that year and eleven days, and by January 11, 2009, we knew that this love that we shared would remain strong for the rest of our lives. You asked me to marry you that night on the same snowy bridge we had walked to so many times before, but that night was the first time we walked away knowing for certain that our love would be eternal.
On August 1, 2009, we sealed our love by professing our vows of marriage in a small, white country church on a blazing hot summer day in middle Tennessee. The day itself was perfect -- everything I as a bride could have ever wanted in a wedding day -- and yet when I look at our wedding pictures, I think my biggest smile can be seen as you are pulling me through bubbles toward our red truck at the very end of the evening. You opened my car door, settled me in despite my bulky dress, and we waved and beamed back at our wedding guests as we drove off into the moonlight. I was finally and officially yours, and our twoness had become unified into one flesh. Our love had reached a new peak once again.
Now, incredibly, we are exactly one year out from our wedding day, and I can officially say that we have had the craziest year of our lives. Our honeymoon to Mexico was immediately followed by a cross country move to Oregon in August, the beginning of our new teaching jobs in September, and the somewhat startling news that we were going to welcome a new member of our family at the beginning of December. After a somewhat calm winter and spring, though, our summer became crazy again with applications for graduate school in January, another cross-town move, a 3 week trip across the country, and, of course, the terrifying yet perfect birth of our little Charis. In some ways, I think we may look back on this year as a blur, and yet in other ways, I feel like every detail was imperative to shaping our love to exactly what God wanted it to look like.
We certainly did not choose the easy or comfortable road for our first year of marriage. We easily could have stayed in Wheaton where we were both already employed and well-connected and sailed through our first year without the added stresses that our new life in Oregon brought. Yet even though we have certainly had our ups and downs and not every moment has been easy, I don't regret our decisions in the least because 1) our life has truly been abundant and 2) ultimately, God has been good to us. Faithful. Hope-giving. Forgiving. Merciful. Good.
So, then, the question remains -- have we achieved our goal of falling more deeply in love with each other with every passing year? While the answer in my mind is certainly a yes, I must admit that our love for each other looks much different now than it ever has. Today on our anniversary it looks like changing dirty diapers at 2 in the morning, sacrificing sleep to be able to spend moments with just the two of us, leaving love notes on my pillow, running to the store when I don't feel like getting off of the couch. It might not be as giddy or glamorous as it once was, and yet it is deeper, truer, more real. I love you with all my heart, baby. I can't wait for this journey of marriage, of parenthood, and of love to continue forever.
Happy 1 year anniversary!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Some Reflections at 6 Days Old
Yesterday afternoon, our little family of three finally made it home from the hospital, and despite Zach and I's exhaustion, I cannot even express how thankful we are to finally be here. Now that we've had a few days to get to know Charis and to reflect back on the scary events of last Wednesday, I've been able to process the day a little more than I did in the whirlwind of her birth. Here are some random thoughts and emotions that we've shared over the past few days. . .
1. A few nights ago I asked Zach how far he had let his mind go before Charis' birth in terms of dealing with the reality that we might actually lose her. Both of us admitted that in those few hours of uncertainty, we had both thought about that possibility seriously, even though it was obviously difficult to even fathom what that would mean in our lives. Questions came in my mind like, "What will I do in the fall since I have no job?" or "Would we have a funeral or memorial service for her?" or "What would we do with all of her baby shower presents?" and most fearfullly, "How would we have the strength to cope with such a loss in our lives?" As much as I didn't want to think about these questions, the reality was that losing her was a very definitive possibility. As I laid on the operating table, I called to mind Psalm 139 where I thanked the Lord for creating little Charis perfectly in my womb. The part of that passage that really caught my attention in that moment was the verse that says, " You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed" (Psalm 139:16). I tried to give her back again to the Lord and trust that each moment of her life had been ordained for a purpose - even if it were to end in the next few hours. From the beginning of time, God knew his plans for little Charis, and I tried to force myself to trust and rest in that knowledge as fear and emotion gripped my heart, as well. As I was trying to cling to those verses during the operation, Zach said that the Lord had given him the verses from Job 1: "You give and take away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." He knew Charis was not necessarily our own, but a gift given to us by the Lord for a specific reason. If it were her time to be taken back home to be with Jesus, he wanted to be able to still stand on that verse and hopefully live it if she were to not make it through the operation.
2. I must admit that my post-partum emotions have been a bit out of control, and there have been a few times already where I have literally gone from crying to laughing hysterically back to crying in the matter of about 3 minutes. One of those times (well, okay, at least just a "crying" time) happened last night when I was singing to Charis as I fed her. I began to sing "Great Is Thy Faithfulness" (yes, I know, I probably should have seen the tears coming), but this song that I've sung hundreds of times throughout life hit me in an entirely new way in that moment.
"Great is thy faithfulness,
Great is thy faithfulness,
Morning by morning new mercies I see."
The phrase "morning by morning" hit me hard as I considered the morning of her birthday when God mercifully allowed me to sense that something was wrong with her movements and act on the apprehension immediately. Our doctor told us more than once that if we would have come into to the hospital sometime in the evening of that day rather than the morning, we would have lost her. Morning by morning new mercies I see. What mercy we saw on the morning of July 14 in the life of our little girl.
As if that wasn't poignant enough, I continued on to verse three:
"Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide,
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow
Blessings all mine and ten thousand beside."
The last two lines caught my attention as I thanked the Lord for giving me enough strength for each day (even when feeding every 2-3 hours is admittedly daunting), but it was the last line that finally did me in. I cannot even begin to express how blessed we feel to have made it through such harrowing circumstances and come out with a beautiful, perfect daughter on the other side. Not only that, but the prayer support we've received, as well as the literal help we've been given (receiving meals, friends helping with airport runs, housecleaning, moving, etc.) has been overwhelming. I could only wipe tears from my face as I thanked the Lord for what feels like at least "ten thousand" blessings.
3. Speaking of blessings in my life, my husband has been absolutely incredible through this whole experience. He has served me, supported me, loved me, pampered me, changed way more dirty diapers than me, stayed by my side through the whole process, comforted me, held me, prayed for and with me. . . and he is also completely smitten with Charis, which is one of the sweetest parts to watch. As we prepare to celebrate just one year of marriage on August 1, I feel more in love with my wonderful husband than ever. I cannot wait to walk this journey of parenthood with him for the rest of our lives.
Charis is beginning to stir beside me, so it looks like the feeding/diaper changing festivities are about to begin again. Thank you, Lord, for this blessing of new life.
1. A few nights ago I asked Zach how far he had let his mind go before Charis' birth in terms of dealing with the reality that we might actually lose her. Both of us admitted that in those few hours of uncertainty, we had both thought about that possibility seriously, even though it was obviously difficult to even fathom what that would mean in our lives. Questions came in my mind like, "What will I do in the fall since I have no job?" or "Would we have a funeral or memorial service for her?" or "What would we do with all of her baby shower presents?" and most fearfullly, "How would we have the strength to cope with such a loss in our lives?" As much as I didn't want to think about these questions, the reality was that losing her was a very definitive possibility. As I laid on the operating table, I called to mind Psalm 139 where I thanked the Lord for creating little Charis perfectly in my womb. The part of that passage that really caught my attention in that moment was the verse that says, " You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed" (Psalm 139:16). I tried to give her back again to the Lord and trust that each moment of her life had been ordained for a purpose - even if it were to end in the next few hours. From the beginning of time, God knew his plans for little Charis, and I tried to force myself to trust and rest in that knowledge as fear and emotion gripped my heart, as well. As I was trying to cling to those verses during the operation, Zach said that the Lord had given him the verses from Job 1: "You give and take away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." He knew Charis was not necessarily our own, but a gift given to us by the Lord for a specific reason. If it were her time to be taken back home to be with Jesus, he wanted to be able to still stand on that verse and hopefully live it if she were to not make it through the operation.
2. I must admit that my post-partum emotions have been a bit out of control, and there have been a few times already where I have literally gone from crying to laughing hysterically back to crying in the matter of about 3 minutes. One of those times (well, okay, at least just a "crying" time) happened last night when I was singing to Charis as I fed her. I began to sing "Great Is Thy Faithfulness" (yes, I know, I probably should have seen the tears coming), but this song that I've sung hundreds of times throughout life hit me in an entirely new way in that moment.
"Great is thy faithfulness,
Great is thy faithfulness,
Morning by morning new mercies I see."
The phrase "morning by morning" hit me hard as I considered the morning of her birthday when God mercifully allowed me to sense that something was wrong with her movements and act on the apprehension immediately. Our doctor told us more than once that if we would have come into to the hospital sometime in the evening of that day rather than the morning, we would have lost her. Morning by morning new mercies I see. What mercy we saw on the morning of July 14 in the life of our little girl.
As if that wasn't poignant enough, I continued on to verse three:
"Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide,
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow
Blessings all mine and ten thousand beside."
The last two lines caught my attention as I thanked the Lord for giving me enough strength for each day (even when feeding every 2-3 hours is admittedly daunting), but it was the last line that finally did me in. I cannot even begin to express how blessed we feel to have made it through such harrowing circumstances and come out with a beautiful, perfect daughter on the other side. Not only that, but the prayer support we've received, as well as the literal help we've been given (receiving meals, friends helping with airport runs, housecleaning, moving, etc.) has been overwhelming. I could only wipe tears from my face as I thanked the Lord for what feels like at least "ten thousand" blessings.
3. Speaking of blessings in my life, my husband has been absolutely incredible through this whole experience. He has served me, supported me, loved me, pampered me, changed way more dirty diapers than me, stayed by my side through the whole process, comforted me, held me, prayed for and with me. . . and he is also completely smitten with Charis, which is one of the sweetest parts to watch. As we prepare to celebrate just one year of marriage on August 1, I feel more in love with my wonderful husband than ever. I cannot wait to walk this journey of parenthood with him for the rest of our lives.
Charis is beginning to stir beside me, so it looks like the feeding/diaper changing festivities are about to begin again. Thank you, Lord, for this blessing of new life.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Our Dearest Charis
Dear Charis,
Two days ago, you made a rather dramatic entrance into the world, and I must say that it was probably both the best and worst day of Daddy and I’s lives. Now that you are here, though, we love you so much and could not be more thankful that you (ultimately) arrived safely!
I woke up on July 14 around 7:15 am, and I noticed that you weren’t being much of a wiggleworm during breakfast (when you are usually pretty active). The thought lingered in the back of my mind, and as more time passed, I started to get a little apprehensive about your lack of movement. I know that most babies your age move at least 10 different times over a period of two hours, and once two hours had passed, I was sure I hadn’t felt you wiggle at all. I told Daddy about it, and we decided to call Dr. Sewell at around 9:15 am. We were cleaning our Callahan Drive house because we had to move out the next day.
After I called the doctor, they called me back around 9:50 and told me to go drink a tall glass of ice water quickly; usually that prompts babies to wiggle around because of the cold shock to their system. She said that if I still didn’t feel you move I should call back and get in for an exam immediately. Daddy and I drove through Wendy’s, I downed a large glass of water, and unfortunately you still did not respond. It was at this point that we began to fear the worst for you, especially when the nurse told us to get to the hospital immediately.
We went to the Mercy Hospital Birthing Ward, and a nice English nurse brought us back to listen to your heart beat. She found your heart beat immediately, and Daddy and I literally cried with relief; we really weren’t sure if your heart beat was still there at all. Unfortunately, though, as she monitored your progress, she noticed that your heart rate was too consistent; most babies your age have big fluctuations in their heart rates because they are wiggling around, but yours stayed right between 151-154 BPM over a period of about 20 minutes. Not only that, but she also tried to stimulate you with a loud buzz right on my tummy. Still, no response from you. The nurse voiced her concern and called Dr. Sewell to come have a look at what should be done.
The last test they did on you was an ultrasound that lasted about 25 minutes. We couldn’t read the doctor’s facial expression very well, but once he began discussing the results of the ultra sound with Dr. Sewell, we knew something was very wrong. He mentioned that you hadn’t moved the entire time and that he possibly saw part of the placenta floating separately from the rest of it. Dr. Sewell informed us that you were at a very high risk and needed to be delivered immediately. She even suggested that we be life-flighted to Eugene because of the serious circumstances (and because you were only 35 weeks, 6 days old), but she did not think we even had time to do that. You were in too much danger, and you needed to be delivered immediately.
Within ten or fifteen minutes of that conversation, Daddy and I were terrified and were signing all sorts of documents to prepare me for an emergency C-Section. As they put me in a wheelchair to bring me to the O.R., I had probably the most intense emotional breakdown of my life -- I collapsed in Daddy’s arms in tearful sobs because I was so scared for your life and felt so powerless to help you. The nurse held us both, as well, and tried to encourage us as much as possible as she wheeled me to the OR. Unfortunately, our emotions only became more dramatic because they wouldn’t let Daddy come in the room for a few minutes as they gave me my anesthesia and prepared me for the surgery. He also had a really difficult time as he waited out in the hall, but in God’s providence a friend who happened to be walking by stopped and prayed for him. I was also blessed because Dr. Sewell held me and prayed for me on the operating table as I was receiving my spinal tap. Both of these experiences helped calm us down a bit, although we were both still scared to death and had no idea what to expect.
They finally let Daddy back in the OR, and within minutes they were ready to bring you into the world. You came out without too much trouble at 12:44 p.m., and Daddy and I’s tears flowed again when you immediately cried after they delivered you. Dr. Sewell was VERY pleasantly surprised at how good you looked and sounded right after delivery; Daddy even got to hold you for a few minutes before they whisked you back to the nursery. The doctors sewed me back up and took me over to one hour of solitary recovery while Daddy got to spend some time looking at you and holding your hand in the nursery. You immediately had a few small issues - low blood sugar, low white blood cell count, etc. -- but miraculously you were SO much healthier than originally thought. They decided immediately that you wouldn’t have to be life-flighted to Eugene and that they expected you to make a full recovery. We could not have been more thrilled!
Shortly after you were born, Daddy called your grandparents to let them know that you were doing well and had made it through the whole ordeal with such unexpected strength. One of the most emotional moments was when he called Mimi Tunney and finally verbalized that both you and I were doing well; both Daddy and Mimi began crying all over again in total gratefulness for the fact that you were okay. You are such a fighter, and God's grace (charis) was sufficient for us.
The last two days have been spent traveling down to visit you in the nursery with ever-increasing frequency as you have become stronger and more stable. It looks like you will even get to spend the night with us in our room tonight, and we can’t wait! You have also had many visitors who love you so much and are dying to see you, as well as tons of relatives who are in love with you already. No one loves you more than your mommy and daddy, though; you will always be our incredible little miracle baby girl.
We love you so much!!
Daddy and Mommy
Two days ago, you made a rather dramatic entrance into the world, and I must say that it was probably both the best and worst day of Daddy and I’s lives. Now that you are here, though, we love you so much and could not be more thankful that you (ultimately) arrived safely!
I woke up on July 14 around 7:15 am, and I noticed that you weren’t being much of a wiggleworm during breakfast (when you are usually pretty active). The thought lingered in the back of my mind, and as more time passed, I started to get a little apprehensive about your lack of movement. I know that most babies your age move at least 10 different times over a period of two hours, and once two hours had passed, I was sure I hadn’t felt you wiggle at all. I told Daddy about it, and we decided to call Dr. Sewell at around 9:15 am. We were cleaning our Callahan Drive house because we had to move out the next day.
After I called the doctor, they called me back around 9:50 and told me to go drink a tall glass of ice water quickly; usually that prompts babies to wiggle around because of the cold shock to their system. She said that if I still didn’t feel you move I should call back and get in for an exam immediately. Daddy and I drove through Wendy’s, I downed a large glass of water, and unfortunately you still did not respond. It was at this point that we began to fear the worst for you, especially when the nurse told us to get to the hospital immediately.
We went to the Mercy Hospital Birthing Ward, and a nice English nurse brought us back to listen to your heart beat. She found your heart beat immediately, and Daddy and I literally cried with relief; we really weren’t sure if your heart beat was still there at all. Unfortunately, though, as she monitored your progress, she noticed that your heart rate was too consistent; most babies your age have big fluctuations in their heart rates because they are wiggling around, but yours stayed right between 151-154 BPM over a period of about 20 minutes. Not only that, but she also tried to stimulate you with a loud buzz right on my tummy. Still, no response from you. The nurse voiced her concern and called Dr. Sewell to come have a look at what should be done.
The last test they did on you was an ultrasound that lasted about 25 minutes. We couldn’t read the doctor’s facial expression very well, but once he began discussing the results of the ultra sound with Dr. Sewell, we knew something was very wrong. He mentioned that you hadn’t moved the entire time and that he possibly saw part of the placenta floating separately from the rest of it. Dr. Sewell informed us that you were at a very high risk and needed to be delivered immediately. She even suggested that we be life-flighted to Eugene because of the serious circumstances (and because you were only 35 weeks, 6 days old), but she did not think we even had time to do that. You were in too much danger, and you needed to be delivered immediately.
Within ten or fifteen minutes of that conversation, Daddy and I were terrified and were signing all sorts of documents to prepare me for an emergency C-Section. As they put me in a wheelchair to bring me to the O.R., I had probably the most intense emotional breakdown of my life -- I collapsed in Daddy’s arms in tearful sobs because I was so scared for your life and felt so powerless to help you. The nurse held us both, as well, and tried to encourage us as much as possible as she wheeled me to the OR. Unfortunately, our emotions only became more dramatic because they wouldn’t let Daddy come in the room for a few minutes as they gave me my anesthesia and prepared me for the surgery. He also had a really difficult time as he waited out in the hall, but in God’s providence a friend who happened to be walking by stopped and prayed for him. I was also blessed because Dr. Sewell held me and prayed for me on the operating table as I was receiving my spinal tap. Both of these experiences helped calm us down a bit, although we were both still scared to death and had no idea what to expect.
They finally let Daddy back in the OR, and within minutes they were ready to bring you into the world. You came out without too much trouble at 12:44 p.m., and Daddy and I’s tears flowed again when you immediately cried after they delivered you. Dr. Sewell was VERY pleasantly surprised at how good you looked and sounded right after delivery; Daddy even got to hold you for a few minutes before they whisked you back to the nursery. The doctors sewed me back up and took me over to one hour of solitary recovery while Daddy got to spend some time looking at you and holding your hand in the nursery. You immediately had a few small issues - low blood sugar, low white blood cell count, etc. -- but miraculously you were SO much healthier than originally thought. They decided immediately that you wouldn’t have to be life-flighted to Eugene and that they expected you to make a full recovery. We could not have been more thrilled!
Shortly after you were born, Daddy called your grandparents to let them know that you were doing well and had made it through the whole ordeal with such unexpected strength. One of the most emotional moments was when he called Mimi Tunney and finally verbalized that both you and I were doing well; both Daddy and Mimi began crying all over again in total gratefulness for the fact that you were okay. You are such a fighter, and God's grace (charis) was sufficient for us.
The last two days have been spent traveling down to visit you in the nursery with ever-increasing frequency as you have become stronger and more stable. It looks like you will even get to spend the night with us in our room tonight, and we can’t wait! You have also had many visitors who love you so much and are dying to see you, as well as tons of relatives who are in love with you already. No one loves you more than your mommy and daddy, though; you will always be our incredible little miracle baby girl.
We love you so much!!
Daddy and Mommy
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