A Thousand Words

It is said that a picture paints a thousand words. How many words can I find that go along with this picture?

Joy. Contentment. Relief. Love. Delight. Elation. Jubilance. Comfort. Peace. Pleasure. Gladness.

At last, my baby...my daughter and her husband have come home with their son, Cyrus Jones. My grandson. The moment I saw this picture my heart felt relief. A thousand words.

Over the last 17 days my emotions have traveled to places I have never experienced before.

My friend, Abigail Rine, wrote on her blog the words that perfectly expressed what my heart was feeling:

"Being a mother is like living with your heart outside of your chest. You have tethered it to another impossibly fragile life, and there is a wound leftover, a hole that will never heal."

The fragile lives I have tethered my heart to are Brenna, Kalie and Jesse. Seventeen days ago my heart wound extended to Kalie's son. The hole in my heart throbbed. Each day, being separated during this time of uncertainty, the distance between Portland and Seattle, was as vast as the deepest part of the ocean.

Kalie faithfully kept me current on the daily reports of her son's progress. Each day brought more good news about his progress. Despite a diagnosis of Cystic Fibrosis, the most urgent concern was his recovery from surgery for an intestinal blockage.

When I couldn't face another unknown moment, I prayed. My husband comforted me...we both ached for our daughter and son-in-law. Prayers from friends and family sustained us all. Our hearts were heavy at the thought of Cyrus being in the hospital. Our hearts were comforted by the fact that he was in good hands, loved by his caregivers, beholden by his parents. He had so much going for him.

Perspective kept me expressing gratitude. During the first days after Cyrus's surgery we were painfully aware that our little grandson was one of the lucky ones. Born healthy, he was a strapping 8 pounds in a NICU of much smaller infants.

Our heartache is not be diminished by this perspective. God's love transcends what our minds can comprehend. I believe that perspective keeps us humble but does not change the fact that God gives us comfort in our own heartache.

Much of what I have experienced over the last 17 days further confirms that God loves me. From getting to Seattle in time to witness the birth of my first grandson, to the fact that as I write this my three children are together, with the newest member of our family, celebrating my own son's 23rd birthday. On one hand my heart longs to be with them. On the other hand my heart is full of joy knowing that my children love each other enough for Kalie and Aaron, just arriving home from an emotional journey, to host Brenna and Jesse for dinner in celebration of birth.

Joy. Contentment. Relief. Love. Delight. Elation. Jubilance. Comfort. Peace. Pleasure. Gladness.

When I gaze into the face of my daughter in this picture my heart can hardly contain all that I feel. The heart that beats for my children now extends to my grandson. I share the emotions found on Kalie's face, emotions welled up from her heart and poured over into her son.

Now my daughter is a mother who is living with her heart outside of her chest. She has tethered it to another impossibly fragile life, and there is a wound leftover, a hole that will never heal.

Poop.

I've never prayed so much for bowel movements. And now I am praying for a desire for a breast. What grandma wouldn't do that for her grandson?

At the end of Cyrus' second day alive grandpa and I noticed something to be concerned about. We didn't say anything because Kalie and the other nurses were noticing too. The faces this precious child is making look pained. I thought to myself "It looks like his little tummy hurts." The picture that Wade took confirmed this to me.

So at the end of day three X-rays were taken, a contrast done (shooting dye up his little bum to compare the two x-rays with). They found the reason this precious boy was making those faces. Indeed his tummy did hurt. He couldn't poop. He had a blockage in his intestine and would need to have surgery.

On Cyrus' fourth day of life Dr. Proctor cut an incision under his still corded belly button, removed his colon...all several feet of it, found the blockage, pushed the dried meconium through his colon, sewed him back up and waited for him to poop.

We were told he filled 5 diapers. And he hasn't quit pooping since. Which is what we have feverishly been praying for him to do. Each day was a milestone. He kept on pooping till they allowed him to finally have another bit of Kalie's milk that SHE had been feverishly pumping.

Within the first hour of his birth he ate very well. Turns out he liked the breast. Early on however, with every drop of milk he sucked from his mother's breast his clogged bowels filled up and had no place to go, thus the painful expressions on his face on his second day of birth.

Wade and I stayed around the Seattle area helping Kalie and Aaron in whatever way they needed. But soon it was evident that our presence wasn't needed. It appeared that Cyrus would be in the hospital for at least a week, more likely two.

While I know coming home was the right thing to do, I am aching on so many levels. So I pray. Constantly. For poop.

Each day brought good news. Cyrus is pooping. Peeing. Keeping food down. They increase his mother's milk intake incrementally...5 cc's each feeding, then 10 cc's, then 20, etc....

No set backs, other than Kalie and Aaron are desperate to find normal and get their son home. Yet though they are anxious to get him home, they are handling this hiccup so well. I couldn't be prouder of them.

Day nine a new prayer request. "Please God, help Cyrus desire to nurse from Kalie's breast. Oh, and please let him keep pooping."

Tests are being run to see what caused the blockage. We've all been told what the diagnosis may be. While there may be a difficult road to walk, none of the likely possibilities are too concerning. Thankfully we live in a day and age, and a place in the world where excellent medical care is available.

Praying for poop, well, it's something we all do! Pooping I mean.

I believe as I write this Cyrus is three days away from getting to go home with his mom and dad.

He's done so well at recovering from his surgery. He's pooping and peeing as he should. He's starting to desire his mother's breast, he's smiling, swinging, getting his hair styled.

God's been faithful. He's answered our prayers. Starting with prayers for poop.

Like I said, grandma's will do anything for their grandchildren. I can hardly wait to change his poopy diaper.

Joy Complete - thoughts on becoming a grandma.

Grandparents. My 'older' friends have been telling me for years that the only reason you have children is so you can have grandchildren.

Grandparents. I am told that you can spoil grandchildren and when the results of that spoilage makes their presence unbearable you can return them to their rightful owners.

Grandparents have a do-over with their grandkids.

Just Google "grandparent quotes" to find all the trite and adorable reasons that being a grandparent is one of the best things on earth.

The funny thing about life is that others often interpret experiences for you. As you share similar experiences you begin to realize that your view may be vastly different.

Of course I have thought about being a grandmother...and my husband being a grandpa. Honestly I hope my little grandson calls me something other than grandma. I like Nana Boo.

I don't have years of experience at this grandma thing. Truth be told, as I write this I haven't been a grandma for even 1 day. But I don't need anyone else to tell me what I have seen and what I feel in my heart.

From that day in August when Kalie and Aaron told us they were expecting, my emotions have been pretty even keel. Sure, I've been excited. But I determined to put on my granny pants and not go overboard...too soon.

My actions were tempered. Since the parents decided to keep the gender hidden from everyone but the ultrasound technologist, spending a small fortune on clothes before the birth didn't seem prudent. I focused my time on considering ways to make life long memories for my grandchild, for my little sweet pea.

Two lovely baby showers and still my emotions were in check. Each event I breathed in the experiences and held them close to my heart.

As Kalie's belly grew so did my tempered enthusiasm. Not a day went by (especially if I was with my mom) that I wasn't asked "Are you excited about being a grandmother?" Of course. But what does that really mean? Being a grandmother?

Kalie and Aaron invited me to be at the baby's birth. This birthing process is something that is very important to me. Since I had two home births (Brenna and Kalie) and Jesse was born in a clinic in PNG, as a young mom I did a lot of research into giving birth. Several family members and friends were in attendance at my own births so having the opportunity to witness this miracle was very important to me. My invitation was a gift and I am thankful beyond words. Kalie is a labor and delivery nurse....she's in the business of delivering babies. (Which by the way, must add an interesting dynamic to the lovely ladies who work at Swedish who delivered Kalie's baby yesterday.)

In the days leading to Kalie's due date I grew increasingly agitated...at least inwardly. The biggest thing for me was the drive to Seattle. I knew that depending upon the time of day it could be a disaster in making it to the birth on time.

Now don't worry, I am not going to give you a moment-by-moment account of the events surrounding the birth but here's a little insight to the day.

As I look back, each step, each decision was perfectly planned. From the phone call from Erin (Kalie's doula and friend) at 11 pm on Monday, April 8th, to each decision by Kalie and Aaron from that point on.

But this grandparent gig. I still don't think it has completely hit me. I deeply love my children..have from conception. Even now they continually amaze and bless me.

Children can become the best parts of their parents. Then what do we say about our grandchildren?

When little Cyrus was born a whole new world burst open for me. I could barely restrain myself from reaching for him still covered in vernix. As his arms and legs stretched out and sweet cries came from his mouth, being a bystander in this moment was difficult.

Once again, tempering my emotions, I kept my cool. As I gazed upon the flurry of activity surrounding the mom, my daughter, who had just delivered my grandson, completely natural, no drugs, my heart swelled with pride and my mind raced to how this tiny little man was going to forever change my family's life. We have a grandson, a nephew, a son.

So I am new at this grandma gig. Today we will welcome him into his parent's home, share some time with his other grandparents, watch them marvel at this little wonder.

Tomorrow and the next day, to infinity and beyond, this little man, Cyrus J. McNelly, and I will together get this grandma thing down. I am pretty sure it will come naturally. And no doubt before too long, I'll believe that what my 'older' friends have been telling me about grandchildren is true.

The reason we have children......

My friend Patty has been telling me for years that the reason we have children is so we can have grandchildren. I've been hearing that phrase long before my kids were child bearing age. (Patty is several years my senior.) Last August Kalie and Aaron announced to us that Wade and I would finally become members of the grandparent club. We are now down to the last weeks of waiting to meet our precious sweet pea. We get to be surprised at the birth as to which gender it will be. There are times when the whole thing seems surreal. I haven't gotten carried away....yet. I have a new chest in my living room beginning to fill with toys. I have great plans for this little one....coming to Nana Boo's house will always be so much fun. Wade is giddy with excitement. He's gona be a blubbering grandpa. He can't decide if he wants to be called papa or grandpa. Or gramps. Or grumpy. Jesse will be Uncle Jesse and Brenna will be the favorite aunt. Roxy will need to love this little bairn.

Boo.....

Just like my journals sitting half empty in my bedroom bookshelf, so sits my 'blog' on the internet.

Ha! Some things never change.

Pages of my journals are filled with 'updates' from life. I don't know who I think I am writing to. I am the only one who read them.

This evening I was surfing through Facebook and I came upon my friend, Sherry Macy. She had shared a link to her blog, sharing the events from her church this evening. I took a journey through her blog to catch up with her life, since this in the way I keep in touch with her these days.

Going back in time through her life was such a treat. Not only does Sherry write about her life, she uses pictures to tell the stories as well. From church activities, to house remodeling to family gatherings, Sherry carefully crafts a story worth reading.

I wondered if I would be like her someday...with my grandchildren and family as they expand.

Discipline, that's was it takes to consistently write down your thoughts, to share your life and wisdom...humor. You also need something to say. One my say, "Sheez Jere, you ALWAYS have something to say!" True. But does anyone really care?

Maybe the point isn't for someone else to read this stuff. That's bonus! Perhaps the point of blogging is to capture our lives in a post modern way that documents our lives. I enjoy going back and reading about my life. Highs and lows of life remind me that each day is new. If the day is going badly give it 24 hours. A new day could bring a whole new perspective.

My blogging has given me some good moments, now forever (or at least as long as Google's server stays up) on the internet for the edification of those who stumbled upon it.

In the spirit of my friend, Sherry, I leave you with of few photos that document this phase in my life.

I don't have grandchildren, but I do have grandchicks. Thanks to Kalie and Aaron.


Here I am with Peggy, named so because she has a peg leg.
This is the chicken coop that Aaron built. I 'pinned' it on Pintrest! :)
And finally, Jesse was honored with an award at the Fox Film Festival - Best Art Direction for his work on the film "In Case of Zombies." We are so proud!!

It's a new year with new possiblilites

That week between Christmas and New Years always freaks me out. It's like there is something that needs to happen that changes everything. Maybe that feeling comes from the whole Y2K thing or memories of something from childhood. Maybe it is the knowledge that we have to get our taxes filed.

Either way, I tend to feel a sense of dread.

For the past 53 years nothing out of the ordinary happens. I wake up January 1 to face a holiday of some sorts. It is usually spent cleaning house and getting ready for the work week.

This year was no exception. There is a sense of disappointment at the coming of the 2012 new year. I think we were promised in several movies from the 70's that we would be driving around in the air by 2012. Our mode of transportation would be something right out of 2010 space odyssey. Heck, we aren't even CLOSE to that!

Despite the new and old disappointments, I want to wish my friends a happy new year. Who knows? Maybe the flying car is just around the corner!

Christmas

One day I hope to understand my dilemma about Christmas. Not the original Christmas. The one we celebrate today in modern times.

Many people share my feelings about the Christmas of today. It starts now before October 31 and rolls right over us like Santa's sleigh through November and on into December.

My aversion of Christmas isn't just about the commercialism. While I love the lights and the beauty of the holiday, there is just something about the holiday that puts me in a grinchy mood.

Let's start with the tree. I do NOT like the bushy Douglas Fir trees that other members of my family prefer. I like a spindly Noble Fir. Each year no one remembers what my favorite tree is. I am not blaming any one person, because truth be told if it was that important to me I guess I should go get it myself.

But my reluctance to fall hard into Christmas comes from somewhere deeper: a darker place. Childhood disappointments? Regrets?

Favorite favorite memories from my entire life revolve around Christmas. My oldest daughter, Brenna, was born on December 11th. (I'd say the year but she's already pretty broken up about turning 27 this year.) I'll never forget the moment about 3 days after her birth, walking into the living room. Brenna was in the little crib next to the decorated, live, Noble Fir tree that we bought to later bury her placenta under.

The setting sun darkened the room but the glow of the Christmas tree radiated on my darling daughter. This was Christmas. A perfect gift given to me.

When in Papua New Guinea our Christmas' were perfect. We got to spend the entire morning in our own home. No running around to get ready to go to Grammy's house. A lovely, peaceful Christmas dinner later in the day with friends who shared our time in a far away place.

Memories...that is what the ads on TV tell us we should be creating. I regret the lack of memories I made with my family. Things I wished I'd done but didn't. And now it's too late. Christmas regrets.

I believe it is important to look at life from different perspectives. And that is how I choose to look at Christmas. I am blessed. Christmas isn't about things, it is about the gift of Jesus. The gift of life.

As a kindergarten teacher my class put on a play called "365 Days of Christmas." It is in that perspective of Christmas where I want to live.

And as you can see in the picture above I got the perfect tree this year.