Special Treat with Extra Toppings

Yesterday I sat down to write a note to Lucy's doctor and one of the nurses that touched our lives when Lucy was in the NICU at CMC. I knew I had wanted to do it, but I just hadn't been able to bring myself to do it yet. I almost didn't want to resign myself to it because I felt like it meant I was closing a door, a chapter of my life.

But, they needed to know how we felt. Through the care we received from the staff there in the hospital we knew God was with us and it became clear that this series of events fit (though somewhat tragically for us at the time) into His bigger, master plan. Not that God CAUSED Lucy's death, but that he may have allowed it in knowing it was serving a bigger purpose. It was so clear it was a part of His divine plan by the smooth, peaceful way the events flowed - nothing felt "out of order" as it was happening. Sad, but not "out of order." That's the only way I can find to describe it right at this moment.

The first thing I want to point out is that throughout my pregnancy I prayed a lot. And at some point I started praying very earnestly that God would provide all of the care we needed for our child. That he would put all of the right people in the right places at the right time. I believed that He would, and He did. Jeff and I literally would look at each other at certain moments in the hospital with Lucy where someone would just walk into the room, say one thing we needed to hear and then walk out - true "Godsends." God sends. Yes, God sent people in this case - the RIGHT people. He promised He would provide.

Some of those people were there throughout the course of our journey...

Dr. Andrew Herman was the doctor who initially received Lucy into the NICU. He walked with us throughout her stay there. The day he admitted her to the NICU, he came to my hospital room and told me that Lucy was a "special treat with extra toppings." None of us knew what those extra toppings were at that time (he also said "I deal with a lot of VERY sick babies, and Lucy is not a VERY sick baby"), and none of us could have known yet how serious they really were. We also had no idea how much of a blessing our sweet girl would be either! Throughout Lucy's time in the NICU Dr. Herman was there to give us crucial updates and deliver her diagnosis. He was also there when Lucy took her final breaths. He even heard her sweet sighs during our final night with her. (Without him asking if she was trying to coo I would have thought I made it up in my head). I said to him at one point... "Do you ever go HOME?" He was with us every step of the journey it seemed. He was the first person to remind us of God's plan in all this when he said "I do NOT believe in chance." Yup, Lucy was meant to be ours for a short time, but ultimately she was God's. After he delivered Lucy's diagnosis, he reached for our hands and prayed with us. We knew we wouldn't have Lucy long, but he reassured us that she was going to be ok, telling us "Lucy is innocent in all of this. She will have a front row seat in heaven."

Lucy's nurse Amy Copley was amazing. She was with Lucy for two full days, Thursday and Friday - before we got Lucy's diagnosis. She was so caring and sweet, genuinely celebrating each of Lucy's small victories with us. Whether it was the fact that she handled the testing well, or held her oxygen levels through the night, she rejoiced with us. She called us with a sense of pride to tell us when Lucy cooperated well through the spinal tap testing she had to endure. Her dedication and thorough care was so apparent to us. She was also there with Dr. Herman as he delivered Lucy's diagnosis, crying with us and comforting us. I felt her genuine devastation for our family. We didn't see Nurse Copley over the weekend, but it just so happened that Amy's next shift was immediately following Lucy's death on Monday, July 25th. She helped us get footprints and handprints made and bathe Lucy's sweet little body, more of a ritual for us then anything. It did provide closure in some way, but Lucy was already gone. By the way, I should point out that handprints/footprints are not easy to get - I actually was able to laugh in the moment imagining Lucy looking down from heaven thinking "Mom, you are terrible at this," but also hoping that she saw how much I cared! Just having Amy's presence with us throughout the journey was a huge blessing.

Other people we came into contact with were there in very key moments, providing clarity through confusion...

Lucy's nurse on Sunday - Georgia. In a moment of pure confusion when we took Lucy off the ventilator, Georgia was the nurse who encouraged us to get Avery up to the hospital immediately. I think she sensed the final moments were upon us and knew we needed time as a family. I had hesitated knowing Avery would have to be woken up from her nap and Georgia reminded me I wouldn't get these moments back. We called. We needed Avery there. My mom woke Avery up, luring her with a cookie to hurry her along. That was the day we got to spend as a family with Lucy - her final full day here. I am SO glad that someone was there to make sure Avery was with us. I was so focused on Lucy that had I forgotten to get Avery up there, she would have missed so much. Now because of Georgia's advice we have a lifetime of memories from that day and we will be able to tell Avery stories time and time again. (Avery and I just giggled last night about how she kept trying to lick Lucy's head - silly girl!) Jeff and I also got to wrap our arms around both of our little girls - together, at the same time - a real-life family of 4! It truly felt like it that day. So thankful. When I thanked Georgia later that day, she told me that she had lost a baby at 22 weeks and she remembers the confusion of it all and how she just needed people to tell her what to do, to think for her when she couldn't think for herself. So you're saying God uses our life experiences to help others? Uh-huh. And do we think it was a coincidence that Georgia just happened to be the nurse with us that day? NOPE. To think that we may be that voice to someone else one day and provide that kind of insight is pretty amazing.

Honestly, I don't remember what her title actually was... but I remember Cindy. She seemed to be all over the place and kept continually checking in on us that Sunday that we took Lucy off the ventilator. The one thing I remember clear as day is that she came in and delivered advice to us when we needed it. We were debating if we should stay or go from the hospital on Sunday night, and since Lucy had done fairly well off the ventilator, we were almost feeling that we should go home and just get back as early as we could the next morning. That everything would be fine. I think I knew in my heart of hearts that we needed to stay, but I needed a clear message... it was all very confusing and I couldn't make a decision. Cindy came in as we were talking about it. There was just this giant PAUSE in conversation, and Cindy quietly asked, "Can I give you some advice?" I nodded desperately, thinking, 'Yes, PLEASE, somebody somehow tell us what to DO.' And she said calmly, "I think you should stay tonight." I think I was waiting for God to make it clear what we needed to do and it was VERY crystal clear through her advice. Thank you for that message - we heard it. Lucy passed away deep into the night, as Sunday night peaked to Monday morning. We got precious hours with her that we would not have gotten had we not stayed.

...

Lucy's life was short and that seems unfair. But when I watch Avery get pushed over on the playground, well, that's not fair either. Lucy will not have to experience the hardships that life brings. She won't have to endure the many surgeries that would have been headed her way. What she experienced in her little life was pure, unconditional LOVE and exceptional CARE. When I think about that, it makes me so joyful.

Lucy was truly our "special treat with extra toppings." She will never have to know anything different. And we will never know anything different either. So add another scoop of sprinkles to my ice cream, and add a drizzle of hot fudge, too. I like my treats with the extra toppings!

5 years

Happy 5th Anniversary to us!

When I think about the fact that we have known each other for over 10 years, in many ways "5 years" just doesn't sound right. But, on the day of our wedding five years ago we publicly committed to walk together for the rest of our lives, "for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part." Wow, I love reading those words. Intense to think about forever, right?

We have grown, changed and evolved so much as individuals and also as a couple over the years. On our wedding day we didn't know all that 5 years would hold... the fun and exciting times as well as the emotional and tragic times. But, we vowed to do it all together. I can't think of anyone who I'd rather be experiencing life and love with.

We have found that in the depths of our sorrow we have been reminded of how important a marital bond is (when we've had to cling to one another for strength and support). We also remind each other what it feels like to laugh from time to time, and certainly what it's like to be thankful.

Losing our precious Lucy has sure taught me a lot, but most importantly she has taught me to appreciate what I have. Love, respect and loyalty to this man, and to my family.

I really feel like we don't take many photos of just the two of us nowadays, and certainly haven't felt like it lately... but this weekend I made us flip the camera around and take a photo together. (I was skeptical for many reasons, one of them being that when I'm holding the camera out we usually have 10 chins, but hey, not too bad if I do say so myself):

Though we do look older, eh?

What's that?...

Did I hear someone say "more mature"?

OK, we'll take it.

Baby Sister

Wow - one whole month since Lucy's birth. The days sure can drag, but the time passes so quickly at the same time.

I'm so fearful I'll forget my little angel. I won't, but she was here so briefly that I need to recount my first moments with her - the night we met. When Lucy entered the world, she hardly made a peep - she was so calm, so peaceful. But it was all so... scary! They had prepped me for it, but still I was frantic as my midwife handed her immediately to the neonatal team that was in our room so she could be examined. She had made it full-term at 38 weeks, but her growth had slowed so much that they had no choice but to induce me. The slowed growth, plus the other known factors had me so worried. I was anxious to hear her and see her. To love her.

Once they told us she was breathing great and was fine to go to the regular nursery for the night, she was brought over to me and Jeff - we were absolutely amazed by her - and so hopeful. We were allowed to stay in our delivery room for almost 4 hours and my parents and Avery came in to meet her. Avery was quite curious about her little sister, who still did not have a name at that moment so we kept calling her "baby sister." (Never mind the fact that I had convinced myself and everyone I knew that I was having a boy... but that's a whole different blog post. I was SO wrong!).

Now, speaking of the blog, if you've been visiting here for a while you know that The White Family blog started out as Jeff's movie and TV show review space, and quickly got taken over by me (shame on me) when I got pregnant and wanted to give family updates. Then it pretty much turned into the 'Avery Show' when little miss was born. We started using the blog to give updates to our family and friends detailing Avery's monthly milestones - something I stopped around 18 months. Part of the reason I stopped was because I was pregnant again and wondered if I would really be able to keep up with Avery's monthly updates AND start doing monthly updates for baby #2, too. Little did I know what kind of updates I would be doing at this point.

So, it's one month after Lucy's birth. And though she may not be here with us, she is very much a part of our lives. Every time we drive even remotely near the hospital Avery says, "That's where my baby sister lives." Out of the blue she will ask, "We see Baby Lucy, Mommy?" and she will also make statements, with confidence, like "Lucy, come home with me!" Avery asks to see pictures of Lucy almost every day and she will spread them out on the couch, rub her hands over them, and kiss them.

I want to remember a certain moment with Avery from the night of Lucy's passing. Avery was so fixated on seeing Lucy and bringing her home that night, oblivious to the tragedy that had occurred earlier that day. I realized that she was invested too, just like we were, and we needed to have a straight conversation with her and tell her Lucy wasn't coming home. I had gone in to change her and put her to bed and she asked, "You and Daddy go sleep at the hospital with baby sister?"

me: "No, not tonight. We aren't going to sleep at the hospital."

A: "You not sleep at hospital? Baby Lucy come home?"

me: "No, sweetie, Lucy is not coming home..." (tears welling in my eyes)

A: "What wrong, Mommy?"

me: "Mommy is just sad because baby Lucy isn't coming home."

A: "Why?"

me: "Because she went to be in heaven. She went to be with Jesus."

A: "I want to be with Jesus."

me: "You are with Jesus... he's here with us now. But Lucy was called up to heaven. She will be our angel watching over us."

A: "I want to be an angel."

me: "Well, you are meant to be with Daddy and Mommy right where you are. You know what? We need you here."

A: "OK, Mommy."

I don't know that Avery will remember Lucy or what we are going through right now. But I am so glad that she asks about her, and that we have pictures she can look at together, and that we can talk openly and lovingly around her. Avery and I went and made matching beaded bracelets with angel wings and she calls her new bling her "angel bracelet." I call mine my Lucy bracelet.

Avery will always have her baby sister. I have two baby sisters myself. I can't imagine a day without them. Even through the years when we tortured and tormented one another, my sisters were everything to me. Even though I have faith that my two little girls will have the opportunity to reunite in heaven one day, I'm saddened by the fact that they won't be able to run and play, kiss and hug, and yes, even pull each others hair... here on earth. Talk about a true test of patience. One day, one day. (Well, hopefully without the "pulling each other's hair" part!) ;)

I pray that Avery will always carry a piece of Lucy in her heart by knowing one day how much she made her parents smile even in our darkest of moments. We will always remember Lucy, Avery's baby sister.

Not fair.

Today I spent all morning feeling bad for myself. Pitying poor me. Wishing life had shaken out differently for my family. Let me be straight with you... right now I spend a lot of time feeling like life isn't fair.

Not fair, not fair, not fair.

No matter how strong I can feel, sometimes I just want to be SAD. And this morning I was feeling particularly sad and frustrated. And you know what? I'm actually "ok" with that from time to time. But I'm not ok when my feelings cross into the dangerous terrain of jealousy.

Even with embracing my sadness (and knowing it is perfectly normal), I was still feeling self-pity and wondering why me? And I was burdened with jealousy rearing it's ugly head. Then I thought about the fact that I forgot to read my little devotional today, and figured I could really use a pick-me-up.

So I opened my book up to today's date. This is what it said:

"Accept each day just as it comes to you. Do not waste your time and energy wishing for a different set of circumstances. Instead, trust Me enough to yield to My design and purposes. Remember that nothing can separate you from My loving Presence; you are Mine."

Um, I realize that this is easier said than done...

(Let's face it, I can waste a lot of time and energy even on a good day!)

But I definitely needed this reminder today.

This Little Light of Mine

My mom made me think of the song "This little light of mine" the other day. I used to sing it as a child.

We were talking about how it doesn't feel natural to accept grievances on our family's behalf. We don't like for others to hurt - especially not for us. We worry about how we affect others. I worry about if it's awkward for someone to run into me unexpectedly. I don't like the feeling of not knowing what to say (for that person or for myself).

Pregnancy is a pretty public ordeal nowadays. People talk about it constantly, strangers even offer advice at the grocery store or reach out to touch your belly. Friends and family celebrate alongside you the entire time, preparing you and nurturing you. I remember when I found out about some of the issues that Lucy was going to have prenatally - the cleft lip, and the extra digit on her hand - I wished I could hide the remainder of the pregnancy "just in case" there was something more to it. I had many tears and fears throughout the journey. But, alas, I tried to wear my baby belly proudly. I celebrated the little life growing inside me - a true miracle, no matter what.

But, now I'm experiencing the feeling of wanting to be in hiding once again. I thought I could start venturing out, but oh - it's so difficult. I'm not sure how to act. At times I feel like I'm walking around in a fog, just floating through. Other times I'm over-aware. I start questioning everything. I'm curious if strangers look at me and wonder why I look so sad? Other times I wonder if someone I know is seeing me and wondering why I seem so happy? I find myself wanting to duck behind things and take cover so no one sees me.

I wonder constantly about what will come out of my mouth the first time I run into someone who doesn't know what we've been through and asks excitedly, "Oh, you had the baby!?"

Um, yeah, I had the baby... (weird, awkward pause)...

But there is probably something to exposing the wounds a little, letting them air out. I assume there has to be some healing there. I'm trying to realize that in time getting out will allow my light to shine out into the world a little brighter. (Again, it's so fitting that Lucy's name means "light"). Slowly but surely I will get there.

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.

This little light of mine, I'm gonna let it shine.

Let it shine,

Let it shine,

Let it shine!

Hide it under a bushel... NO! I'm gonna let it shine.

Hide it under a bushel... NO! I'm gonna let it shine.

Hide it under a bushel... NO! I'm gonna let it shine!

Let it shine,

Let it shine,

Let it shine!

And yes, I think the repetitive nature helps the message stick, so I wanted to type each line out! ;)

There is nothing to hide. Some things are private, yes. And how well you know someone dictates how much you are going to share. But I never want to feel like I have to hide myself (or my child) from this world. I want Lucy's light to shine through me. And more importantly I want God's light to shine through me.

Seriously love this kid.

What would we do without this little wonder running around?

Me-oh-my... she brings us smiles!

Avery is a riot, always keeping us entertained...

and she is currently enjoying being spoiled rotten.

You want ice cream?

OK!

A trip to the park?

OK!

To watch Mickey Mouse?

OK!

A chocolate chip cookie?

OK!

A bike for Christmas? (this was an actual request last week)

OK!

A PUPPY?

Oooooh, wait a minute... you almost tricked me.

Avery is also the most tender and comforting child. I am constantly in awe of her lovingness. She is just so intuitive and knows how much we need the extra hugs, cuddles and kisses right now. She tells us she loves us. She rubs our backs and says "it's ok." Avery is a clear reminder of God's love for us.

God is good.

Yes, God is good.

The thing about being a Believer

It's a scary feeling when you talk to family and friends that are heartbroken for us - I hate that people are feeling so much pain - so much of OUR pain has become theirs. I can literally feel the heartache through the emails, phone messages and conversations. I have always considered myself quite "talented" at offering a listening ear, giving advice, praying for and loving others when they are going through a hard time. I whole-heartedly enjoy offering that support and love to others. I find that I'm definitely not-so-great at accepting it for myself, though. I'm working on it. It certainly is nice to know that we don't have to walk through any of this alone.

Some people have mentioned that they are amazed at my faith through these tough times. It hit me one day that it may be easier to cling to faith when you are going through a tough time - you HAVE to. It is through our struggles when we are reminded of God's grace, love and power. We are reminded that we are not in control. We tend to call ourselves "believers," but it is when a challenge unfolds that you will be put to the test. As a "believer" you have two choices: to keep on believing or to walk away from that belief forever. And I know I can't do the latter. So my faith HAS to grow - it has to change. It has to evolve.

Now, I've always found comfort in scripture, but I am somewhat reliant on it right now. I have been picking up the bible over the years here and there, but now at times I cling to it, even fall asleep with it some nights. Scriptures literally collide into one another, I can't read the words quick enough; they jump off the pages at me even when I'm not looking. It is wild!

Sometimes I don't feel very strong, sometimes I don't feel like believing, sometimes I think I could give it all up - but when I relax in Christ's presence, the truth finds me.

"In returning to me and resting in me you shall be saved;

in quietness and trust shall be your strength."

~ Isaiah 30:15

Please feel free to share with me any scripture that reminds you of God's power, peace and love. Thanks!

(BTW, the latest photos are credited to my amazing and talented husband!)