Roller Coaster

He wasn't lying. The doctor that first gave me Sophia's diagnosis, Dr. Fernando Acosta (whom I had only the one meeting with, but the name is branded in my brain), he said it would be a long hard road. He said it would be a roller coaster, and to try not to go too high with the highs and not to go too low with the lows. I reread two posts back, Christmas time 2010, and I was high up there. I just knew the ketogenic diet would be it. Look how it's working! And then everything got all fucked up.

We've been on Vigabatrin for about a week. The first few days had not a seizure in sight. Yesterday there were 4 clusters and today at least 3. I'll admit I got a little excited. I was filled with fear and trepidation, but I did get excited. And now the roller coaster descends. Last year I would have said, "We have two more dosage increases, so hopefully what we were seeing at the beginning of the week was just a preview!" And although I might actually say the same thing this year, in my head and heart I have lost almost all of my hope. I still have the desperate hope, but all the optimistic hope is all used up. I know my take away is to ALSO not go so low with the lows. Unfortunately, that isn't my personality type. I am prone to depression, you know. Still, that isn't a reason not to try.

And I am trying. Trying to be grateful, to be positive, to have hope, to pray. I am trying to find the joy in my life, and I know that it is there. There really is a lot to be had, and I really am getting better at having it. Most of my day isn't this doom and gloom. Most of my day is smiles, and discipline, and hugs, and video games, and chores, and good talks, and good food. But I do think about all that has been stolen from all of us, I just get so... overwhelmed and angry and sad and desperate for it to be over. For everything that was stolen from her to come rushing back into her life. Her tiny precious life. And I play out the end scenario. If the seizures are never controlled, her little body will not stand for it. I will lose my girl if they don't stop or are significantly curbed. And now it looks like nothing will be able to do that except God, and He hasn't yet.

Everything seems so big and huge and awful, and then suddenly it zooms out, and Sophia's defect is indiscernible among the millions and billions of people that were, are, and will be and all of their problems, great and small. And I just feel better. That in the great big huge picture, it just does not matter. All that matters is that she was here, that she got to be more than dust for a moment in time, and I got to be here for that. And I know my mother feels the same about me, and so on, and so on. And to not enjoy her to the fullest extent that I am able seems like a crime. And it helps me to avoid getting onto the roller coaster at all.

Time to Time

I guess that just happens from time to time. I look up and realize I haven't posted anything on here for a year.

I guess I just do not know what to say.

My marriage is going better. A lot better.

I got a job after two years of being a stay at home mom. A really good job.

Matthew is doing so well in preschool. He wrote his name on all of his valentines by himself and ordered broccoli at the restaurant for dinner. So proud.

The epilepsy is going stronger than ever. My child has dozens of seizures a day and hundreds of seizures a week. I feel so so so very defeated. I had so much hope. It is just gone. We start a new drug soon (whenever it comes in the mail), and I am so certain it will not work, I am already planning a retrial of the ketogenic diet. I don't really think that will work either. No matter what we have done, the seizures have just gone up. Up. Up. My sweet girl smiles, crawls, sometimes laughs, and stands. She does not walk. She does not learn. She does not talk. She does not chew. She does not care. She tries so hard, but her piece of shit brain, that I am sure I fucked up, holds her back.

You can see that there is so much to be thankful for. I am just so astonished that her disease is actually worse. I am slayed. My heart was shattered into a million pieces, and I am just now finding the energy to put it all back together again. It is so hard too. I just got this job at this amazing company. I was picked to be in a group of 47 new employees out of 2700 applicants. That is awesome. It is just so hard. I've been all about epilepsy, I don't even know what to do. I don't know how to introduce myself to all these people without talking about it, without telling them how brokenhearted I am. How strange is that? The people who know me, they know I'm just trying to do the best I can with a broken heart. These strangers though, I just don't want them to ask, "What is the deal with this Lady? Something is off." I just want them to know what is it, why I am so off. I just need to let it go. I am just sad, that is a part of my personality right now. I've even lost muscle tone in my face from not smiling. My eyes physically droop more than they used to. Isn't that wild? And sad?

You know, pity doesn't bother me. It is the misunderstanding that bothers me. I'm not the bubbly, confident, put you at ease girl I used to be. I want you to know I used to be that way. But right now, she is taking a time out, I guess. Don't take this version of me too personally. It gets better, I promise.

I'm not even making sense. I told you I didn't know what to say.

Just Has to Happen

Sophie is so unbelievably close to being done with this seizure stuff. This week she has had a fraction of the seizures she was having per week. She has blossomed in front of my eyes. On Christmas, she laughed for the first time in MONTHS. She just rolls all around. Rolls and sits, and then rolls somewhere else and sits. She is so interested. In life. In Matthew. In her toys. She has started fighting sleep. Usually, I would moan and whine, but for her to even care enough about something to lose sleep over it is just AMAZING to me! I love it. I'm thrilled. I'm thankful.

For some reason, and while it may be provincial, I'm not yet quite sure it is the "VOICE OF GOD", it's just an intense desire. I want her off of Topomax. It's her last drug. They halved her dose a couple of months ago, and I just want to be rid of it. It's just not letting go of me, this desire. Monday I am calling to beg our nurse for permission to try. You have to get permission because of insurance, and mostly because it's not really a good idea to go AMA. Mostly that. I just wish I had some other reason than, "I don't really know why, it's a hunch, and all I really have to say, I just really really really think we need to try this". I just don't have much more than that. I'm totally okay with eating my words if I'm wrong, if it's a mistake, I am. I just want to try. Now.

It doesn't shock me that the more Sophie catches up on her development, the more I want to see her walk. She is so beautiful. I don't know why this means SO SO much to me. I just need to see her walk. I NEED to know she wont be one of those kids in a wheelchair. I have no idea what other obstacles are going to be in her path, but she will walk. Until she does, I have no idea how I'm going to stay calm. I'm sure I'll find a way. I just have to see her walk. It has to happen. It just has to happen. Oh please, God, give her walking.

A Month Later

I just reread my post from last month. I started crying all over again. My, that was so terrible. So, so difficult.

I want to share a little story. I had the honor of knowing Beryle Howerton for only a few short months. He was one of the very first adults to love me just the way I was and encourage me to be just the way I was, which, frankly, was a smart ass. I loved him. I felt loved by him. He never sized me up, or kept me at a distance. I was his legacy the moment his son married my mom, I and knew he counted me as such. And I loved him for it. My affection for him was one of those things that just went very deep very fast. It hasn't happened often for me. Really.

My freshman year of high school, he died of a stroke. It was sudden and shocking. I was shocked. I so looked forward to getting to know him more. I am finding it hard to relay this, but I was very moved by his death considering I had met him only 4-5 times.

I was part of the marching band, and the clarinet players were all piled into the bus waiting to go to whatever football field the game would be at. I stood up to make an announcement. With a small timid voice, I told everyone that my mentor has passed and that I would like to dedicate this show to him, to honor him. The few friends I had already made agreed with sympathy in their eyes. One girl, however, made fun of me. She said something about being tired of hearing about my grandpa and me needing to get over it. Something like that. It cut all the way through me. I was suddenly aware of my dramatic need to validate his life and our relationship, to show everyone that I cared for him, and I was ashamed of it now. I sat down with my heart on fire and in my throat. My eyes stung, and I wondered what was even wrong with me that I felt the need to make such a request of practical strangers.

I wonder now if that rude girl had ever experienced a loved one lost? I also now remember the stoic look of another girl who never took any shit and was quick to dress you down. She nodded that she would, indeed, honor Beryle that night, or fancy the whim of a silly freshman. I wonder who she might have been missing that night. I think, now, my request was a little silly, expecting everyone else to care on the same level that I did. However, I think it was kind of brave, sharing my grief like that. Since then, it's been very hard for me to grieve, but I've been learning how. I just wonder how that rude remark might have affected me.

"Your pain is stupid and it makes the rest of us uncomfortable"

"No one cares about what you care about"

I dont know, really. This was just on my mind.

My, This Is a Deep Hole.

I like to read over what I've been writing about to try and get some sort of idea what the whole blog package looks like. Sorry to say it, but here is another downer.

I thought things were grimmish when I wrote that last post. This month, November, has kicked my ass all around the block. I just have to say, first, that there is a whole lot to be thankful for. There really really is. And I am trying my very best to keep some perspective because I know things could start going up tomorrow, and I might be sorry I bitched and whined. However, it seems like experience tells me that until I bitch and moan and groan, things just stay the same, like some kind of purging activity. Though, I don't necessarily believe that life's orchestration is mainly based on my emotional health (though, I do think it has an effect, more and more as time goes on).

ANYWAY. Lets, see, how did this all start. Yes, at the end of Oct. my cousin died. We weren't close by any stretch, but he was family. And I am pretty certain he did not go to Heaven. He apparently had some major beef with God. I don't think or know what I could have done about that, but it was just weird. I am very sad for his family, especially my aunt, who I am close to. To have your baby boy (he was 29) jerked out of your life.... And things were not going well for him either. He was having horrible issues re: being able to see his one year old son. His whole life was caught up in trying to sort all of that out. There was a lot about his death that was tragic.

After that, though it might not seem like a big deal to anyone else, we had daylight savings. That funked Sophia up in a way I had not seen previously. And when Sophia ain't happy, Sugar, Ain't. No. One. Happy. We also started an epilepsy drug wean during that time. For two weeks, that child was 6 kinds of uncomfortable. Of course, her birthday landed smack dab in the middle of all that. Happy Birthday, Sophia, you can't do anything a 7 months can do, and you aren't even happy. Ever. I actually feel very shitty about the 7 month old thing, but I am really torn up about her lack of development. It's not for my sake. Or, you know what, maybe some of it is. She was so so so normal for 6 months and then KaBLOOM. It just kills me that in 6 months almost nothing has changed despite her hard work, the pain she's been through, and frankly, all that praying.

I thought, though, if I could just make it to the 15th. On the 15th, we would go to the hospital, we would start this ketogenic diet, it would solve all of our problems, and hip hip hooray. I should clarify that I didn't have all my hopes hinged on this. I did have good reason to think it would work very well for us, but I also knew just to wait and see based on experience. Well, in four days, girlfriend tripled her seizures. It was a nightmare. Lots of crying, lots of (failed) needle pokes. On Tues they just decided she needed surgery for a boil which required general anesthesia. Things went smoothly, but no one told me, and what was supposed to take 45 min ended up taking 2 hours b/c no one bothered to tell mom that everything was fine. Anyway, they discharged us early since her diet was going well. That was a Weds.

That particular Weds, my Papa had a heart attack that required emergency open heart surgery. When I got home, he was in the ICU 4 hours away. I had a baby on a VERY strict diet with a surgical incision to take care of, so I couldn't even dream of leaving, either taking her with me or leaving her in the care of someone else. I might have if she were normalish, but schedule interruptions aggravate the seizures. So my mom, who had come down to help with my son, had to leave the next day. Well, my early discharge was authorized on the assumption that I would have a lot of help to get all the new things taken care of (that, two weeks later, I am STILL trying to wrap up). So that made it administratively hard for me, but also, there is the fact that my granddad is probably not going to last the night.

He did, and the next. I wish I could say, "And then he pulled through!", but no, this is my story of my shitty month, remember. His three kids took him off of the ventilator and he died on Sunday. Less tragic in the way that he really did make the most of his last years. The night before he had his heart attack, he was out swing dancing! He was in his mid 80's! I know he was saved, so I know I'll see him again. Thank God. What really sucks about his death for me is that I spent so much time judging him. On one hand, he had made the bed, and I was happy to let him lie in it. He did something things that were very serious in my eyes against his kids over his life, and even in the last 5 years. However, in talking to my mom about it a few weeks ago, she said he really has been changing over the last year. I knew he had found church since my nanny died, but it seems like he finally found Jesus as well. I hope so. I was just really judgmental towards him. No mercy. Admittedly, his care wasn't in my hands, so my opinions didn't affect him at all, but I do regret several of the things I've said and thought about him. I even decided to talk to him since his death and ask for forgiveness. Did I mention that the aunt that lost her son, that this was her dad? Yeah. Wow that sucks.

Oh yeah, and they kicked Sophia out of the nursery at church until they have a doctor's note. I've had a hard time getting that from my doc and I STILL don't know if it says all the right stuff (I'm supposed to fax it tomorrow). They lady Ive been connected with since this epilepsy thing started was heart broken to tell me this, and I really appreciated that. But liability is liability, and they want to make sure it is safe for Sophia that I drop her off with non medically trained personnel. I get it, but holy moly, it has put a cramp in my style. I was unaware how much I needed that weekly sing it out fest with my congregation.

Getting used to the diet hasn't been terrible or even terribly hard, it's just been one more thing on the pile. for instance, it took me one whole day to get someone to tell me how the hell I could get pain medication into my daughter without screwing up everything we had just done at the hospital. Then there was the constipation that lasted for 4 days at a time, the enemas, taking care of the surgery site, the seizures, the decline of seizures, but not anywhere near the cessation of seizures (this stuff really does take time and its only been two weeks). Turns out her boil was MSRA and now I have to find SOMEONE who will give me this stupid nose swap so I'm not a carrier anymore because her pediatrician won't do it.

My birthday came and went with barely a breeze. Thanksgiving was pretty nice, until Sophie has a mega seizure at the end. She has gotten very sensitive after just waking up for seizures. We tried to go out for my birthday tonight on my husbands first night off in 7 days. And he works 14 hours per shift overnight, so it's not like he's been able to rest anyway. But alas, sleeping beauty (the baby) slept too late. I didn't want to wake my girl b/c I know she is prone to seizures if woken up, and then, at 2100, she ended up having a seizure anyway. Thanks epilepsy. Husband works another 4 nights before his next day off. Thanks Retail!

And I am just so so busy. I have so so much to do, and I don't have enough day to do it. Well, I would if I could get out of the house, but Sleepy McSleeperton sleeps ALL THE TIME. Which I think is actually a good thing, giving her brain a rest, but shucky darns batman, I have errands to run. And a whole lot of them. And we are refinancing the house. Why did we decided to do that NOW? And I think I'm struggling with a bit of depression, so that is sapping much of the motivational edge I need to really put the pedal to the metal and get it done.

The kicker is my good friend, who has basically kept me afloat is leaving. She came into my life a couple of months before this seizure shit storm started in May. Now, she is moving on with her life. She got a job in Austin, she will be deploying next year. She loves being in the Army, so she is doing what she can to enjoy that career as well as properly raise her almost 3 year old son. I am so proud of her. I wont take the time to enumerate on how essential she has been to my sanity and emotional survival in the last few months. Just trust me, it has been tantamount. She is closing on her house tomorrow and moving Friday. Today is Monday. I am crushed. We've tried to talk about it, and me, miss gabby talks and shares too much, I just can't go there. I choke up when I even think about it. My heart physically hurts to write this out. I have no idea what I'll do, but somehow we have managed to schedule time together everyday until Friday. I want to help her pack, but I don't know if she'll want me there, I'll be bawling the. entire. time. I know that is technically in December, but we'll just lump it in with November, because next month cannot go this bad. I cannot handle any more grief, struggles, hardships, losses, changes, upsets, or anything like that. Well, perhaps I can, but not without all the crying.

There have definitely been ways to spin some of this stuff positively, but I'm just not there. I hope to God I am at the end of this valley and that it is time to start climbing uphill again. So what has saved this month from the deep? My husband and his strength and support, tenderness, and snuggles. My son and his need to play and have fun and not tolerate my half-hearted efforts. When Sophie smiles. Alysha and her constant encouragement. She literally makes me courageous to get through the next day/week/month. God. When he actually and really takes away my fear, anger, sadness and gives me strength, patience, love, and peace (still working on Joy). I am so confused. I am weary. I am sad. I know that things can get much much worse, but this is pretty damn bad. There is a silver lining on every cloud and when it stops raining in my eyes, I will be looking for it.

In All Fairness

It's probably not fair to post something like I just did and not explain even a little.

My sweet sweet, beautiful, darling, precious daughter was diagnosed with a shitty, piece of shit, awful, son of a jackal disease in May. It's called Infantile Spasms, it is a seizure disorder, and it has just stolen so much from her I can't stand it! Sound a little bitter? A little angry? Well, I've been putting on a nice face, and if you can't bitch in your anonymous blog, well then, WHERE THE HELL CAN YOU?! Hm? That's what I thought. Sit down. This poor girl was having 3 seizures a day. They were really setting her back developmentally, still kind of are. They have slowed down a little to 1-2 a day, but sometimes zero. I hate having to look at my beautiful daughter and think about what is being stolen from her at this moment and what might be stolen from her in the future.

That right there, that idea is just the worst damn thing for me. It's so hard to deal with. And I know, I KNOW, dont borrow tomorrow's troubles. See the silver lining. I know..... I'm trying. Most of the time I do okay. It's just when I get around kids who are doing so much, or I see 6 month olds who are standing in their crib, who probably say "Mama", it just slays me. If these seizures would stop, she would catch up, but they aren't stopping. We have plans, and God, Oh God, please, please, please heal our girl.

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You know what is really hard to hear, "I don't know how you cope with all of this. I wouldn't be able to do it." Uh, Ive gained 20lbs and cry all the damn time. I'm really not coping. It's because of Jesus that I haven't lost my damn mind, but I'm not dealing with it very well. Maybe it get's better with practice. Anyway, Larry has started back up with the whispering and threatening. Better close this up.

You have a good day now, ya hear! God bless you! :-D

By the Balls

I feel like "Life", let's call him Larry, has a gun to my back. In my ear, he whispers, "Don't stop smiling. Don't stop having fun. Figure it out. Find the balance. Take care of everyone. Take care of yourself. Don't you dare stop fucking smiling." Then Larry, who is maintaining his own smile, punches me in the kidney. I bend over, moan in pain, hold my side, grimace, perhaps cry a bit. He gives me just a second before jabbing my shoulder blade with the barrel of his gun and repeating his mantra, "Don't you dare stop smiling. Or I will fucking end you in ways you can't imagine. Just keep moving."

Oh, Life.

So I had my daughter. She is amazing. I just love her. I also appreciate just how easy she is. They don't always come that way. My favorite thing about her is that she smiles! All I have to do it smile at her once and it sets off a whole batch of open mouthed smiles that melt my heart. I had to work really hard for Matthew's smiles, so I'm loving this. She is almost 3 months. She is sleeping through the night which doesn't make me love her more, but sure makes me feel better in the mornings.

I am able to stay at home with my kids for this time, and I am thrilled to be doing so. It is not easy, but I didn't expect it to be. I finally feel like I am starting to make traction with all the care-taking, chores, errands, and cooking that needs to be done. It is funny that I will get one thing done well, but something else squishes out to the sides. This week I have been really good about getting the house work done, but guess how many lunches I have packed for my poor husband? Yup, not one. That seems to be my life's motto at the moment; "Progress, not Perfection".

That is actually a focus taking up a lot of my attention lately. I am really trying to learn how to rely on God's provision, but I just don't understand how that works. I get that he provides, but I what I do understand is what to do when he isn't providing enough. I don't mean material things, I ALWAYS have enough of that. But this sin issue I've got, I just don't understand how NOT to operate in my own strength or how to ask for his, and what to do when I feel like I haven't received it. And if I have received it, but I don't feel like I have, if I sin is that my fault or his? Except that I don't ever think it is God's fault that I sin. I just don't understand. Maybe that is a good question for a forum?

Anyway, super busy, but I hadn't written in a bit.

My Friend Had a Baby!

I've been a part of 3 pregnancies this year. Also, all 3 pregnancies have involved the 3 women I spend the most time with. How bout that? And, if you've forgotten, Im pregnant too, and highly anticipating my own birth. There is somethin' in the water.

2 of those births have been c-sections, and it was kind of weighing on me. I was starting to wonder if anyone I knew would have a vaginal birth, or if I would be the only odd duck doing things the way nature intended. That is to say, not that these ladies wanted c-sections, they didn't, and they had them for good reasons, but still, do you get what I'm trying to say here?

Anyway, Im so happy she had a good delivery. Apparently it took them a little longer than desired to get her epidural going, which is less than awesome. All things considered though, I am so glad she didn't have a c-section. AND she barely tore. Apparently they just hooked her up with one stitch, which is awesome. I'm just thrilled. Sometimes they just set women up for c-sections, and she easily could have been on of those women. I am just so happy she wasn't!

Because I just can't help by make things about me, I'm gonna have to say it. I CANT WAIT TO HAVE MY BABY!!! I don't know what the hell I am going to do with 2 children, but I guess millions of people have figured it out before me and will continue doing so after me so I should have a fair shot at this. :-) I am just so excited. If I have Sophie at the same point in pregnancy as I had Matthew, I would only have 2 weeks to go! THATS IT! But hopefully she will hold out just a wee bit longer. I wouldn't even mind if she went all the way to 40 weeks (famous last words). We shall see. There is just no way to know these things. We will check my cervix at my next appointment, so that will give us an idea, but not much else. I was a 2 at 36weeks with Matthew and had him a few days later. I know I could walk around at a 2 for weeks, but it is just an indicator. We'll see. Either way, I have majorly geared up the getting ready for baby process. I finished up her blanket this weekend, which was the last craft project to do. All I need to do now is finish up a little bit of shopping and hang up one more thing on the wall. However, that can get done at anytime. Even the shopping isn't totally imperative. It's mostly small stuff that could wait until later.

All that to say, I am ready, and I am excited. I want her fully cooked, for sure, but MAN I can't wait until I get to hold her! In the mean time, I sure am enjoying my last few weeks with Matthew all alone. He seems to know there is a big change on the horizon. He has become much more cuddly and sweet, which isn't his nature. He is more the Whirling Dervish type. A sweet Whirling Dervish, but whirling all the same. Stopping long enough to be held is uncommon for him.

Also, I have quite the list of things to wrap up at the office before I am done here. Since I won't be returning, I really need to make sure all the loose ends are tied up! So that is what I am going to start working on RIGHT NOW! Have a good Monday! I know I sure am!

Whoo-wee, Im Whooped

A friend came over today and helped me clean my house top to bottom! I feel so good! I feel so sore! My back and feet are screaming "Mercy!" and I really want a diet 7-up right now. Don't ask, I can't tell you.

Wait, yes I can. I had my glucose tolerance test done the other day, er, week. I didn't fail it, but the midwife said I had to pretend like I did anyway. Her thought was that even though I didn't pass, I only barely didn't fail. This means my pancreas still has to work a little too hard. She thought it would be a good idea to give the ole pancreas a rest and put me on a restricted diet. My calories aren't restricted, but what I can eat is. Severely. No carbs, well, no food billed as a carb. No sugar. No peas or corn. One low sugar fruit a day. So basically no fruit. It's been meat, cheese, veggies, and nuts around here lately. Lots and lots of nuts.

I have strayed into the land of sugar free items, but not too heavily. I enjoy some sugar free pudding from time to time, but otherwise, it is pretty dull. And actually, that is the problem, it is pretty rich. What I would give for a plain ole piece of bread, or a buttered potato. But nope, its some kind of cheesy, meaty thing. Or it is plain ole veggies, but you might as well put air in my stomach for all the lasting satisfaction they give me. Harumpf. It's not that bad and I have lost weight, which is saying something since I am in my third trimester of pregnancy. I'm not trying to lose weight, but let me tell you how not tempted I am to over eat now. I barely get enough food in my belly to call it a meal before I say, "Um, no thanks, I'm squicked out now."

Anyway, it's a blessing really. I was eating NOTHING but carbs and sugar before the switch, which I'm sure contributes to the difficulty of the situation. So this is like a very much needed slap in the behind. I'm just really hoping I can keep it up after the bella bambina gets here.

Quick Thoughts

making ribs for the first time tonight, kinda nervous.

Matthew is the best son ever. Yes, he is better than yours. Sorry bout that.

Jesus loves me this I know, for the bible told me so. and so did the Holy Spirit. He tells me everyday, actually. Its awesome. You should ask him (he is with you now) and see what he says. I'll put $1,000,000 on "I love you, (insert your name here)".

Uh. I have to make other things for dinner, not just ribs, and I am kinda stuck... mashed taters? greens? We sure love our greens around here.

There is a baby in my belly and I am officially excited to see her come out! I've been nervous up til now, but now, I'm just plain ole ready.

I love my husband, and I am really enjoying the "up" our marriage is having right now. I love you "up"! Hopefully when we hit the next down, I'll remember that this too shall pass. Let's hope.

Hope! I've been doing that a lot lately. Learning how to hope again.

I am so mad at my dog. She got out of our yard, took her one last puppy with her, and then left him! Our one last puppy is gone. As a pregnant woman and mother, I'm livid. That puppy could be dead by now, but I will HOPE someone stopped to pick him up. He was the essence of cute, so I think that probably happened. I'm not putting up posters because I was already trying to find a home for him anyway, and if someone has him that can return him, I don't really want them to. I want them to keep him. It would give me better peace of mind, but I think I will still leave it be.

I have GOT to finish the laundry tonight, and by golly, I think I will. I really want to sweep the kitchen and vacuum the floors, too. I'm feeling rather ambitious considering I have 2 1/4 hours left til bed time to do those things, finish and eat dinner, and get my child to bed, all with a belly full of baby.

Puppies!

Hey! My dog had her puppies! It was SUCH a COOL experience!

I did eventually start researching about whelping puppies. The gist? Let mom take care of it and if it looks abnormal, go to a vet. Okay.... Anyway, I was really glad for my experience helping out my midwife. That made a lot of difference. My dog did a really good job. She took care of most everything. I was mostly there for labor support. When she would be to the point of passing a puppies, she would hide her big head in my armpit and move her bottom around until a puppy came out. She then went to work. After she got through the amniotic sac, I would start working on getting the puppy to breathe while she worked on the umbilical cord. We could then together take care of the mess. She ate most of it (kind of gross and also really convenient), but I was in charge of the chux pads. I got really good at aiming where I thought the puppy would ultimately come out.

She is being a great mother! She had 8 pups, 6 girls and 2 boys. They are all fat and happy. My "runt" is doing really well. I heard that sometimes a mom will kick a puppy or two out of the litter and refuse to let them nurse. A lot of times that can be your runt. I'm not concerned with her being the same size as the rest of the litter. I just want to make sure she is growing, and she is. It has been just over 2 weeks now. Their eyes are open, and I saw yesterday that their ears were starting to open. Soon they will have teeth and Mama might kick them off the boob, so the real work will begin. They are definitely getting messier and messier. In the last couple of days they have started to poop and pee on their own. Mom still cleans it up, but it's already been on the floor by that time where as she used to get it all up by licking them. Messy. Soon we will be adding puppy food to the mess! Yay! I'm starting the daily cleaning routine. I change the blanket they are using, mop the floor, and then feed and water Mom. Soon Ill be adding food and water for babies. Then Ill be adding outside time for everyone. Then Ill be adding some kind of elementery potty training. Yay! It's about to get CRAZY at my house! It will be puppies all the time!

I just really hope the people that said they wanted one still want one when it comes time to let them go home. They better! OR ELSE!

But oh my goodness, can I tell you how good it feels to snuggle with these little guys? I have to wear a t-shirt otherwise they claw my chest to bits, but they are so soft and sweet. Some are sweeter than others already, some are way more interested in trying to play bite. All are interested in having their little bellies scratched. It is fun to see their little personalities starting to emerge. It would probably be similar to a 2 month old human baby that can smile and kind of laugh.

Anyway, its cuteness to the max and it is about to become craziness to the max!

One Lucky Beotch

My schedule right now is awesome!

I can't really tell anyone that because then I get the glare of doom. I wish everyone could work a schedule that is as awesome for them as mine is for me. Here's the scoop. I work all day Monday, all day Wednesday, and Friday morning. Here is a better way of looking at it.

Sun - off
Mon- on
Tues - off
Wed - on
Thurs - off
Fri - 1/2 on
Sat - off

So basically, my week is made of up Fridays and Saturdays. Except for Sunday. Sunday will always be Sunday. No one messes with Sunday, do they? Isn't that schedule awesome?! Even Monday, the dreaded Monday, is really like Friday because I have the next day off! I'm still getting used to it, and it will be over soon, when I deliver my lil' punkin. Still, it's awesome. I get so much more done now. Except today I will be napping, because despite my best efforts I have missed out on several hours of sleep this week. It's not a lot for a normal person, but it's turning this preggo into the walking dead.

However, this only serves to prove my point that I am one lucky beotch. Who gets to go home early on Friday and take a nap? No one. Who wants to? Everyone.

Ya Know, Stuff

I feel good.

I straightened my hair the other day and it looked GOOD. And it was easy, and very repeatable.

I am really liking Gateway as a church. I mean really really. Can I tell you how I long for a South Campus of some sort? Jesus? Can we work on that?

Oh, and the reason I am liking Gateway, well, it takes more than I want to put in right now, but lets just say that Jesus is awesome. Not in that, "Im a preteen and I say this to fit in!" way, but in that "Oh my GOD life is really hard and I am so bad at life, but hey, there is Jesus and he really loves me, I mean a lot" way. I know when you say, "Jesus died for you", it's like an in one ear and out the other phrase. Think of when you are trying to tell someone about how much you love your kids, even if they are a parent themselves, you just know they aren't getting it, "No, you don't understand, I LOVE him!". It's like that. Jesus is AWESOME. Lets just all assume none of us are really understanding just how awesome Jesus is.

I really love my nephew. He is so beautiful. I can't wait to see what kind of person he becomes.

Itunes is a RAM sucker. It's frickin 10 pm, finish up so I can go to bed!

My son. I love saying that, "my son". Ive noticed that everyone just assumes new mothers want a girl. Even now that Im getting a girl, I kinda miss the fact that I won't have another boy around the house. I love love boys. And girls scare me. Please Jesus, let this be a cool girl. Or rather, let me be a good mom for whatever type of girl you give me.

My dog is about to give birth to puppies any day now. Seriously. I am so excited and nervous.

Like I said, I feel good.

Oh, and we have a first name for the girl. Sophia. But that is subject to change.

Mixed Bag

Today, I'm a mixed bag. This weekend was less than easy. It wasn't hard in the sense that I will remember it forever as being a hard weekend. It was just... way less than easy. I'm trying to work really hard to get ready for the impending change coming up. We are about to have a new litter of puppies (which I REALLY need to research), and I am about to have my own child a couple months after those puppies are taken care of. Warren is most likely going to let me stay home, which means that all of our disposable income is about to be sucked away. I desperately want to stay home with my kids for some time (a year?), but as far as I can tell, Warren desperately wants disposable income. I know all the women out there are thinking, "Well, being a mother comes before money, so your need is more valid". Maybe they aren't, but it's what the selfish part of me thinks. However, Warren's need to make sure his family is provided for is pretty significant. I grew up without a present mom, so it is what I want to provide. He grew up without stuff and was teased mercilessly about it, so it is what he wants to provide. Lord, please please please figure this out. Help me or Warren get over not getting what we want for a time, or better yet, is there a way we can both have what we want?

In my attempt to bribe Warren into letting me stay home, I have agreed to get a flat screen TV. We really don't have the money for this. I mean, we kinda do, if you are of the average American mindset, they we have PLENTY of money for a new TV and all the new expenses we are about to incur with a new baby. But if you are of a more responsible mindset than the average American, you know, this is less than responsible. I think there is a little war between my shoulder angel and demon, neither one really good or bad, just on opposite sides.

I really wish my dad would help out. I really wish my boss would lay me off instead of having to quit so I could draw unemployment. I really wish Warren would get promoted to Co-Manager, so money wouldn't be an issue. I really wish I were getting ALL of the things I want for this baby (clothes, cloth diapers, wrap).

Really, when it comes down to it, I really only want those things. I have everything else and the rest is just stuff. I need clothes, but cloth diapers and this particular wrap are really extra, though I really want them. I bet I could even find a swing from someone who wasn't using theirs anymore. But I don't have to have the swing. So really, not much to get in that area. Oh, and I could really use a pack and play, but that is cheap on craigslist.

I am so nervous about my dog having puppies. I have no freaking clue what to do or look for, and unfortunately, as Ive already bitched about, I don't have money to really take care of her if something goes wrong. I know, I know, but what about the TV you say? Well, I don't really have the cash for that in the first place, do I? I am not an animal hater, but neither do I give them human status, or equal as human status. I think I have a responsibility to this dog, as her owner, but I'm really not going to go much out of my way to shelter her from what nature wouldn't. If I had lots of disposable income, then I would spend it on her, but I don't. So I am trying to do the best by her without putting my family in a bad financial situation. Basically, I'm not draining savings for a dog, and I'm not going in debt for a dog. Isn't it funny how we worry about dogs not having homes, which really is only a problem because we refuse to let them hang out in nature? "I really love you puppy and everyone should love you as much as I do, but what I will not tolerate is HAVING LOOSE DOGS ON THE STREET! AGGHHH!!!" *rolling the eyes* If lose dogs on the street are so dangerous (and they really can be) then why do we take them into our homes? My random thoughts on pet ownership and how it is just a pet, not a person.

ANYWAY, I'm super excited to have some puppies and a baby girl (whom I don't know what to name), and I am kinda nervous. Having watched God provide for Shay should make me ashamed to be so nervous. How about this? I'll be a littler nervous, but I'll continue to believe that God will figure out something? In the meantime, maybe I'll figure out that he always provides.

I'm not really afraid that God wont provide, I'm afraid that my husband is going to get scared and then yank away my last chance to do the only thing I've ever wanted to do, and that is be a stay at home mom. I hate having it so close and then feeling like I'm not going to get it. And I hate that Warren is going to treat me bad and probably have a bad attitude the entire time. And I hate that I am going to have to take it, and that instead of growing up and being gracious, he is going to be a jerk. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm going to have to be the bigger man, like he has been so many times, and I'm afraid I'm going to fail, because I SUCK at being the bigger man.

My Nephew pt 2

So I knew as soon as I posted something about how I felt and made it a semi permanent part of this blog, I would be reassured, humbled, or something. Well, sho nuff, sho nuff batman, I was a little of both.

I was airing out my frustrations to my mother, which I always have to do carefully. She can pick up on a bad mood quickly and make it worse even quicker. It's the sad truth. Thanks for caring mom, but talking to you about it does not help. I dont know if it is because she is mostly right and it just hurts to hear the truth in a bad mood or if it is because she tries to explain why you shouldn't be upset in the first place, which is just about the worst thing I can think of to help someone. I think she does both. I know she means well. I do.

Well, I realized right after I got off the phone that I did the same thing to her that I think Caroline is doing to me; pushed her away. Mom was just doing her best to help me feel better, but it wasn't working and I didn't know how to be nice about it because she was actually making things worse. I'ld bet a million bucks that is what I was putting Caroline through. I was trying to make things better, but I wasn't hitting her target and I was just making it worse and worse. Unlike me though, she probably didn't know how to tell me to just shut the hell up. Not that I know how, but that I'll say it anyway.

Anyway, it makes me feel a little better, like she isn't trying to dump me as a friend. I don't think anyway. :-) And Warren helped me realize last night that if Caroline doesn't want to fight the breastfeeding battle, then she just doesn't have to. She knows she can ask me anything and she knows she has a whole host of support, so she can draw on it if she wants to. So I don't really have to worry about it. Just because I love breastfeeding doesn't mean I can make her love it. And that is okay.

But I didn't even write about that yesterday, did I? Nope, I totally left out how afraid I was that she was rejecting me as a friend, and that whole post really did not have a lot to do with how I felt (although, I still think she would have benefited from my opinion, but I guess that is part of the human plight, pride).

Anyway, they are home, and he is doing well, and if Matthew doesn't sleep the whole evening away, I might get to go visit them! Maybe I'll get to hug him this time.

My Nephew

Oh, you should be warned. This might be a bit of a hornet's nest.

My sweet, adorable nephew, Aiden, was born Wed, July 1st. Isn't that a great birthday? I have this thing with dates, and that one sits very well with me. It must be fun to be the 1st! Anyway, it was a totally routine, necessary c-section (the necessary part is pretty important to me). He was *this* close to being a full 8 lbs. And like most babies of insulin dependent moms (or so I'm told) his blood sugar crashed. That's not a huge deal, except he was stuck in the nursery for a day, so Mom who was recovering from surgery couldn't see him, but Dad could. Then the little punk thought he would just start breathing too fast. Again, I don't know much about this, but apparently that is pretty worrisome. THEN, they found a heart murmur.

Shoo-wee child, cantcha give us a break? Or, cantcha catch one? Anyway, its meant 4 days all but alone in the nursery, and finally last night they were moved into a live-in situation where he could be monitored, and Mom and Dad could be with him 24/7. Let's pray that tomorrow they can go home, right?

Let me be the first to say, I hate this whole thing for Caroline and Geoff. As someone who has a little bit of experience medically in that grey area of "well, its not that bad and its not that great", I know, its HARD. Obviously, when it's great, you go on your merry way and totally take for granted how great everything is. It's just the way of things. When it's bad, you cry, you wail, you gnash teethe, and eventually come to find some acceptance in your situation, a little bit of peace in the midst of the suck. It's a far sight less awesome than great, but at least you know where you are. But when it could be either, it's just plain hard. It's like when you are waiting for the test results to your biopsy, or you wonder what the result of your MRI was only to find out it was clean for one thing, but dirty for another. It's not bad yet, but it's still not good.

You know you ought to be thankful for the parts that haven't gone bad yet, but for me that just leads to a list of all the other things that could go wrong. And how will this affect my health in the future? And truth be told, I'm going to live, I'm going to make it, but will I ever get to be normal again, like I was? It's like a roller coaster that instead of feeling good, feels bad, so you have all these ups and downs and you never really know how to feel, and you are told to just keep waiting, we'll see how it goes. Its such a feeling of powerlessness. It's humbling in that not so sweet way. You get to watch everyone else control their lung function, their fertility, their sanity, but you can't, or well, you don't know yet. All these things that everyone everyday takes for granted that they get power over, you don't for the time being. It's hard, let me tell you, real hard.

Of course, I've only had it applied to myself, not my child, so I'm sure that is a whole other ball of wax. A big, awful, rank, rude ball of wax with your baby stuck in the middle.

Here is where this post become all about me. Which I felt bad about for a second, but then remembered this blog is mine, so if you aren't reading this thing for my perspective, then I'm probably going to upset you a lot.

Allow me to admit that even though I have almost no medical training, I have a low intervention philosophy and I really really REALLY believe in the power of the mother/baby bond. I think when you keep mom and baby separated you take huge risks, so it should only be for something really bad that they should be separated. I think Dad's are a great first runner up, but they were not physically built to meet all of a babies needs, and I don't think they are emotionally or hormonally built to meet their needs like mom is. Do NOT get me wrong, I think Dad's are an indispensable part of a family unit, just that they aren't literally built to provide every single need for an infant. I totally understand that keeping mothers and babies together when things get iffy introduces a ton of variables and makes the process a lot less streamlined. But if the whole point is to keep baby healthy or get the baby to healthy, I just haven't seen a case where keeping mom out of the equation helps. Rather, I've seen and have come to understand that mom's involvement makes the world of difference.

I saw the epitome of these two thoughts this week. The nursery Aiden was in was your standard baby nursery, not the NICU, not something else, just your plain ole nursery. They, the very well qualified, nice, caring nurses, kept him in there under lock and key because he was stressed. WHY IN THE WORLD didn't anyone consider that maybe he was stressed because he missed the one person who is built to care for him? Babies and mothers have physiological responses to one another that promote health and well being. He was probably stressed more at night because mom was in her room sleeping instead of checking on him more regularly. He was probably stressed because you were poking him with IV's (totally necessary) and feeding him through a tube (also necessary). But if we know what we are doing is stressing a baby out and also necessary, then lets calm down, finish the procedure, and promptly return him to mom. Even when babies need to be highly monitored, they should do so with mom.

Then we have the live-in nursery. Totally different approach. I was still not allowed to touch him, though I could be around him. Around 8pm, the charge nurse came in and said, "Okay, time to check your vitals, so you can eat!" and of course, Aiden started crying because he was hungry and now couldn't snuggle with mom, which of course, messed up his vitals. What did the nurse do? She said, "Okay, lets calm down, mom, you come hold his hand, lets use this pacifier to calm him for the moment. He is just hungry." She knew that taking a babies vitals when they are hungry promotes the cycle of stressed baby begets more interventions which begets a more stressed baby. She had to take them, but she didn't just say, "He's stressed, lets shove this tube down his throat AGAIN." She helped him calm down, got an accurate vitals and said, "Mom, you're the best thing for him now" even when she knew mom was about to try breastfeeding for the first time (stressful). And it was stressful, but she gave it a shot (and even though he didn't latch right on, things looked really good to me. He did all the normal stuff I see new babies do with new moms. I think they'll get it if she doesn't stop trying.), then gave Aiden his bottle and he went right to sleep. No more stress. JUST LIKE A NORMAL BABY. I think if you treat sick babies like sick babies, they stay sick, but if you allow sick babies to try and be healthy babies, you get healthy. I'm not saying she should have over done it, but we all respond well to a little bit of stress, it's overstressing that is worrisome, and I think keeping mom from baby is the number one thing you can do to overstress a baby. Period. Dot.

Like I said, not a medical professional, not even close. It's just what I think. It's how I parent.

So maybe not period dot. I was just thinking how trying to eliminate all the stress is this child's life is actually contributing to making it more stressful. And I think that is why I'm so mad about it. Instead of letting him try to climb whatever hill he can, they cut him off at the pass. For instance, his blood sugar tanked, so they had to keep him in there to get that stabilized with a glucose drip. He couldn't climb that hill, he needed intervention. Then he started breathing fast (a sign of stress, I'm told). Instead of getting him and mom together immediately and then assessing him for a real stressor, they kept the one person made to reassure him and calm him down away. For days they just kept looking at him and asking, "I wonder what the deal is with this baby? He is totally healthy and can control his blood sugar, but he is stressed out over SOMETHING!?! We better keep him away from mom a little while longer." COME ON! It just kept snowballing until finally someone said, " lets get him in a different room where he can hang out with mom". So far, so freaking good! GAH! And part of me is upset with my friend because she could have been in there a lot more, she has just always been afraid to rock the boat. That whole nursery was concerned with Aiden's well-being, but no one is more concerned about his well-being than his mom. She should have a considerable amount of input. And really she does, she just didn't use it, didn't know she could, and if I even tried to make a suggestion it was shot down. So part of me feels like she facilitated some of this situation. I hate feeling like that, but I do. I'm sure the pain of not having her baby was more severe than recovering from surgery! So why didn't she get in there? Because she was afraid. Afraid that she would upset someone, that she wouldn't know what to do, that her opinion regarding her son meant less than a nurses? I don't know, she just didn't.

I figured out this week that anger is real and good. It's the emotion that is triggered when someone feels the need to protect. It can used for bad, and should only be used for protection in an appropriate way. So even though anger is good, a lot of times it is misused and hurts people. With that, I am mad at her. I am mad that she alone had the power to improve his situation and didn't. And I am mad that she didn't know that. I am mad that if she had let me make it known, she wouldn't have believed it. I am mad because Aiden needed a measure of protection and didn't get it. And for a whole week I have been mad and couldn't tell you why. And now I know, and now I can release it. I can give it to God by saying, "I hate that he wasn't protected all of the way in the best way, and I hate that I couldn't do anything to change it. Thank you for being there for him when she couldn't or wouldn't. Thank you that you are in control, that you love Aiden more than any of us combined times a million. Thank you that I don't have to carry this around anymore because I give it to you. It's yours to deal with. Thank you for being God, and thank you that I am not. Help me forgive everyone involved for not protecting him in the way I thought was best. Thank you that everyone did the best job that they knew how. Help me forgive mom and dad for not allowing me to give my opinions. It hurt me a lot that they don't think what I have to say is valid when it doesn't go along exactly with what they think is valid. It hurts me that I don't want to tell them about it because I don't feel like I can when their son is not in the best of shape. I know they are in the middle of a storm anyway, so help me to forgive them and let it go without getting to discuss it with them. Help me extend some mercy to them as it is really hard to deal with complaints and hurts when you are hurting yourself." It's hard to be angry and not to anything about it, but that is just what Im gonna do.

So as I was bitching, I mean typing this out, it looks like just one day with mom was all they needed. He should be released today. Uh huh. That's right, I'm smug as a bug right now.

But ya know what? They are doing the best they can, and if they wanted my opinion, they would ask for it. They don't want my opinion, and maybe it's my pride that is hurt more than anything, because, obviously, I think highly of my opinions. Maybe I'm hurt more than they didn't want it all versus asking for it and not liking it. Maybe it is that I have a strong opinion about this and that they wouldn't give the time of day to something I thought was really important is what is hurting me. I think its a bit of it all.

Hornet's nest? Told ya so.

At the end of the day, Aiden is healthy, and beautiful, and will go on to be just fine. Amen.

I Have an Itch

I just have an itch to write something. I dont know what. I was reading through the haggard post and noticed a million mistakes and typos. I feel just about as tired right now. Therefore, I know it is really not a good idea to be posting, but here I am anyway. Just keep in mind, for every typo you see, I have corrected 15. Promise.

My nose is runny. I mean, like a lot runny. I mean, I had to use chap stick to make my chapped nose feel better runny. That's runny. You don't even know.

It looks like husband is going to get rid of the dog. I really like this dog, and we just got her back. She escaped the back yard for a week and then magically reappeared! It was awesome. Well, the only thing keeping her from perfection is this rather terrible thing. You see, she poops. In the house. A lot. She had actually just pooped 2 hours before this last accident, and Warren and I are diligent to make sure she gets out enough. If there is an exception though, to the routine, she will not tell us. She suffers in silence and then eventually, inevitably, she craps EVERYWHERE. Because this dog doesn't just lay down a massive pile and call it a day, oh no. She walks as she shits. That means there are 15-30 golf ball sized poopies all within a certain area, sometimes the living room, sometimes the bed room, sometimes the dining room. Either way it is a bi-atch to clean. And the smell. I have had dogs my whole life and I am still diapering a child, so I'm not new to the poop smell, but this poop is wake you up out of a dead sleep stinky. It is clogs your airways stinky. It is gag inducing stinky (even when you ARENT pregnant). It is the worst stink I know of. Im not exaggerating at all, but keep in mind, Ive never smelled rotting flesh, which is supposed to top the cake. I pretty much HATE this thing she does and wish and pray she would whine or stop or SOMETHING. Alas, I cannot figure out how to get this dog to talk to me. Poor thing knows its bad. She knows. I think she hates it more than we do. Well, that can't be true...

Warren HATES this problem. We got a dog, Panzer, for 9 months, and I knew after 2 days I hated her and wanted nothing to do with her. I tried for 9 months to like this dog, I really did. Eventually, she found a new home, which is my spineless way of saying I took her to the pound. So I have absolutely no ground to stand on when Warren says he wants this dog gone. And he is serious. The poop problem is just more than he can handle. I told him he had to do it though. I like this dog. I will miss this dog. I think it is tremendously irresponsible to give up a dog, however, Ive done it, so I feel like I can't blame him if he wants to do it. Also, if he insisted that we keep the dog I ousted, there would have been problems. So I can't even insist we keep her. I wont put my foot down because I am so thankful he didn't. So Im kind of stuck and I hate this for this dog.

All I know is, Im done with dogs. I love dogs and I love having pets, but we are obviously not responsible enough pet owners to actually have a dog. Maybe a cat. In several years. But my heart breaks for Panzer and now for Keiko. So, unless I am totally conviced I have my act together and have the money to vaccinate, medicate, and train another dog, I just won't do it.

I Feel GOOD! I Knew That I Would!

Yay! I finally feel pretty good. I love feeling good. I miss it when I don't feel good. Physically, not so hot, this pregnancy is being less kind than my previous one, but I know better than to complain too loudly because it can always get worse! Anyway, what I mean is that I feel good in my head. I think me and my crazy lady (counselor) are hitting on something really important for me, and I have high high hopes that this will help in some major areas I've been struggling in.

I realized the other day that I view life like a string in knots. Life was meant to be pleasant, straight forward, a beautiful process. But in this fallen world, sin gets our path tied up in knots. Also, sometimes because we are fallen, God has to put knots in our path so we can ultimately untie other, more important knots.

When you are in labor, it really does help to look at contractions as something with a purpose and to rename them. Instead of painful contractions, you can call them strong surges. The idea is that if you look at them as a good thing, as something that is ultimately helping you and your baby, you don't feel the pain the same because you don't regard the pain the same. You become more willing to work with the pain, you know each pain or surge is really working with you to bring your baby into the world, and that makes everything suck just a little less! Sometimes, a lot less!

While it is unfortunate that I was raised in such a way as to expect life to be hard and to suck (and I am dealing with the ways this has adverse affects on my life when it doesn't suck and isn't difficult), what is fortunate is that I have a perspective on hard events that I don't think other people have. A lot of the parts of myself that are good and that I really love and am glad I possess, I only have because of the struggles I've been through. There are so many WONDERFUL parts of my life, huge blessings, that I never would know or appreciate without the suffering I went through ahead of time. I should be clear and say that I am mostly talking about circumstantial suffering.

Now I am running out of time and just realizing that the whole point of this post was to talk about how good I feel. That's funny to me! Anyway, life is like a knotted string. For me. For now. :-) I don't know why, but thinking of life in that way makes me feel so much better about everything.

The Lord of Hosts

I get a daily email from this ministry, http://www.ransomedheart.com, and usually I delete them. It's sad but true. My heart is not in the best spot right now and a lot of religious stuff just hurts. Pretty much the only thing I seem to be able to put up with is how much God likes me. I know that isn't well rounded, but I figure that is an essential part of this whole thing. So with that perspective, check out the email I deigned to open today.

I was reading the prophet Jeremiah a few weeks ago when I ran across a passage that referred to God as “the Lord Almighty.” To be honest, it didn’t resonate. There’s something too religious about the phrase; it sounds churchy, sanctimonious. The Lawd Almiiiighty. It sounds like something your grandmother would say when you came into her kitchen covered in mud. I found myself curious about what the actual phrase means in Hebrew. Might we have lost something in the translation? So I turned to the front of the version I was using for an explanation. Here is what the editors said:

Because for most readers today the phrases “the Lord of hosts” and “God of hosts” have little meaning, this version renders them “the Lord Almighty” and “God Almighty.” These renderings convey the sense of the Hebrew, namely, “he who is sovereign over all the ‘hosts’ (powers) in heaven and on earth, especially over the ‘hosts’ (armies) of Israel.”

No, they don’t. They don’t even come close. The Hebrew means “the God of angel armies,” “the God of the armies who fight for his people.” The God who is at war. Does “Lord Almighty” convey “the God who is at war”? Not to me, it doesn’t. Not to anyone I’ve asked. It sounds like “the God who is up there but still in charge.” Powerful, in control. The God of angel armies sounds like the one who would roll up his sleeves, take up sword and shield to break down gates of bronze, and cut through bars of iron to rescue me.

(John Eldredge, Waking the Dead , 160)

I like it!

I mean, HOT DAMN, I LIKE it! I really do struggle with this image of a VERY far away Father and a VERY discreet and secret Holy Spirit, and a VERY occupied Jesus who can't possibly make time for me. But it's just not true. The Father is desperate to be with his children, Jesus is desperate to be known by his bride, and the Holy Spirit is desperate to break through the layers of our sin so that our hearts can be alive in this dark hour.

This isn't a truth I speak out of experience, but rather one I wholeheartedly believe, and one I know the Holy Spirit is working towards and that however shamefully and weakly, I am working towards as well.

And that isn't completely true. God has been faithful to me and has given me nuggets here and there that are leading me to the fullness of this truth, Im just not there yet. And I really really want to be.

He is the God of Hosts! He is coming to break down sin to get to me! His war is on sin and his prize is me! I can't wait for the day when Jesus prevails, and the war is won. The war will be ugly and hard-fought, but he will prevail.

In this struggle, I am so weak, and so prone to caving into my desires, but my eyes on are you, Jesus. I have dove's eyes for you.