...Something to be thankful for!

I was reminded of this again this morning as Sophie and I went on her preschool tour. Yes, I said preschool. If you are wondering how that happened, let me know because I am still wondering myself. 

As I looked around the room I saw children that looked like they were completely "normal", I saw children who had obvious physical and mental challenges. Then I turned and looked at Sophie with a smile on her face, looking around checking everyone out. I saw her move about the room trying to explore the brand new places that were just waiting to be blessed by the presence of Sophie. The toys that were just waiting for Sophie to chew on because she thinks EVERYTHING goes in her mouth. (I mean everything....it was a worm last week. A REAL, LIVE, DIRTY, WORM!!)

 In that moment, I knew Sophie was going to be ok at the Porter Center.

I have been told in the past 3  years that the LISD Porter Center is one of the best Special Education schools around us. We have heard testimonies from people who have moved to this area because of the teaching and support staff at the Porter Center. Hearing this information from others is comforting to a point, but seeing Sophie in that setting, with other kids her age was more comforting than I imagined.

I have been truly struggling with the idea of Sophie starting preschool. I am sure all parents go through this. I am sure all parents are worried that their child could get hurt at school, or be left out, or have a hard time adjusting. But what all parents don't worry about is the fact that Sophie can't come home and tell me about her day. She won't be able to tell me if a teacher was mean to her, or if she got hurt, or God forbid someone abusing her. 

I am sure some people reading this think I am crazy and I shouldn't be worried about this and I would ask you to please not minimize my fears because they are real BIG fears. Imagine your child starting preschool. What fears, worries, concerns did you have? Now imagine if your child couldn't tell you about their day!

When we were taking the tour I saw a little girl crawling up the small incline on her way in to the Motor Skills Room and the teacher right along side of her, crawling with the small girl's communication device in hand going up the incline together.

In that moment I knew Sophie was going to be more than ok at the Porter Center.

Every single person we spoke with was kind, gentle, and couldn't wait to get their hands on Sophie. We even had a teacher from the older kids come in and want to meet Sophie because she had heard so much about her. When asked if Sophie is ok with strangers I smiled and said of course and they treated Sophie like one of their own. Held her, played with her, and snuggled her!

The tour continued and I was informed that because Sophie needs special care compared to some other kids, Sophie will have an extra person in whatever room she is in. She will have what they refer to as a Medical Assistant in the room. Sophie will need diaper changes, help with feeding, drinking, walking, sitting in a chair, using her communications device, etc. It blessed my heart to know that Sophie would have all this extra help, just for her. Just to keep her safe!

In that moment, I knew I was going to be ok with Sophie going to the Porter Center.

I am thankful for the wonderful experience we have had with the LISD, Early On, The On My Way Toddler Group and all of Sophie's therapists, teachers and support staff. As we get ready to transition Sophie to preschool, where Dan or I won't be there, we are going to remain thankful for the experiences we have had and will continue to have with the LISD.

To keep me accountable I have compiled a list of what I will choose to be thankful for on this not so simple road we are on:

I choose to be thankful for Sophie's communications device.

I choose to be thankful for the wheelchair/Stroller that we will have for Sophie to be safe. 

I choose to be thankful for the Medical Assistant to be in whatever room Sophie is in to give her the additional attention she needs.

I choose to be thankful for the amazing team behind us every single step of the way and the promises that we have in them not giving up on us, but more importantly, on Sophie.

I choose to be thankful that a place such as the Porter Center exists so that my daughter can get the education she deserves and needs!

This isn't going to be easy for me or for Dan, but I am choosing to remain THANKFUL!

Why Not Me?

I was sitting in a room full of beautiful mom's and one dad last night listening as we poured out our hearts on the very unique grief journey that we are facing, or have faced. My heart is still heavy today as I replay the stories of a few moms in that room. I know we aren't supposed to take home the stories of other moms, but this was a particularly difficult night. Maybe it is because we are approaching our 5 year mark since delivering Denton and Quinton, maybe it is because we are in the midst of Holy Week, maybe it was because of the blood moon? Whatever the reason, I am thankful. Thankful to be blessed by each person represented in that room, each baby that will never be forgotten, each tear stained face. Today, I am thankful!

I have heard many people use the words "Why Me" when speaking of trials and tribulations that go on in their lives. I have used those words as well and have never thought twice about the impact they serve. Why Me, has recently changed for me to Why Not Me?

I have really thought about what it meant for me to utter the words, why me. Do I really think that I am so different from every other person on this planet that bad things shouldn't happen to me and my family? Do I think I am special enough, christian enough, good enough to avoid the hardships of life? Am I somehow untouchable when it comes to crappy hands being dealt out in life? This may come as a surprise to many of you, but NO, I am not any of those things when it comes to how this life here on earth is being played out. I am just the same as you, just the same as the millionaire across the country.

I was sharing last month with some ladies in my Tiny Purpose group and we discussed that the loss of a child is something that we wouldn't wish on anyone, not even on the person who we can't stand the sight of. For me, I feel when I say, Why Me, I am saying why can't someone else experience the loss of a child/children instead of me. Why can't someone else have a handicap child instead of me. How can I wish that on someone else? I can't and therefore I have changed the way I think about it. Last month I finally said it out loud in the presence of other moms and dads that have gone though the loss of a child and it was liberating!

Now we are in Holy Week and here I am again thinking of the words Why Me! Jesus died on the cross for me, for you, for all of humanity. What did I do to deserve this? Nothing, I didn't have to do anything for Jesus to die on the cross for me and I am completely humbled and in awe of that fact. Even if I was the only person on this earth, He still would have died on the cross for me! Closing my eyes and envisioning Jesus on the cross brings tears to my eyes. His pain, His suffering all because He loves me!

The pain of losing a child is a pain that I can't even being to describe using the adjectives we have as part of the English language. It is something that NO ONE should ever have to experience. Having a child with special needs is something that I wish didn't have to exist in this life at all. And to think that when I suffer and when I hurt, Jesus hurts too because He loves my babies even more than I do!

So, Why Not Me?

Be Bold

Eyes are closed, I'm standing, swaying back and forth to the music that is slowly coming to an end. The praise team leads in to another song of worship. My hearts starts beating faster, I can feel the tears start to dampen my cheek bones and make their way down my face until they form a perfectly little drop that rolls off of my jaw line. I begin to sing along.

The splendor of a King, clothed in majesty
Let all the earth rejoice
All the earth rejoice

He wraps himself in Light, and darkness tries to hide
And trembles at His voice
Trembles at His voice

How great is our God, sing with me
How great is our God, and all will see
How great, how great is our God

Age to age He stands
And time is in His hands
Beginning and the end
Beginning and the end

The Godhead Three in One
Father Spirit Son
The Lion and the Lamb
The Lion and the Lamb

Name above all names
Worthy of our praise
My heart will sing
How great is our God

How great is our God, sing with me
How great is our God, and all will see
How great, how great is our God


 I don't know about you but when I walk in to church and see that we will be partaking in communion I instantly know that we are going to have a good service. A good service usually entails that we are going to be in the presence of God. Being in the presence of God isn't something that is extremely comfortable at all times. Comforting, yes. Comfortable, not always. So as I am worshiping all I can do is sing and let the tears fall. I couldn't do anything else. 

Next we go in to a time of prayer. The room was surrounded with people who were ready to pray for you, for whatever you needed. As I sit down in my seat, I am silent. All of a sudden, it is revealed to me that I need to increase my faith in Him. I am more aware at that moment than any other time that I am much more demanding in my prayers when it comes to praying for other people than I am when I am praying for something I need, or my family needs. My heart starts to race, my breathing gets heavy and I start to sob. How is it that I can believe God is going to heal others, give them the desiers of their hearts that I pray for, but not my daughter? That is what it boiled down to. I was unable to move, I was just stopped, taking up permanent residence in my seat. As my friend Renee took my daughter up to be prayed for, I still couldn't move. I knew they were praying for healing over her heart and for that I am thankful.

I left church  yesterday knowing that I have some work to do. If I can believe for others then I need to start believing for myself. Not just saying I believe it, but really believing it. I have seen miracles happen, I have heard testimony of sickness being removed from lives without explanation from doctors. I know God heals. But why it so hard for me to know that same truth when it comes to my prayers for Sophie? 

There is my heart, out on a platter for you. I am asking for you to pray for me. That I may feel the Lord working on my heart. That I too, will pray just as boldly for my daughter's healing as I do for other people.

Beauty From Ashes

It is with a heavy heart that I sit and type out my thoughts this morning. I have so many of them going though my mind and part of me doesn't even know where to begin. The other part of me is telling me exactly where I need to begin. As I pray for Heather and her family as she awaits the birth of her 21 week old baby, I can't help but remember the birth of my sweet Denton and Quinton. As I try to think of things I could say to comfort her, I am silenced and in the silence I am reminded of the beautiful life my son's had. Short yes, beautiful nonetheless. 

It was a cold day in February 2009 when my body knew something wasn't as it once was. I was at work and I decided to buy a pregnancy test on my lunch. Who does this at work? I went to the bathroom, peed on the test and waited 2 minutes, just like the directions said. I had never taken one before and I knew I didn't want to screw this up! After what felt like an eternity of waiting I looked at the test, held my breath and bam....it was blank. There was absolutely nothing on the little rectangular window. How did I screw this up is what was going through my mind. Because I didn't want anyone to see what I had been doing I took the test and wrapped it in toilet paper, put it in my pocket and transferred it to my purse. I don't know what possessed me to look at the test again but I did, about 15 minutes later and there was a pretty pink + sign. Could it be? Really? It must be a fluke because if I was really pregnant then it would have come up after the 2 minutes. I wasn't convinced so I left work, went to the drug store and purchased a 2 pack of the First Response pregnancy test. I went to the same bathroom and followed the same instructions. Before I could even bring the test up to eye level after peeing on it, there was another pretty pink + sign. One would think that would have been enough to convince me but let me tell you this, over the first 8-10 weeks before my first doctor's appointment, I bought 10 tests. Yes, 10!

The first few weeks went by and Dan and I were still trying to process that I was pregnant. We weren't married so I had an overwhelming feeling of guilt. I let God down, is what I thought. I let my parents down also, is what I told myself. None of that was true by the way. Just still thoughts that the devil tried putting in my mind. God and my parents still loved me and they were going to love this baby; more than likely more than they loved me! :)

At the first doctor's appointment I was so overwhelmed with all of the information they were feeding us. Dan had been through this before but it was a first for me. The paperwork they give you for "reading material"....enough said! Then came the cold wand they put a rubber glove over and then I was able to see our baby for the first time. I was instantly in love. More in love with Dan at that point as well. It was estimated that I was about 9 weeks long and we could see the heart beating so strong.

The days and weeks continued and I started to show. At that point I decided it was time to announce to our parents that we were pregnant. Everyone was so happy and tears of joy were shed. I remember making the phone call to my dad and I was so scared to tell him because I didn't want him to be disappointed in me. Guess what, he wasn't! 

As the pregnancy continued I did everything right. I stopped smoking (yes, I was smoking cigarettes. Gross, I know!) I stopped drinking caffeinated beverages. I took my prenatal vitamins and ate healthy, ummmm.....healthier!  Everything was perfect. I was around 17 weeks pregnant and I felt the first movement. Dan, Shane and I were outside and I felt the little flutter on the left front side of my belly. It was the creepiest yet most exciting feeling I had ever experienced. It came, it went, I cried.

Then comes the 20 week U/S on Monday, June 1st. For us, it was 21 weeks due to scheduling. My bladder was full, my heart was beating so fast that I honestly thought it was going to explode, and then they called my name. We made our way down the long hallway to 1 of 2 U/S rooms. It was the room on the left, the room I will never step foot in again! As the tech started the u/s Dan was holding his breath because he was hoping for a boy. The tech said we were having a boy and we were so happy. As the appointment continued Dan thought he saw her put 2 in the field that asked how many fetuses. The tech told him it was just one but it was something they needed to do just for paperwork. Dan asked 2 other times if it was just one baby and they told him yes. The techs left the room to make sure they had all the pictures they needed and were going to show them to the radiologist. Dan left to go take Shane his book bag at school. We were all in a hurry that morning. I was sitting in the room alone for what felt like an eternity. 

The door opens and in walks the 2 techs and the radiologist. Without any warning the radiologist tells me that I was pregnant with twins but one was developing as a tissue and that I was to go to my doctor right away, she was waiting for me. The room went white. Honestly, white. I could hear their voices but I couldn't make out what they were saying. I thought my heart was racing before, it was nothing compared to what it was at that point in time. I left the hospital and started calling Dan. He wasn't answering. "Why in the hell wasn't he answering", is what I was yelling. I called my mom. I sobbed as I told her what was happening and that I couldn't get a hold of Dan. I went home, Dan wasn't there. I don't know what it was but I turned my car out of my driveway and went to his buddy's house and there was Dan's car. I ran up to the door, didn't even knock and told him we had to go. He could see that I had been crying. As we are walking towards my car I tell him what is going on. He was totally caught off guard. His excitement of having a baby boy had turned in to fear of the unknown, confusion of having twins, and sadness that I was hurting and he couldn't do anything about it.

The next few days were filled with appointments. I saw my OB, a High Risk OB and then my OB again. I was asked to  have an abortion, let nature take it's course, or have surgery to help the healthy twin have a chance at life. Dan and I chose for me to go to Cincinnati to have surgery. I was put on bed rest and awaited surgery. Surgery was scheduled and I was to be in Cincinnati in 2 weeks. My mom flew in from Colorado because we thought surgery would be sooner. My parents from Hillsdale came in to spend time with us and we were just surrounded by family.

Sunday morning, June 7th I woke up to a quarter sized blood spot. Dan rushed me to the hospital where they did a bedside u/s and saw that my babies were still alive. They checked everything out on me and my cervix was still closed. I was sent home with the understanding that I was to be taken to Cincinnati the next morning.Dan got me home, I rested and ate a little bit. I woke up and had to pee every couple of minutes. I was peeing myself, so I thought. This went on for a few hours and Dan finally said "Are you going to let me take you to the hospital now?" I agreed. On the way to the hospital I had 7 contractions in a 5 minute drive.My contractions were back to back. 

I will spare you the other details but I was finally admitted to the hospital once my water broke. The moment that happened I started sobbing uncontrollably. I knew what it meant. Dan told me it was going to be ok. No it isn't, I yelled at him. The nurses tried to comfort me by telling me that maybe it was only one sac that ruptured. I knew better. Dan asked me not to look because the amount of fluid and blood that came out of my body he said looked like a scene from a horror movie.

Labor continued. Family was in the room with me and they were freezing. Apparently, I needed my room to be sub zero temperatures. Sorry guys! Monday, June 8th in the wee hours of the morning I gave birth to Quinton first. He was rushed out of the room because of his physical appearance. I never got to hold him, touch him, see him for myself. I could only stroke his body with my finger pressed up against the glossy finish of a 4x6 picture. A few minutes later Denton was born. He was born not breathing but he had a heart beat. My doctor asked me to hold him and I refused. That is the ugly truth. Before you judge me and shake you head and ask yourself how could a mother refuse to hold her own baby, know that it took everything I had to go through the cruel and unusual punishment of laboring them knowing that they wouldn't survive. Kind of puts you in a dark mental place. Dan held Denton and he and my doctor urged me to hold him. I am so thankful they did. I held Denton in my arms. His tiny little, perfect little body was in my arms. He looked so perfectly formed at only 21 weeks 3 days. He looked like his brother, Shane. He had a crooked little pinky finger, just like the Stegg boys (His daddy, brother and Uncle Andrew). He had the start of a uni-brow, just like his daddy and brother. I am so thankful I was able to hold him because I can still remember the color of his skin, the perfectly formed body, the peaceful look on his face as his heart stopped beating while still in my arms.

The next few months were hell. Absolute hell. I would wake up in the middle of the night and sob. I would do it in hiding because I didn't want to make Dan sad with my sobbing. I didn't know it at the time but he knew I was doing it because he heard me. I was so sad. So heartbroken. I was lost. I was pissed off at the world, angry, and full of grief. I didn't know then that today I would be able to sit here and type this out without being sad. I didn't think it was possible. I thought that I would have been that way forever. It got better, it still gets better every single day. Today, I am thankful!

So, Heather, I offer you this. I am praying for you. I know that this is hell for you right now, in this very moment. I know that you would give your own life just to have your baby's life spared. I know that your heart is in your throat, but it will soon find its way back to the spot it belongs. I know that you feel like life won't ever be the same, and you are right. A piece of you is gone and you will never get it back. As ugly of a time that it is right now, there is beauty in the life your baby brought. Beauty in the strength that you will dig deep inside to find just to get out of bed in the morning to take care of your beautiful daughter at home. Beauty in the love that will grow even stronger between you and your husband. Beauty from Ashes my friend!

I Serve a God of Love

"I feel like God hates me" she said. "And for the life of me I can't figure out why. I'm constantly helping people. I barely ever put myself first" she said. Those words have been tugging at my heart strings for the past 2 weeks. My heart breaks for her. All she wants is to have another baby. To be with child, to experience the miracle of life as she has experienced if before.

This is a hard one for people to understand. To ask why this desires of our hearts aren't being granted or to think that our prayers aren't being answered. Even as Christians, people still struggle with this. The question I often hear asked, even by family members, is "If God is so Good, then when did He let.... happen?" We could fill in the blanks with that one and the list would be never ending. I told my friend, that I referenced above, that I didn't have the answers for her but that I knew God isn't evil and He isn't the one causing her not to get pregnant. After thinking about it, searching my heart, discussions with others that I hold in high regard, consulting the word, I have come up with this answer for her, and for all of us. This is something that I have struggled with in regards to Denton and Quinton dying and Sophie having so many complications so it is a healing process for me as well. Sort of an acceptance.

In the beginning God created Adam and Eve. We all know the story of how Adam and Eve were in the garden and they were told they could have anything and everything in the garden to eat....except this one tree. They were told not to touch it or they would die.

Genesis 2:15-17

¹⁵ The Lord God took the man and put him in the Garden of Eden to work it and take care of it. ¹⁶ And the Lord God commanded the man, “You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; ¹⁷ but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.”
   
Genesis also goes on to tell us that the serpent was more crafty then any of the animals the Lord had made and he came to Eve and told her she could be like God, to know good and evil, if she took from the tree. The devil tempted her and she fell to the pressure. The moment Eve took from the tree and shared with her husband is when sin entered in to the World. Before that God made everything perfect, without sin. He even made man in his OWN image. That means that man was NOT sinful when he was first created!

The moment we allowed sin to enter the world in the moment when we gave the devil, the serpent, dominion over the Earth. We allowed him in and decided to push God out. God didn't have the power to cause bad things even if that was His character because this was the devils land now. We invited him in to stay. If we know that the devil is the bad one, the evil one, the one who comes to lie, steal and kill, then why do we still blame God for all of our problems?

One "trend" that I have witnessed is that many people want to claim they don't believe in God, but the moment something goes wrong they blame Him! Did you know it takes more faith to be an atheist than to actually believe in God? An example of that is my brother. He claims that he doesn't believe God exists because if he did then why does He let all this bad stuff happen? That is the mindset many people have developed. I see people blaming God for the bad, but when something good happens they declare themselves "self made men", or "I did this all on my own. Just me. No one else." I don't see people praising God in the good times as much as I see them blaming him in the bad. We can't expect God to perform miracles in our lives if we are stagnate in our faith, or wavering in our faith. We can't expect God to perform a miracle in our life if we aren't spending the time seeking Him, asking Him, and truly believing that it will happen.

Four months ago Sophie had a heart doctor appointment. In the months leading up to that appointment I was truly convinced that Sophie would go in to the appointment and the doctor would be amazed because her heart was healed. That Dr. Butto would say that we didn't have to come back as often anymore because Sophie was fine. With every fiber I believed that this is what was going to transpire. When I spoke to Dan on the phone after he got out of the appointment I was devastated because that wasn't what took place. My heart was completely broken. I felt I had been let down by God and I didn't understand. I made the phone calls I needed to make and I was reminded during one of the calls that God isn't finished. That we have 4 more months to pray and believe that God is going to heal her. Four months was when Dr. Butto wanted to see Sophie again to discuss another heart cath. I wasn't accepting this to be truth. So, for the past four months people have been praying and believing that Sophie will NOT have to have this heart cath. We go back to the doctor on Friday.

 I share all of this with you because I have felt before that God hated me too. That it isn't fair that I have had to walk to journey that I have with my children. We did everything right, we did everything we were supposed to. I am a good person. I believe God sent his son to die for me on the cross and I believe that if I were the only person in this world, that He would have sent Him just for me then. With that said, I still don't blame God. I blame the devil. I blame that piece of garbage because he is the one who has dominion over the earth. He is the one who we let him to cause harm, to kill and to destroy. He is the one who makes bad things happen to good people, NOT God. God's heartbreaks when our heart breaks. God is sad when I am sad. God also gives us free will. We are allowed to make choices in our lives that aren't necessarily good for us, but we still make them. Do we ever ask ourselves what we are doing wrong? That answer would be that we aren't drawing near enough to God. 

I know this is a wordy post. If there is anything I want you to take away from this post it would be that we serve a God of love. God isn't the one who causes bad things to happen, but He is the one that is there waiting for us to come to Him. He will ALWAYS be there, no matter what. Just because we don't have what our hearts desire in this very moment, doesn't mean we won't ever get it. Don't blame God when things go wrong, rejoice in Him knowing that He will make beauty from ashes!

"If I Could Write A Letter"

Monday night I was blessed sit in a room with the bravest men and women I have ever met. Moms and dads that are able to take their pain of losing a child and be transparent in the midst of strangers. Moms and dads who have taken their darkest days and turned them in to shining beacons of hope. As I was sitting there listening to and sharing with other families on our losses, I was able to learn quite a bit about what I should have done to help me through the grieving process. I believe that I did a lot of work to accomplish the healing that has taken place. I still hurt, I miss my sons ever single day, and there are times that I am really sad. Most days though are normal days going through the motions of life. Only those who has experienced such pain can experience the joy that comes in the morning! A woman that I consider a friend of mine shared a letter that she wrote to her family after the loss of her baby. I was amazed at her strength and that is what has prompted this post today. This may be 4.5 years too late, but this is what I wish I would have said to friends and family after the loss of Denton and Quinton.

         Dear Friends and Family that I love so much. As you know the loss of Denton and Quinton has been extremely hard on me, on us. As we are trying to process everything I pray that you will be patient with us. Not only are we dealing with the loss of our two sons, we are also trying to help our older son grieve the loss of his mother at the same time. I guess what I am trying to say is that we have a lot on our plate right now and we need time. Time to grieve in the ways that we want and need to grieve, time to be selfish, time to avoid other people that are having babies, and time just for ourselves. Individually, as husband and wife, and as parents of a living son and parents of twins that died. 

       I want to take this opportunity to share with you how I am feeling and this may help you when you are dealing with me on a regular basis. First, I am not the same Ashley that I was on June 1st. June 1st changed my life when I was told I was not pregnant with one baby, but two and that one of them wasn't developing. Then June 2nd came, and it changed my life again. Never in a million years did I ever think that I was going to be asked to have an abortion, by a doctor at that! Never did I think that I was going to have to pick one baby over the other. Then June 7th came, and once again my life changed. My body decided that it was time to have my babies, although my babies weren't ready to be born. I felt like my life was over at the very moment my water broke and I knew Denton and Quinton were coming, no matter what. Then June 8th came and so did the boys. My boys were born and died on June 8th and part of me died right along with them. As you can see, my life was turned up side down within a week's time frame. As you can see, I didn't have a lot of time to process it during that week, so now I am asking that you grant me this time to process and grieve.

      Along with time, I am asking that you be kind to us. Be kind with your words, your thoughts, and your expectations. You may be wondering what I am meaning by this, so here it goes. Remember, be kind! When I don't answer your phone call, it is because I really am not in the mood to talk to you. Not because I don't love you, but because I am hurting and I can't handle your wants and needs at this time. When I don't get excited that others are pregnant, please don't call me out on it because I physically, emotionally and mentally can't muster up that excitement. It just isn't possible, and honestly, I don't want to. When I run out of the room when a baby enters the room, don't be mad. Be kind! Remember that I should have two babies still inside my body and when I see someone with a baby, my heart breaks again. The pain I feel is the same pain I imagine William Wallace felt when his insides were being ripped out of his body little by little. When I am in a bad mood on Mondays, please know that June 1st and June 8th were both Mondays. I need you to be kind to me because I feel the world hasn't been, and either has God.

      Please know that I am going to be moody. I am going to be sad. I am going to be pissed off. I am going to cry....a lot. I am going to do it at home, at the office, in public, in the middle of the night. I am probably a little depressed but don't assume I have to take medication to cope. Don't shy away from me because I can't control my emotions. Please, I ask this of you, if you are going to remember my sons first birthday, please remember their 4th and 5th as well. I need for you to remember them. Some of you were able to hold my babies in your arms, so you know they were here. They existed, they are a part of Dan and I. I need you to count them when you count how many grandchildren you have. Denton and Quinton mattered, they still matter!

      I am not sharing all of this with you to upset anyone, or to make anyone uncomfortable. I am sharing with you because I am in a vulnerable state and the last thing I want to do is push anyone away. I don't want to alienate anyone purposely, but it may happen. I have already lost my sons, I don't want to lose you too.

      Thank you for supporting Dan, Shane and I through this dark storm. As we navigate through the blistering winds that come and knock us off our feet, we are thankful that we will have you there to pick us up, because right now it takes everything I have to get out of bed in the morning. Who am I kidding, some times I don't get out until late morning! We love you and thank you for loving us.


This is the letter I wish I had the strength to write after my sons died. This explains truly how I felt at that time. I will be honest, relationships suffered. Friends didn't acknowledge the fact that my sons died. Family thought we were the ones causing pain to them. Maybe if I would have been brave enough in the beginning, none of that would have happened. I could have given each person that mattered to me a a map of every single move they should have made around me and I didn't. Not all relationships were strained, but some were. It happens. It is life. Death isn't easy for anyone, but the death of your child I believe is the absolute worst pain anyone could ever feel in their entire life. I felt that pain for a long time, but I wouldn't share it with anyone. Not even my husband at times. I felt my grief was so personal to me that I couldn't share it because no one would understand. I can stand here today and say with certainty that I am not in the same place I was 4.5 years ago. I have tackled the barricades head on to come out stronger on the other side. I have never been one to back down, but the day my children died, and the days that followed, I felt I had surrendered and was losing the fight. One day I woke up. I can't tell you what made me realize that I had to fight to get back to a health place, but I did it. I encourage anyone who needs to grieve, to do so. Give yourself permission. Write a letter to friends and family if needed. Typing this out now, was still healing. Don't wait if you don't have to!

Watering the Flowers

A man (he can be Asian, Korean, Hispanic, Anglo, Black, whatever you prefer) went down to the river every single day to get water. He had 2 buckets. One bucket was shinny, beautiful, not a single imperfection on it. The other bucket was cracked, full of blemishes and leaked water. How can this bucket still be useful for the purpose of carrying water? One day while the man was getting his water he overheard the buckets talking to one another. The old, rusty leaking bucket was complaining because he didn't look like the shinny new bucket. The bucket didn't understand it's value. It was concerned that it didn't serve a purpose anymore because it wasn't as "good" as the other bucket. As the bickering continued between the two buckets the old man interrupted and begged the old bucket to see it's purpose. The man said "Do you see all of these beautiful flowers on your side that lead all the way up to the palace? Do you see that they are only on your side, and not the side of the other bucket?" The old bucket was speechless. The old man, saddened by the fact that the old bucket didn't feel valuable, pleaded with the old bucket. He told the bucket, "I only planted the flowers on your side because I knew you leaked water and every single day on our way back up to the palace, I knew you would be watering them. Can't you see how beautiful they are, because of you?" 

Kids, the moral of this little parable, that was shared with me by a friend, reminds me of Sophie and how imperfectly perfect she truly is. From the outside Sophie looks perfect. She doesn't have a single blemish. Some of the physical characteristics, such as always smiling, wide set, deep eyes that she has because of MWS, are truly beautiful physical characteristics  for her to  have. From the outside, one wouldn't know that Sophie is incomplete on the inside. It is true, Sophie doesn't serve the same purpose as me. Her purpose in this life isn't to be "fruitful and multiply" by the standards God set for us. Her purpose isn't to go to work every single day and make a difference in the job she performs. Sophie's purpose is much bigger, much more spectacular!

Sophie is changing lives my friends. For those of you that have been blessed to be in the presence of Sophie, you can attest to the fact that she is truly a special little girl. Not special as in special needs, but special because God is using her to transform our lives EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Even if you just know Sophie through my posts or my pictures, you can tell that Sophie is extraordinary. I get to wake up to a child who is up to shenanigans inside of her crib and when she is caught, she just smiles as if it wasn't her. I get to come home every single day to a child whose face lights up when she hears my voice and her eyes search the room to find me. I get to put to bed a feisty little princess who is fighting sleep, but not in the way you would think. She fights it with giggles, laughter, hitting her daddy because she wants to interact with him, all while she is rubbing her eyes because she physically needs to go to bed, but won't because she is too busy making memories for her mommy, daddy, and brother. Friends, that is my reality!

It wasn't too long ago that I was the rusty old bucket. I was the one who was complaining that my daughter wasn't as good as my friends kids. I was the one that was complaining because in 5 months my daughter will be 3 and she still isn't walking or crawling, but my niece was walking before she turned a year old. Don't misinterpret what I am saying, I was overjoyed for my sister and BIL, that my niece was walking, but there was also jealousy inside that was eating away at me like maggots on a deteriorating piece of flesh. (Nice visual, you are welcome!) I wasn't looking at  how beautiful Sophie truly is. Sophie is a miracle, no matter which way we look at it. How many of you have been told by friends that when they look at your child, they see Jesus? We have been told that countless times and it never gets old.

 My Simply Complicated, isn't so simple, but it also isn't so complicated. I am beyond thankful for where we are today with Sophie. I am beyond thankful for the different surgeries that she has had to make her a healthy little girl. I am beyond thankful for her smiles, her laughter, her babbling sounds that sounds like she is saying mama, because it is a lot more than what I had anticipated back on January 2nd, 2012 when we received the diagnosis of MWS. Sure, Sophie is full of imperfections. I mean come on, she is missing a gene on her 2nd chromosome, she has a patch on her heart to close a hole that made her quality of life a lot less than what it is now, she has 6" less of a colon than she is supposed to, and a beautiful scar in the middle of her chest reminding me that I have so much to be thankful for. Sophie IS like the broken bucket because she is truly making this world a more beautiful place because God has used her imperfections to water the flowers!

**Thank you friend for sharing this story you heard with me this morning. I thank God for you!