Eliza Larissa Apinis
April 29, 2013
8:29am
8lb 4 oz
22 inches
We are so thrilled to welcome our 5th child to the family! Eliza is a joy already, and we all adore her.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Introducing...
We are so thrilled to welcome our 5th child to the family! Eliza is a joy already, and we all adore her.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Anna Sings
(In other news, I will be full-term on Tuesday. 3 weeks and 2 days until my due date...)
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
10,000 Reasons
There's something about Matt Redman's songs that speak to me deeply. I remember the first time I heard "10,000 Reasons" I choked up as soon as we sang "For all Your goodness I will keep on singing/ 10,000 reasons for my heart to find." And every time I've sung it since, that line strikes a chord deep within my soul. It always makes me think of Samuel -- of how thankful I am to be his mom, of how faithful God was throughout Samuel's short life, of how God has grown us and blessed us through Samuel's life and death, of the rich blessings of loving my third son and of handing him over to Jesus, of how grief has refined me and shaped and made me more like the woman God wants me to be, and 10,000 other Samuel-related reasons. My heart has so, so many reasons to praise God -- ones connected to Samuel and ones that aren't -- but it's the Samuel ones that always spring to mind when I hear this song. It's the goodness of God in the desert place that unearths such gratitude from me -- the way He turned a desert into fertile soil and grew beautiful things from our sorrow and brokenness. Only God can do something like that, and I am so thankful.
Lately Anna (who is now 21 months old) has learned parts of this song. She requests it every time I put her to bed. She tries to lay her little head on my chest, but my now seriously protruding belly has her sitting on my knees and her head barely reaching the top of my wriggling, kicking belly bump. Poor kid has no lap to sit on anymore and bedtime rockings are often accompanied by a chorus of ouches from Anna Pea who simply cannot get comfortable. Once she settles on a position (which never last more than 30 seconds due to that pesky baby sister of hers :) ), Anna lifts her head and asks, "Sun come up?" So I start singing the opening lines of the song, and Anna chimes in with me, asking, "Anna sing too?" She sings in this high-pitched squeal with absolutely no sense of the rhythm, but many of the words are correct. It melts my heart, and I grin my entire way through the song, struggling to hang on to the melody and tempo as Anna is so completely off. It's priceless: praising Jesus with my daughter. It is hands down one of my favorite things ever. And when we get to that line, I am flooded with gratitude for Anna's big brother, for Anna our little healer, for "Belle" who will soon add even more layers to that healing, and for how God will someday redeem the hard parts of Anna's life as He has redeemed the hard parts of mine. It's a washing joy that pours over me as Anna I together declare the Lord's goodness.
As I approach the end of this pregnancy (I'm 35 weeks, and we are still nowhere near ready for Belle's arrival), there have been numerous times when my memories of Samuel have reared up unexpectedly. In general people tend to give me weird looks when they see me with the big boys, Anna, and my huge belly. I think people believe I'm crazy to be having another child. Honestly, it's been a little shocking and unsettling to Bryan and I to see how often people judge us for having another child. There is some mental line between 3 and 4 kids, apparently. It's on the bigger side of normal to have 3 kids, but 4 is just plain irresponsible. Or at least that's the message we often get. I keep thinking, "If they only knew that this is really our 5th! What if Samuel was alive and walking with us. What kind of looks would we get then?"
And then there is the frequent question: "Is this your 1st?" if I happen to be alone, or more often when I'm with just Anna and they've already asked me if I'm having a boy or girl, "Two girls, huh?" I have not yet found a satisfactory answer. In one day I tried three different responses, and none of them really worked. "Actually it's my 5th" is almost always followed by, "what are the ages of the other 4?" And then I make the stranger feel visibly uncomfortable when I say, "7 1/2, 5 1/2, our third son would be 3 1/2 but he is no longer living, and 21 months." Not 10 minutes later I tried, "Well, we had three boys first, then a girl, and now this one", but it lead to the same line of questioning. After trying more variations of this answer in one day and making every single inquirer squirm, I broke down and said, "Well, there are two older brothers as well", but it sat terribly with me, and I felt just wrong about leaving Samuel out for convenience. It's such a simple question, but there is no simple answer. When all the kids are with me, and it's obvious that I'm having at least my 4th child, I just smile when people say "Two boys and two girls. How perfect." I don't mention that there's another brother in the family, and I'm ok with it, but I do wonder how it feels to Caleb and Joel not to hear me acknowledge Samuel. And though 2 boys and 2 girls is pretty wonderful, it's not perfect. Someone is missing. Strangers can't possibly know that, of course, and I don't blame my friends and acquaintances when they say the same thing because I know that they mean well and are rejoicing in "Belle." But it does always tug at my heart because I miss that middle child of ours, and we are not complete without him.
Despite the hole Samuel's absence leaves, more than anything his life gives me cause to declare with joy and gladness "10,000 reasons for my heart to find! Bless the Lord, oh my soul. Ohhhhh, my soul. Worship His holy name. Sing like never before. Oh, my soul. I'll worship His holy name." Our God is good and great and worthy of every ounce of praise in my heart. And His overwhelming kindness in bestowing Samuel on us -- that alone generates 10, 000 reasons for my heart to praise His name.
(If you haven't heard the song, you can listen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jYLTn4fKYQ)
Lately Anna (who is now 21 months old) has learned parts of this song. She requests it every time I put her to bed. She tries to lay her little head on my chest, but my now seriously protruding belly has her sitting on my knees and her head barely reaching the top of my wriggling, kicking belly bump. Poor kid has no lap to sit on anymore and bedtime rockings are often accompanied by a chorus of ouches from Anna Pea who simply cannot get comfortable. Once she settles on a position (which never last more than 30 seconds due to that pesky baby sister of hers :) ), Anna lifts her head and asks, "Sun come up?" So I start singing the opening lines of the song, and Anna chimes in with me, asking, "Anna sing too?" She sings in this high-pitched squeal with absolutely no sense of the rhythm, but many of the words are correct. It melts my heart, and I grin my entire way through the song, struggling to hang on to the melody and tempo as Anna is so completely off. It's priceless: praising Jesus with my daughter. It is hands down one of my favorite things ever. And when we get to that line, I am flooded with gratitude for Anna's big brother, for Anna our little healer, for "Belle" who will soon add even more layers to that healing, and for how God will someday redeem the hard parts of Anna's life as He has redeemed the hard parts of mine. It's a washing joy that pours over me as Anna I together declare the Lord's goodness.
As I approach the end of this pregnancy (I'm 35 weeks, and we are still nowhere near ready for Belle's arrival), there have been numerous times when my memories of Samuel have reared up unexpectedly. In general people tend to give me weird looks when they see me with the big boys, Anna, and my huge belly. I think people believe I'm crazy to be having another child. Honestly, it's been a little shocking and unsettling to Bryan and I to see how often people judge us for having another child. There is some mental line between 3 and 4 kids, apparently. It's on the bigger side of normal to have 3 kids, but 4 is just plain irresponsible. Or at least that's the message we often get. I keep thinking, "If they only knew that this is really our 5th! What if Samuel was alive and walking with us. What kind of looks would we get then?"
And then there is the frequent question: "Is this your 1st?" if I happen to be alone, or more often when I'm with just Anna and they've already asked me if I'm having a boy or girl, "Two girls, huh?" I have not yet found a satisfactory answer. In one day I tried three different responses, and none of them really worked. "Actually it's my 5th" is almost always followed by, "what are the ages of the other 4?" And then I make the stranger feel visibly uncomfortable when I say, "7 1/2, 5 1/2, our third son would be 3 1/2 but he is no longer living, and 21 months." Not 10 minutes later I tried, "Well, we had three boys first, then a girl, and now this one", but it lead to the same line of questioning. After trying more variations of this answer in one day and making every single inquirer squirm, I broke down and said, "Well, there are two older brothers as well", but it sat terribly with me, and I felt just wrong about leaving Samuel out for convenience. It's such a simple question, but there is no simple answer. When all the kids are with me, and it's obvious that I'm having at least my 4th child, I just smile when people say "Two boys and two girls. How perfect." I don't mention that there's another brother in the family, and I'm ok with it, but I do wonder how it feels to Caleb and Joel not to hear me acknowledge Samuel. And though 2 boys and 2 girls is pretty wonderful, it's not perfect. Someone is missing. Strangers can't possibly know that, of course, and I don't blame my friends and acquaintances when they say the same thing because I know that they mean well and are rejoicing in "Belle." But it does always tug at my heart because I miss that middle child of ours, and we are not complete without him.
Despite the hole Samuel's absence leaves, more than anything his life gives me cause to declare with joy and gladness "10,000 reasons for my heart to find! Bless the Lord, oh my soul. Ohhhhh, my soul. Worship His holy name. Sing like never before. Oh, my soul. I'll worship His holy name." Our God is good and great and worthy of every ounce of praise in my heart. And His overwhelming kindness in bestowing Samuel on us -- that alone generates 10, 000 reasons for my heart to praise His name.
(If you haven't heard the song, you can listen here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jYLTn4fKYQ)
Thursday, March 28, 2013
LOVE YooooooUUUUUU!
This is from last week while we were in Kiawah, SC. Hours later the stomach bug hit our family, and 4 out of 5 of us went down. It wasn't pretty! But the 2 1/2 days before that, we had a lovely time relaxing on our favorite island. It was our last trip before "Belle" comes. Only 5 1/2 weeks until she's due...
Sunday, January 27, 2013
My Brother's Poem about Samuel
While we were in Disney at the beginning of the month, my brother gave me this poem he wrote about Samuel. Of course it made me cry. It's beautiful and moving and deeply touching to me. And Matthew is a seriously gifted writer. He gave me permission to share his poem, so without further ado, here it is:
Kathryn
9.24.12
She was given a perfect incarnation.
A divine commingling of mother and father,
holy silence.
And I have read that the Name of God,
was inhale and exhale both,
Yahweh,
the sound of breathing.
Not so much unutterable as un-unutterable.
And so came
a boy with no breath of his own,
all seven pounds prostrate
before the only true breath.
The membrane between him and the rest of us perfectly incomplete.
Maybe as an example to her,
to show her how to live in reckless vulnerability, every rigorously honest gasp.
Or maybe as living sacrament,
ripening its terrible gift
for her.
And so when he died,
when it seemed that our prayers had decayed into cricket noise,
a setup waiting for a punchline,
we mapped the silent corners.
Our ears only needing time
to adjust to the new light.
Here,
all along,
her cries had been harmony, pure and unmeant,
for a new song entirely,
echoing now under the yellowed grass, now the trees,
now the slow water.
And she would never have known,
if not for Samuel.
Kathryn
9.24.12
She was given a perfect incarnation.
A divine commingling of mother and father,
holy silence.
And I have read that the Name of God,
was inhale and exhale both,
Yahweh,
the sound of breathing.
Not so much unutterable as un-unutterable.
And so came
a boy with no breath of his own,
all seven pounds prostrate
before the only true breath.
The membrane between him and the rest of us perfectly incomplete.
Maybe as an example to her,
to show her how to live in reckless vulnerability, every rigorously honest gasp.
Or maybe as living sacrament,
ripening its terrible gift
for her.
And so when he died,
when it seemed that our prayers had decayed into cricket noise,
a setup waiting for a punchline,
we mapped the silent corners.
Our ears only needing time
to adjust to the new light.
Here,
all along,
her cries had been harmony, pure and unmeant,
for a new song entirely,
echoing now under the yellowed grass, now the trees,
now the slow water.
And she would never have known,
if not for Samuel.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Be Rich 2012
I've been meaning to post this for awhile but kept forgetting. Here is a video of what our church did in November and December. Bryan has the amazing privilege of heading up the Be Rich campaign; it's simply amazing to be a part of. (And I am over the moon proud of him, his hard work, and his leadership of the team of people who worked so hard to organize and execute this campaign.) You seriously won't regret watching this 7 minute video. Our Atlanta area congregations along with 20+ other partner churches in the US and 1 in South Africa raised over 5 million dollars, gave 32,000 hours of service, collected 87 tons of food for local food banks, and put together 20,000 Operation Christmas Child boxes. Every penny of the money went to non-profits who serve the poor and broken in our communities and across the globe. This video documents some of the giving of that money (makes me cry every time) and celebrates what God has done through the generosity of North Point ministries and partner churches. I seriously love this video.
http://ow.ly/g96N6
http://ow.ly/g96N6
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Magnificent, Beautiful, Perfect
On Friday, Bryan and I went to see Dr. Videlefsky, Samuel's pediatric cardiologist, so he could look at Belle's heart. (Have I mentioned that the boys nicknamed this baby Belle?) We were both really looking forward to going because we love Dr. V and hadn't seen him since Anna was born. His office staff is wonderful too, from his mom who works the front desk and always lights up when she sees us to his ultrasound tech who is kind and friendly. They all remember us, too, which amazes me.
Belle was extremely cooperative and let the tech (whose name I'm bothered I can't remember, so I will call her M since I think her name begins with one) get pictures of her heart with no trouble. She is a calm baby in my womb, so I'm not surprised she was easy to work with. Before calling in Dr. V, M let us just watch Belle move for several minutes. We watched her try to suck her thumb, open and close her hand finger by finger, yawn, stick our her tongue, and even move her eyes. I was touched that M would spend her time letting us just peek into Belle's secret world in wonder. It was so delightful to witness her movements and not have the ultrasound wand swirling around everywhere trying to get a look at some new organ or some new angle. Just to sit and watch the inner world of my womb. I marveled at it and still do. I've had countless ultrasounds in my 5 pregnancies, and this was my favorite one ever. It made me think so much of Psalm 139:
"For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be."
For a little while, we peered into that secret place and saw with God what He is creating. Amazing.
When Dr. Videlefsky came in, he was full of warmth and kindness, as always. We have so much respect and admiration for him, not to mention gratitude. My OB called him "a prince of man" once, and Bryan and I refer to that description often as it so perfectly suits him. He inquired after our church, Bryan's job, and Anna, and he told us that he thinks of Samuel often, which was very touching to me. He looked at Belle's heart for awhile and used the words "magnificent" and "beautiful" to describe it. Bryan says it was a worshipful experience for him to watch Dr. V marvel at our tiny baby's heart, still forming in my womb -- to witness Dr. V's awe for God's creation and his ability to see beauty in something 99% of the world can't begin to understand. It brought Bryan to the verge of tears. And then Dr. V told us that her heart is "perfect." He said there is no such thing as 100% certain, but this is as close as it can be, and if it was his child, he would believe it was 100% perfect. Welcome news to our ears! He proceeded to offer to make our appointment free if insurance wouldn't cover it (which it does)-- yet another example of his princeliness. Seriously, we are so thankful for this man.
And needless to say, we are grateful for our God who has given us another undeserved blessing and kindness in making Belle's heart healthy. No matter how He knit her together, we would fall on our knees and give praise, but we are overjoyed that He created a "perfect" heart. Thank you, Jesus, for this little life growing in me. Thank you for blessing us with her. We are humbled and honored and so very thankful. We love you. Amen.
Belle was extremely cooperative and let the tech (whose name I'm bothered I can't remember, so I will call her M since I think her name begins with one) get pictures of her heart with no trouble. She is a calm baby in my womb, so I'm not surprised she was easy to work with. Before calling in Dr. V, M let us just watch Belle move for several minutes. We watched her try to suck her thumb, open and close her hand finger by finger, yawn, stick our her tongue, and even move her eyes. I was touched that M would spend her time letting us just peek into Belle's secret world in wonder. It was so delightful to witness her movements and not have the ultrasound wand swirling around everywhere trying to get a look at some new organ or some new angle. Just to sit and watch the inner world of my womb. I marveled at it and still do. I've had countless ultrasounds in my 5 pregnancies, and this was my favorite one ever. It made me think so much of Psalm 139:
"For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place,
when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be."
For a little while, we peered into that secret place and saw with God what He is creating. Amazing.
When Dr. Videlefsky came in, he was full of warmth and kindness, as always. We have so much respect and admiration for him, not to mention gratitude. My OB called him "a prince of man" once, and Bryan and I refer to that description often as it so perfectly suits him. He inquired after our church, Bryan's job, and Anna, and he told us that he thinks of Samuel often, which was very touching to me. He looked at Belle's heart for awhile and used the words "magnificent" and "beautiful" to describe it. Bryan says it was a worshipful experience for him to watch Dr. V marvel at our tiny baby's heart, still forming in my womb -- to witness Dr. V's awe for God's creation and his ability to see beauty in something 99% of the world can't begin to understand. It brought Bryan to the verge of tears. And then Dr. V told us that her heart is "perfect." He said there is no such thing as 100% certain, but this is as close as it can be, and if it was his child, he would believe it was 100% perfect. Welcome news to our ears! He proceeded to offer to make our appointment free if insurance wouldn't cover it (which it does)-- yet another example of his princeliness. Seriously, we are so thankful for this man.
And needless to say, we are grateful for our God who has given us another undeserved blessing and kindness in making Belle's heart healthy. No matter how He knit her together, we would fall on our knees and give praise, but we are overjoyed that He created a "perfect" heart. Thank you, Jesus, for this little life growing in me. Thank you for blessing us with her. We are humbled and honored and so very thankful. We love you. Amen.
Monday, December 31, 2012
It's a...
We had an ultrasound several weeks ago, and we decided ahead of time that we wouldn't find out the gender at the appointment; we'd have them write it down for us, and we'd go on a date that night and open the envelope at dinner.
Before arriving at the appointment, I was pretty sure baby was a boy. We all thought so from the beginning. Though we warned the ultrasound tech that we didn't want to see the gender or be told, I have had enough ultrasounds to be pretty well aware of what I'm seeing. Early in the appointment, the tech swiped by the gender area, and I was fairly sure I saw male parts. We looked away when she revisited the area to confirm the gender, and then she wrote it down for us on a card we brought. A short while later the doctor came in and looked at baby to see if he could tell anything about the heart (which he really couldn't because it was too early to see much), and he definitely rolled by the same area. This time I was nearly positive I saw a penis. When the nurse asked me what we're having while drawing blood a little while later, I told her, "We don't officially know yet, but I'm positive it's a boy." When we left I told Bryan that I was pretty sure I knew the gender based on the ultrasound, but that I wasn't going to tell him.
All day I absorbed the surety that our next baby is a boy. I knew ahead of time that I would be a little sad about whichever gender we are having. I liked living with the possibility of either, and I knew I'd be sad to close the chapter on the one we won't be welcoming into the family in May. Though I never really thought this baby was a girl, I was a little blue all day about the girl we wouldn't be meeting come spring. I was also delighted to think of holding a cuddling another baby boy of ours, especially after not getting to do that with Samuel.
That night we went on a date to a local restaurant called Firefly, thanks to the wonderful girls I'm mentoring. We spent some time talking about how we'd tell the boys the next day and enjoying the little bit of time we had left not officially knowing the gender of our 5th baby. When we finally decided to open the envelope, Bryan asked me, "So, what is it?" I told him, "It's a boy. I'm sure." We proceeded to open the envelope together, me completely sure I would read the words "It's a boy!" inside. I was expecting the same anti-climax I experienced when Joel was born, and the doctor said, "It's a boy!" Though we were "surprised" with Joel, I knew he was a boy from the moment I found out I was pregnant, and I remember thinking once he arrived, "I already knew that. That was so not surprising." So, I was utterly and completely shocked and dumbfounded when the card read, "Congrats! It's a girl!" I let out a huge gasp in the middle of the restaurant, welled up immediately, started shaking, and said over and over again, "No! No way! It can't be!" I was beyond shocked. It took me a good five minutes to pull myself together to even form a coherent sentence. I think Bryan thoroughly enjoyed my reaction and utter surprise. Once I finally calmed down, I told Bryan, 'That was fun!" Truly being surprised is a rare occurrence, and it was delightfully fun to be so blown away by happy news.
All night we shook our heads at each other and said, "Another girl!" I woke up in the night several times, still shocked and trying to wrap my mind around two daughters. I have always thought of us as having boys, and Anna is our wonderful, surprising anomaly. But now our whole family dynamic will be different. In our home, we will be even-Stephen with boys and girls. Though we're still a boy heavy family because of our dear Samuel, to the world we will look like a family with two boys and two girls. It's still so weird to me!
I reserved 10% disbelief for our 20 weeks ultrasound and was prepared for the possibility of them saying they were wrong, and baby is a boy afterall. But at 20 weeks, our little one was still a girl. So disbelief, be gone! Our boys have officially donned her "Belle." We're very excited about another daughter and all spend time imagining what it will be like to have two big boys and two little girls in the house. No doubt it will be an adventure! I wonder how long it will be before the girls rope the big brothers into playing tea party and house. Anna already has Caleb walking with her while she pushes her new stroller around the house with her "twins," Baby and Toad (Toad is from Super Mario Brothers). What blessed little girls Beauty and Belle are to have Caleb and Joel as big brothers! They couldn't possibly have better ones.
(Incidentally, Belle's heart looked great at the 20 week ultrasound. We will see Dr. Videlefsky (Samuel's ped. cardiologist) in a couple of weeks for his expert opinion, but for now, it looks hopeful, praise the Lord.)
Before arriving at the appointment, I was pretty sure baby was a boy. We all thought so from the beginning. Though we warned the ultrasound tech that we didn't want to see the gender or be told, I have had enough ultrasounds to be pretty well aware of what I'm seeing. Early in the appointment, the tech swiped by the gender area, and I was fairly sure I saw male parts. We looked away when she revisited the area to confirm the gender, and then she wrote it down for us on a card we brought. A short while later the doctor came in and looked at baby to see if he could tell anything about the heart (which he really couldn't because it was too early to see much), and he definitely rolled by the same area. This time I was nearly positive I saw a penis. When the nurse asked me what we're having while drawing blood a little while later, I told her, "We don't officially know yet, but I'm positive it's a boy." When we left I told Bryan that I was pretty sure I knew the gender based on the ultrasound, but that I wasn't going to tell him.
All day I absorbed the surety that our next baby is a boy. I knew ahead of time that I would be a little sad about whichever gender we are having. I liked living with the possibility of either, and I knew I'd be sad to close the chapter on the one we won't be welcoming into the family in May. Though I never really thought this baby was a girl, I was a little blue all day about the girl we wouldn't be meeting come spring. I was also delighted to think of holding a cuddling another baby boy of ours, especially after not getting to do that with Samuel.
That night we went on a date to a local restaurant called Firefly, thanks to the wonderful girls I'm mentoring. We spent some time talking about how we'd tell the boys the next day and enjoying the little bit of time we had left not officially knowing the gender of our 5th baby. When we finally decided to open the envelope, Bryan asked me, "So, what is it?" I told him, "It's a boy. I'm sure." We proceeded to open the envelope together, me completely sure I would read the words "It's a boy!" inside. I was expecting the same anti-climax I experienced when Joel was born, and the doctor said, "It's a boy!" Though we were "surprised" with Joel, I knew he was a boy from the moment I found out I was pregnant, and I remember thinking once he arrived, "I already knew that. That was so not surprising." So, I was utterly and completely shocked and dumbfounded when the card read, "Congrats! It's a girl!" I let out a huge gasp in the middle of the restaurant, welled up immediately, started shaking, and said over and over again, "No! No way! It can't be!" I was beyond shocked. It took me a good five minutes to pull myself together to even form a coherent sentence. I think Bryan thoroughly enjoyed my reaction and utter surprise. Once I finally calmed down, I told Bryan, 'That was fun!" Truly being surprised is a rare occurrence, and it was delightfully fun to be so blown away by happy news.
 |
| Before opening the envelope |
 |
| How we told the boys... |
 |
| They were excited. Caleb was hoping for a girl, and Joel was hoping for a boy, but both were happy with the news. They hated waiting until the next evening to find out, though. |
(Incidentally, Belle's heart looked great at the 20 week ultrasound. We will see Dr. Videlefsky (Samuel's ped. cardiologist) in a couple of weeks for his expert opinion, but for now, it looks hopeful, praise the Lord.)
Thursday, October 25, 2012
#5
About five days before Samuel's homegoing anniversary, we found out that we're pregnant again. It was sweet timing and helped ease the sting of August 31. We're very excited about another Apinis baby.
When we sat down to tell the boys, we said we had some exciting news and asked them to guess. Joel immediately said, "Mommy's pregnant!" but then after Caleb guessed we were getting a basketball hoop, Joel aligned with his big brother. When we said, "You're right" they both replied with, "We're getting a basketball hoop?!" Neither of them could wrap their minds around another baby -- although they've both always said they wanted more little brothers and sisters. Joel must have asked 4 or 5 times, "Are you serious? For real?" It was pretty cute.
Though being pregnant comes with no guarantees and slews of questions, I have been remarkably peaceful. I don't spend time worrying about what might be. I have felt calm from the very beginning -- and not in a "I just know nothing will go wrong" kind of way but once again in the peace that God is enough and whatever He has for us, He will kindly grant us the grace to face. It's the true peace He taught me in my grief over Samuel. And it's a peace I can rest in.
Last week as I was lacing up my tennis shoes and talking to Anna while she played with Bryan's old cell phone on the floor in front of me, I was struck with how peaceful I am about Samuel's story. How I don't spend time wishing God had written it differently. My heart is quiet that Samuel is not alive and running through our house and creating three year old chaos. Though I wouldn't have chosen it if He asked me, I love the way God has written our story. I see the beauty in it, the healing, the redemption, the growth that comes from sorrow and pain and surrender. I see how Bryan and I are more us -- more the people God made us to be -- as a result of loving and losing Samuel. And since I know Samuel has gained everything good in going to Heaven, I can't possibly wish more or better for him. This story, the one God is writing, is a beautiful story. And I love it. I am at peace with it. And I am at peace -- as much as I can be in the before -- with what lies ahead. Because no matter what, my God is still good and faithful and worthy of my trust and praise.
There is something so.... refreshing about looking ahead and having pervading peace in my soul. In resting in the God who is good, not the God who does what I want. And this new life growing in me, I pray he or she (we all think it's a boy) will know the Lord intimately and deeply and peacefully, as the rest of us strive to do.
When we sat down to tell the boys, we said we had some exciting news and asked them to guess. Joel immediately said, "Mommy's pregnant!" but then after Caleb guessed we were getting a basketball hoop, Joel aligned with his big brother. When we said, "You're right" they both replied with, "We're getting a basketball hoop?!" Neither of them could wrap their minds around another baby -- although they've both always said they wanted more little brothers and sisters. Joel must have asked 4 or 5 times, "Are you serious? For real?" It was pretty cute.
Though being pregnant comes with no guarantees and slews of questions, I have been remarkably peaceful. I don't spend time worrying about what might be. I have felt calm from the very beginning -- and not in a "I just know nothing will go wrong" kind of way but once again in the peace that God is enough and whatever He has for us, He will kindly grant us the grace to face. It's the true peace He taught me in my grief over Samuel. And it's a peace I can rest in.
Last week as I was lacing up my tennis shoes and talking to Anna while she played with Bryan's old cell phone on the floor in front of me, I was struck with how peaceful I am about Samuel's story. How I don't spend time wishing God had written it differently. My heart is quiet that Samuel is not alive and running through our house and creating three year old chaos. Though I wouldn't have chosen it if He asked me, I love the way God has written our story. I see the beauty in it, the healing, the redemption, the growth that comes from sorrow and pain and surrender. I see how Bryan and I are more us -- more the people God made us to be -- as a result of loving and losing Samuel. And since I know Samuel has gained everything good in going to Heaven, I can't possibly wish more or better for him. This story, the one God is writing, is a beautiful story. And I love it. I am at peace with it. And I am at peace -- as much as I can be in the before -- with what lies ahead. Because no matter what, my God is still good and faithful and worthy of my trust and praise.
There is something so.... refreshing about looking ahead and having pervading peace in my soul. In resting in the God who is good, not the God who does what I want. And this new life growing in me, I pray he or she (we all think it's a boy) will know the Lord intimately and deeply and peacefully, as the rest of us strive to do.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Anna Loves Her Daddy
This is from about a month ago. Anna is utterly smitten with her daddy. The feeling is mutual. :)
Monday, October 15, 2012
Catch Up Pictures
After over a month of not posting, I think some pictures are in order.
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| Our field trip to Hillcrest Apple Orchards |
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| At the pig races. (The boys in the background are chanting for a pig named Elvis.) |
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| Pigtails! |
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| The boys and I flew to Arizona to visit their great grandparents. We had a lovely visit! |
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| With Great Grandma and Great Grandpa |
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| With my grandparents on their 67th wedding anniversary |
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| Two cuties |
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| I love this. Are they not the cutest? |
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| Three of my favorite people in the world |
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| Joel LOVES playing soccer. Here he is still giggling from a clever move he made where he kept kicking the ball despite ending up on his bottom. He is too fun to watch. |
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Anna Showing Off Some Skills
If you can ignore the annoying mom goading her daughter into showing off, this is a pretty fun video of Anna. She uses several of her words and is doing her fake laugh that she uses when everyone else is laughing and she thinks she should be too. We all think it's hilarious and adorable, but we are, of course, terribly biased.
Monday, September 3, 2012
3rd Anniversary of Samuel's Homegoing
Friday was the 3rd anniversary of Samuel's death, his homegoing to Heaven. I slept very poorly the night before, waking up every couple of hours and thinking back to those same hours in 2009. At 2:30am, I remembered how Bryan and I clung to each other on the rubber single mattress in the sleep pod, leaving one single bed untouched because we couldn't bear to be apart when we knew our baby was dying. At 5:30am I remembered waking up to our alarm with the same horrible sinking feeling in our stomachs that had greeted us every morning for the last 30 days -- the realization that our son was sick, and in the last 8 days, the knowledge that his life was quickly coming to a close. At 5:45am I thought about the long walk down the hall to the CICU and walking in to Samuel's pod to see his numbers start their tick south before Bryan's brother and sister had even left the room from the night shift. I remembered our talk with our wonderful night nurse, Kim, a doctor, and another medical professional when they told us this was it; they couldn't guarantee that Samuel would still be alive once the floor reopened after shift change. At 6:00, I remembered them placing Samuel in my arms --wires, machines, and medical personnel galore.
Over the next few hours, amidst smatterings of sleep, getting the kids up, and starting breakfast, I remembered the time we spent ushering Samuel into Jesus' arms -- the songs we sang, prayers we prayed, tears we wept, loving words we cooed. I remember so much of that day from 5:30am-2:30pm that I think I could piece it together almost in its entirety. After 2:30, I lose the thread of it and only have bits and pieces, but from the moment we woke until the moment we got home from the hospital, it is crystal clear. Bryan's time holding Samuel, getting a second turn myself, the doctors telling us we could turn off the oscillator because Samuel was close enough to death, me asking to leave it on until he had died on his own, the doctor later declaring him dead, the silence that echoed louder than I could have imagined once the oscillator was quieted for the first time in 7 days, Bryan holding Samuel's body for a long while, leaving the CICU for the last time a couple of hours later, and so many other details as well.
Because Samuel died around 9:15 in the morning, the anniversary was heaviest during those hours leading up to his death. Once it was mid-morning, I felt significantly less burdened than when I woke. I still had a cloud over me, knowing we were going to the grave, but it wasn't as heavy. We headed to the grave after lunch and stopped at Michael's for our traditional purchasing of new fake flowers to replace the old ones. At the grave, we put in the flowers, sang songs, and talked some about Samuel.
Bryan and I both noticed that the anniversary grows less intense each year, and I am thankful for that. I think each year we see evidence of God's healing in our lives, and there is so much for which to praise Him. Most of all, I praise Him for giving us Samuel, for granting us the month of August with him, and for safely seeing my baby Home to the place where he is whole, healed, and lacks for absolutely nothing. August 31st was the greatest day Samuel ever could have known, and for that, there is much to celebrate. Now that it's September, I breathe a sigh of relief to have another set of anniversaries behind us. And once again I look at this family God has given me on earth, and I can't help but burst with gratitude and love. We are so full -- full-hearted and overflowing with blessings. God didn't have to paint it that way, and I will never stop thanking Him that He has.
Over the next few hours, amidst smatterings of sleep, getting the kids up, and starting breakfast, I remembered the time we spent ushering Samuel into Jesus' arms -- the songs we sang, prayers we prayed, tears we wept, loving words we cooed. I remember so much of that day from 5:30am-2:30pm that I think I could piece it together almost in its entirety. After 2:30, I lose the thread of it and only have bits and pieces, but from the moment we woke until the moment we got home from the hospital, it is crystal clear. Bryan's time holding Samuel, getting a second turn myself, the doctors telling us we could turn off the oscillator because Samuel was close enough to death, me asking to leave it on until he had died on his own, the doctor later declaring him dead, the silence that echoed louder than I could have imagined once the oscillator was quieted for the first time in 7 days, Bryan holding Samuel's body for a long while, leaving the CICU for the last time a couple of hours later, and so many other details as well.
Because Samuel died around 9:15 in the morning, the anniversary was heaviest during those hours leading up to his death. Once it was mid-morning, I felt significantly less burdened than when I woke. I still had a cloud over me, knowing we were going to the grave, but it wasn't as heavy. We headed to the grave after lunch and stopped at Michael's for our traditional purchasing of new fake flowers to replace the old ones. At the grave, we put in the flowers, sang songs, and talked some about Samuel.
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| Caleb wanted a picture with just him by the grave. |
Bryan and I both noticed that the anniversary grows less intense each year, and I am thankful for that. I think each year we see evidence of God's healing in our lives, and there is so much for which to praise Him. Most of all, I praise Him for giving us Samuel, for granting us the month of August with him, and for safely seeing my baby Home to the place where he is whole, healed, and lacks for absolutely nothing. August 31st was the greatest day Samuel ever could have known, and for that, there is much to celebrate. Now that it's September, I breathe a sigh of relief to have another set of anniversaries behind us. And once again I look at this family God has given me on earth, and I can't help but burst with gratitude and love. We are so full -- full-hearted and overflowing with blessings. God didn't have to paint it that way, and I will never stop thanking Him that He has.
Friday, August 17, 2012
School Starts
Last week my boys started school. Caleb waltzed into 2nd grade no problem whatsoever, but Joel was pretty terrified. Though he was all grins and giggles at our celebratory Dutch Monkey Donuts breakfast, he clammed up completely the second we pulled into the school parking lot. I don't think he said a single word when we took him to his class and gave him goodbye hugs. He was shaking in his shoes. I was already emotional about taking him to kindergarten, but when I saw his fear, my heart just melted. I had to exit the room quickly, so he wouldn't see my tears, but just outside his door, I started bawling. Bryan and I walked into the school auditorium where I cried like a baby on his shoulder. I struggled to pull myself together, and all day the tears would rise up and spill over. I was that crazy crying mom on the first day of school.
When I picked Joel up, he was all smiles and pretended he didn't want to talk about his day, but really he was itching to tell me about it. Since then getting my boys to tell me about their days is like pulling teeth, but that day he clearly wanted to talk about it. He had a great day and so did Caleb. And now Joel does beautifully at dropoff; he didn't even think to give me a hug when I dropped him off on his second day. He just bounded in right next to Caleb. It is so sweet to see them walking in together. They sit by each other at lunch each day, which I find irresistibly adorable.
As I was leaving school on the first day, I kept thinking about the well of grief in me, just how sad I felt about leaving my second born at his first day of school. When Samuel was alive, I remember swearing off tears about routine shots and the stuff our healthy kids go through. I was determined to rejoice in them -- in the fact that my child was healthy enough to get the shot or meet the milestone. I never thought I'd be dry-eyed about my kids starting kindergarten, but I also didn't expect such sorrow. I do rejoice in their health, in how they are well enough to attend school, in how I get to homeschool them half of the week, in how they are growing into these amazing kids of whom I'm so proud; there is much in which to rejoice. And I do. But I think my loss of Samuel informs how I feel about these milestones of childhood. Knowing what it is to miss every single milestone, I cling to the ones my healthy children face. I feel the steady rhythm of time, ticking away beneath me, the days already gone and the present ever-changing, my children always growing. Time is fleeting by nature; there is not a thing I can do to slow it down. Samuel's death in many ways intensifies my desire to savor these early years with my children. I won't get them back. Knowing I won't ever take Samuel to his first day of kindergarten, I find myself grasping on to the now and wanting to make the most of it. Though I've held true to my refusal to lament the routine shots and heel pricks and common colds, I do grieve when my kids keep growing up, though of course it's the very thing I want for them. It's a paradox, I suppose: wanting them to be well enough to grow up and yet resenting that they continue to grow.
Now, a week in to the school year, it's been pretty easy to send the boys to school, and they are happy to go. I find that the homeschool days make the school days easier. And I have loved my days with just Anna Pea. We go to the grocery store or walk the greenway, and I get some much appreciated time to myself during her morning nap. As an introvert, it fuels me. I think it's going to be a great school year, and there is something simply beautiful about the new bond of going to school together that my boys share. I love all the ties that bind those boys together.
When I picked Joel up, he was all smiles and pretended he didn't want to talk about his day, but really he was itching to tell me about it. Since then getting my boys to tell me about their days is like pulling teeth, but that day he clearly wanted to talk about it. He had a great day and so did Caleb. And now Joel does beautifully at dropoff; he didn't even think to give me a hug when I dropped him off on his second day. He just bounded in right next to Caleb. It is so sweet to see them walking in together. They sit by each other at lunch each day, which I find irresistibly adorable.
As I was leaving school on the first day, I kept thinking about the well of grief in me, just how sad I felt about leaving my second born at his first day of school. When Samuel was alive, I remember swearing off tears about routine shots and the stuff our healthy kids go through. I was determined to rejoice in them -- in the fact that my child was healthy enough to get the shot or meet the milestone. I never thought I'd be dry-eyed about my kids starting kindergarten, but I also didn't expect such sorrow. I do rejoice in their health, in how they are well enough to attend school, in how I get to homeschool them half of the week, in how they are growing into these amazing kids of whom I'm so proud; there is much in which to rejoice. And I do. But I think my loss of Samuel informs how I feel about these milestones of childhood. Knowing what it is to miss every single milestone, I cling to the ones my healthy children face. I feel the steady rhythm of time, ticking away beneath me, the days already gone and the present ever-changing, my children always growing. Time is fleeting by nature; there is not a thing I can do to slow it down. Samuel's death in many ways intensifies my desire to savor these early years with my children. I won't get them back. Knowing I won't ever take Samuel to his first day of kindergarten, I find myself grasping on to the now and wanting to make the most of it. Though I've held true to my refusal to lament the routine shots and heel pricks and common colds, I do grieve when my kids keep growing up, though of course it's the very thing I want for them. It's a paradox, I suppose: wanting them to be well enough to grow up and yet resenting that they continue to grow.
Now, a week in to the school year, it's been pretty easy to send the boys to school, and they are happy to go. I find that the homeschool days make the school days easier. And I have loved my days with just Anna Pea. We go to the grocery store or walk the greenway, and I get some much appreciated time to myself during her morning nap. As an introvert, it fuels me. I think it's going to be a great school year, and there is something simply beautiful about the new bond of going to school together that my boys share. I love all the ties that bind those boys together.
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| My kindergartener |
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| My 2nd grader |
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| Huge donuts to celebrate the start of the school year |
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| Watching donut-making magic |
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| My fabulous school boys at their favorite breakfast spot |
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Celebrating Samuel's 3rd BIrthday
As we approached the month of August, I realized I hadn't really prepared mentally and emotionally for another round of anniversaries. I wondered if Samuel's birthday would be harder as a result. Ordinarily, I do a lot of my emotional work ahead of time, so when I actually get to the day/place/encounter it's usually goes decently. But this year, I felt like I was going in unprepared.
A few days before Samuel's birthday I was watching a show called Bunheads about a ballet studio and the people who dance there. In the episode, someone's son had unexpectedly died, and the high school dancers wanted desperately to "do something" for the mom, so they choreographed a dance just for her. It's a beautiful scene, and it left me weeping. My emotions totally took me by surprise. It stirred up in me the sorrow of the mom -- such desperate grief and overwhelming loss, and it also reminded me of the many people who "just did something" for us -- the myriad of ways in which people served and loved us. I was so moved by the show, that I actually cried myself to sleep. Poor Bryan wondered what in the world had happened to me when I climbed into bed sobbing.
The next day Caleb and my mom had a creative date on skype to work on their 5 book series they're writing together. It's Caleb's brainchild, and my mom is compiling his ideas in a notebook so they can hopefully turn it into a bound work someday. It's an impressive plan about robots who secretly live in our house and protect us. It takes place during WWII (hence our need for protection), and each member of our family has a robot. Caleb was parked at the kitchen table chatting away with my mom while I was making dinner. When Caleb started telling Mom that Samuel has a robot too, and that Samuel's robot has a secret weapon called "Epic Escape," I found myself crying into the pot of noodles on the stove. I love that Samuel is still part of our family for Caleb.
After my two showers of tears, I thought perhaps I was more ready for August 1st than I'd previously expected. I thought maybe it would be a fairly do-able day afterall. So I was caught off-guard when it was such a teary day. I cried and cried and cried. It was good crying -- the healing kind, but I was not expecting the day to be so wet. It was a sweet day in lots of ways, but it was harder than I had expected for sure.
We made a birthday cake for Samuel, and Bryan and the boys designed and decorated it. They decided to put a sun and clouds on the cake and an owl flying in front of the sun like in Bryan's owl painting. Joel wanted there to be three sunbeams since Samuel would have been three. It was a fun time working on the cake, and the boys were excited to eat it. My mom had sent us money to go out for Samuel's birthday, and she said the boys should pick a restaurant they think Samuel would have liked; they picked Red Robin. They loved eating there and celebrating our birthday boy in that way. Once we got home, we wrote messages to Samuel on balloons and released them in the backyard. All in all, it was a precious time remembering and celebrating the life of Samuel. I am glad we have traditions as a family of celebrating our boy and that Caleb and Joel feel like it's a fun day. It's what we've hoped for.
Earlier in the afternoon, Caleb made a voice recording on his voice recorder (which my mom gave him to record his ideas for their books) for Samuel. He took it around and had each family member wish Samuel a happy birthday. He even introduced Anna to Samuel. It was so precious and sweet and such a treasured glimpse into Caleb's heart and mind. Unfortunately, he accidentally erased all the recordings in that folder, and the poor kid was beside himself with disappointment. We're both sad to lose the record of those thoughts, ideas, and love.
On Friday we headed down to Egleston Children's Hospital with lots of cookies for the doctors and nurses of the CICU. Ahead of time, I was willing to forego our Egleston tradition, but I'm so glad we went. Bryan and I both found ourselves taking deep breaths and sighs in the elevator from the parking garage to the lobby of the hospital. It's always hard to go back, and we call it a full-sensory experience. All of our senses spark memories of our month there with Samuel. From the smells of the handsoap to the sound of the double doors releasing to the brightly painted walls and yellow linoleum floors to the feel of the textured walls in the elevator, there is something around every corner to churn up some memory. My heart always feels clenched when I walk in and especially when I walk down the hall to the CICU. But once I'm there and smiling at the receptionist and greeting one of Samuel's doctors, I'm so glad to be back. It's good to remember, even if some of the remembering is hard. We got to see one of the doctors who was very kind to us during Samuel's life and who seemed genuinely happy to see us, and best of all, we got to see Richard, our very favorite nurse and the one I prayed would be with us when Samuel actually died. (God answered that prayer.) It was so good to give him a hug and watch him shower our boys with kindness once again. We enjoyed our short time in the CICU, and on the ride back home, we both expressed how glad we are that we return every year.
It was a hard few days but also a good few days. It's good for my heart and soul to remember my boy in a very intentional way -- to go back to the place where we knew him, to dedicate a day to celebrating his life. Though it's oftentimes weepy, that's good, too. I miss Samuel more acutely in August. It's my least favorite month of the year, and I may always feel that way, but it's also healing to have hard days. And I love how God shows me the mighty healing work He's done in my heart in the last three years. Happy Birthday, sweet boy of mine!
A few days before Samuel's birthday I was watching a show called Bunheads about a ballet studio and the people who dance there. In the episode, someone's son had unexpectedly died, and the high school dancers wanted desperately to "do something" for the mom, so they choreographed a dance just for her. It's a beautiful scene, and it left me weeping. My emotions totally took me by surprise. It stirred up in me the sorrow of the mom -- such desperate grief and overwhelming loss, and it also reminded me of the many people who "just did something" for us -- the myriad of ways in which people served and loved us. I was so moved by the show, that I actually cried myself to sleep. Poor Bryan wondered what in the world had happened to me when I climbed into bed sobbing.
The next day Caleb and my mom had a creative date on skype to work on their 5 book series they're writing together. It's Caleb's brainchild, and my mom is compiling his ideas in a notebook so they can hopefully turn it into a bound work someday. It's an impressive plan about robots who secretly live in our house and protect us. It takes place during WWII (hence our need for protection), and each member of our family has a robot. Caleb was parked at the kitchen table chatting away with my mom while I was making dinner. When Caleb started telling Mom that Samuel has a robot too, and that Samuel's robot has a secret weapon called "Epic Escape," I found myself crying into the pot of noodles on the stove. I love that Samuel is still part of our family for Caleb.
After my two showers of tears, I thought perhaps I was more ready for August 1st than I'd previously expected. I thought maybe it would be a fairly do-able day afterall. So I was caught off-guard when it was such a teary day. I cried and cried and cried. It was good crying -- the healing kind, but I was not expecting the day to be so wet. It was a sweet day in lots of ways, but it was harder than I had expected for sure.
We made a birthday cake for Samuel, and Bryan and the boys designed and decorated it. They decided to put a sun and clouds on the cake and an owl flying in front of the sun like in Bryan's owl painting. Joel wanted there to be three sunbeams since Samuel would have been three. It was a fun time working on the cake, and the boys were excited to eat it. My mom had sent us money to go out for Samuel's birthday, and she said the boys should pick a restaurant they think Samuel would have liked; they picked Red Robin. They loved eating there and celebrating our birthday boy in that way. Once we got home, we wrote messages to Samuel on balloons and released them in the backyard. All in all, it was a precious time remembering and celebrating the life of Samuel. I am glad we have traditions as a family of celebrating our boy and that Caleb and Joel feel like it's a fun day. It's what we've hoped for.
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| I love this picture of 3 of my boys. |
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| At Red Robin |
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| Watching the balloons fly away |
On Friday we headed down to Egleston Children's Hospital with lots of cookies for the doctors and nurses of the CICU. Ahead of time, I was willing to forego our Egleston tradition, but I'm so glad we went. Bryan and I both found ourselves taking deep breaths and sighs in the elevator from the parking garage to the lobby of the hospital. It's always hard to go back, and we call it a full-sensory experience. All of our senses spark memories of our month there with Samuel. From the smells of the handsoap to the sound of the double doors releasing to the brightly painted walls and yellow linoleum floors to the feel of the textured walls in the elevator, there is something around every corner to churn up some memory. My heart always feels clenched when I walk in and especially when I walk down the hall to the CICU. But once I'm there and smiling at the receptionist and greeting one of Samuel's doctors, I'm so glad to be back. It's good to remember, even if some of the remembering is hard. We got to see one of the doctors who was very kind to us during Samuel's life and who seemed genuinely happy to see us, and best of all, we got to see Richard, our very favorite nurse and the one I prayed would be with us when Samuel actually died. (God answered that prayer.) It was so good to give him a hug and watch him shower our boys with kindness once again. We enjoyed our short time in the CICU, and on the ride back home, we both expressed how glad we are that we return every year.
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| Cookies galore |
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| Anna "helping" me in the kitchen with the cookies |
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| With Dr. Sri and Nurse Richard |
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