Thanksgiving Would Come, But Would I Be There?

I rarely write stories. I don't consider myself a particularly good writer, but I had the time and the story on hand so I took a stab at it (so to speak). Here's what I wrote that cold night in New York:

"Today is Tuesday November 20, 2018.

I left school promptly after an early dismissal to make my way up to Vermont for Thanksgiving break with family. Travel was going well, the car was getting good gas mileage, and I was even self-controlled and avoided eating junk food for supper. About midway through New York, snow began coming down. The snow was on and off, mostly off, so I was able to go at a steady pace for most of the trip.

Things really started to get interesting once I got on the dark and solitary back roads. They were covered with a dusting of snow at best, so I drove slowly to be safe. There were hardly any other cars out driving and only a few houses sprinkled here and there. I could imagine myself sliding off the road and freezing to death, alone. Nonetheless, I saw that I only had about 25 miles to go and thought I recognized where I going in the dark. My hopes were up!

My hopes were up, that is, until I heard the GPS tell me to take a right turn onto Boat Dock drive. I looked at the GPS and saw my projected path going east across Lake Champlain. There were no cars around so I frantically looked on my phone (in the middle of an intersection) to see if my avoid-fairies-at-all-costs setting had been turned off. The only thing I could figure was that when I reset my network settings, my smartphone wasn’t smart enough to avoid ferries at all costs.

The most logical thing for me to do besides panic seemed to be checking to find out if a ferry was indeed running. To my surprise, there was someone in the booth!

“We’re in New York, right?” I asked the lady.

After asking me if I knew where I was (with slight condescension), I asked how far around the lake the drive would be, and if the ferry was still running.

It would be a 30-mile drive to the bridge crossing, 25 miles north to the ferry dock on the other side, and 12 more miles north to Burlington (my final destination) from there.

So, in other words, I would be driving for an hour and a half more.

"Is there a ferry running tonight by chance?" I asked, skeptically.

“Yes!" she said. "There is one more running tonight at 8:30."

So here I sit on snow-covered Lane Three waiting for a ferry to come out of the inky blackness. I had a good laugh about the whole thing on the phone with my wife (who hasn’t seen me in over a week), but she didn’t join in the merriment.

I’ve been praying to be a more positive person, so here is my opportunity, just in time for Thanksgiving.

I’m thankful for a warm car, a bathroom nearby (it’s heated so I will take longer than necessary), an actually-running ferry with one last journey tonight, and the relaxing sounds of cold, dark waves lapping on the western shores of Lake Champlain.

Happy Thanksgiving!"

Why do I care for orphans? #showhopebloggers

I don't remember when I first heard about adoption or orphans.  Probably very young since my family has members who are adopted.  But it seemed amazing to me.  That love would bind you so to another human being.

We went to an Andrew Peterson "Behold the Lamb of God" concert a few years ago.  And he shared about the cause of orphans.  And he shared how not everyone is called to adopt, but everyone is called to do something, to help.

So as a Christian, I care for orphans because I am to be Jesus' hands and feet in the promise He made that He does not leave us alone or abandoned.  We are called to be a part of fulfilling that promise.  There are many ways to do that.

Here are a few.

1) Bring In Love is this crazy amazing organization that creates families from widows and orphans.  A direct fulfillment of James 1:27.



2) Show Hope is a place that creates grants for families trying to bring home an orphan.  ministry.





They also have special needs care centers where they care for orphans with special needs.  This is an amazing




3) Find a family who is trying to adopt and ask them how to help.

4) Do you know a family who has adopted?  Ask them how to support them. Just because an orphan is now in a family doesn't mean the journey is over.

I care for orphans because I am bound to them by love.  The love of Jesus and the love for a child who deserves to be in a home...to have a love so brilliant it binds them into a forever home.

What does it mean to be a child of God? #showhopeblogger

It was in high school, sophomore year when I clung to God as my Father.  Before then I had never really given it much thought that God was called "Father" in the Bible.  My Bible teacher gave us a handout with different names of God and said to mark the ones that spoke to us. "Father" was on there.  I remember wanting to call Him something personal in my devotional journalings so I called Him "Papa."  My own version of "Abba."  

To be a child of God is to have love.  Unconditional love.  To have support and strength that is not my own.  It is to have a safe haven.  To be accepted beyond my action but because I am His own child.

This month is Adoption Aid month.  I encourage you to find a way to bring home children to families.  That the human family would be an example of the heavenly family we all have.

What is one of your favorite stories of adoption? #showhopebloggers

I grew up reading and hearing adoption stories.  It thrilled my heart then, and it still thrills my heart now to hear those stories.  Yet one of my favorite stories of adoption is one that is happening right now.  One that doesn't have the "happily-ever-after" ending.  This is a story of unconditional love.  Love that loves without knowing what the end will look like.

The family I want to share about is trying to adopt from the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) but on September 25, 2013 the country issues a suspension on exit letters.  Which means that even if the adoptive families have everything else needed to take their child home, that they cannot.  The child is stuck in the DRC.

(First time the mother met her daughter.)

I remember hearing from this family that they were hoping to have their adopted daughter home by Christmas 2013, then the suspension came.   The suspension was to last a maximum of one year.  It was heartbreaking to watch this family wait. As the time got closer to a year, they and all who support them, began to hope again that soon the little girl could come home to her family.

Then on September 25, 2014 the families were told that the suspension would be indefinite.  There was no end to this waiting.  Only to hope and pray.  There are no guarantees that the suspension will ever lift.  No guarantee that they will ever be able to bring their daughter home.

So why is this my favorite story of adoption?  Because this is the heart of adoption.  It is about loving a child more than yourself and your own comfort.  It is about reaching across the miles and continents and saying, "I love you and will not stop loving you no matter what."

(The most recent visit with mother and daughter.)

There are many, many families in the same situation.  Would you take a minute and pray and sign this petition to help bring this matter to the attention of the President?  It only takes a few seconds and then you need to confirm it in your email.  Please spread the word and pray.  Pray like crazy for all the children and families that are stuck waiting.

This is my favorite adoption story because it's about unconditional love.  

Let's share in this story and bring these children home.

Nursing My Son (or how I couldn't)

I had many ideas of what motherhood would look like.  One of those ideas is that I would nurse my son.  I remember going to the birthing classes at the local hospital and having them talk about nursing. I paid attention to all the information about nursing but brushed aside the discussion of pumping and freezing/thawing milk, After all, I was going to be a stay-at-home mom and just nurse my baby.  Friends even recommended getting a few bottles in case I wanted to go out and have Matthew watch the baby.  I didn't take it seriously but bought a few anyway.

Besides, how hard could it be? It was natural right? Babies came out suckling and with skin-to-skin time I was sure everything would be fine.

Then I had an emergency cesarean.  There was no skin-to-skin time. There was no bassinet in my room.  There was a brief glance. A kiss to his sweet head. A few pictures. And then he was whisked away to the NICU.  I wouldn't get to see him for hours.  Even then I was draped in an extra hospital gown to keep germs from my baby.

I was given a hospital pump.  And I pumped. Every three hours for fifteen minutes I pumped.  No milk. Only blood from my raw skin.

I told the NICU to give my son formula.  I wasn't going to deny him food simply because I couldn't supply him with milk.  I kept trying to pump.  Around the clock. Every three hours.  Nothing.

Finally I was allowed to try and nurse my sweet Edmund.  He couldn't latch on, or I didn't know how to latch him on.  The nurse said I needed a nursing shield to help him latch because of how my body was formed.

That day my milk came in. Still, it was barely anything.

So we bought a nursing shield and I was able to nurse him on both sides for a few minutes.  I have no idea if he got anything but I felt joy at being able to nurse him.

I continued to pump.  My last pumping sessions before we were discharged from the NICU and hospital were the most profitable.  I even had my husband take a picture to remember that I actually had milk!

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So we went home, with formula and a Medela Double electric pump.  For the first week home I pumped, nursed, and did a bottle with breastmilk if I had enough and formula if I didn't.  Still, I was confident that soon I would excursively breastfeed.

From about the second week to the second month I fell into a routine where I would nurse and then pump extra so that someone else could take a feeding and let me sleep extra at least once a day.  Around two months my son began to refuse to nurse. I would position him to nurse, and he would arch back from me and cry.

If you have never experienced this, you simply cannot understand how hard that was.  I cried with him.  I couldn't figure out why he wouldn't nurse. I talked to my pediatrician and various lactation consultants.  I talked to other mother friends and researched on the internet.  I tried their suggestions.  But he refused.  So I began a new pattern.  I would try to nurse him at each feeding.  If he nursed at all, great, if not--I tried my best not to feel depressed or anxious and would give him pumped milk from the previous feeding.  Then when he was full I would pump to have enough for the next meal.

I was so discouraged.  I hated to leave the house because it was so complicated to feed him.  I had to keep the breast milk cool and then heat it.  If I was out in town I had to bring cooler bags and a bottle heater I had bought and plug it into the car. Yet, I was determined that if I couldn't nurse I would absolutely give my son breast milk.  I wanted to give him that.

















I began to feel that I should even give up trying to nurse him each time.  It was exhausting emotionally to try each time and fail.

Then we went up to visit family in Pennsylvania.  I decided that I would just pump and feed Edmund while we were up there because I didn't want to be stressed about it all when I was with family. I just wanted to enjoy the time.  But I was still very discouraged about not being able to nurse.  It was supposed to be natural and bonding and I was missing out on that.  I felt like a failure.

I began to realize that I was going to be freezing a lot of breast milk.  I already had a bunch frozen at home and now that I was just pumping I ended up with 10-14 extra ounces each day.  Just about the time I realized this God placed a thought in my head.

A friend had recently adopted a baby.  Would it be weird to offer this mother my extra breast milk?  Did people even do that? But I felt impressed to offer.  So I did.

"I am pumping my breast milk because Edmund and I can't seem to get it to work. But that means I am pumping 10-14 extra ounces a day. I have been freezing it. I heard that some people like to have breast milk for their baby even if it is from someone else. I realize it is kind of a weird thing, but if you wanted my extra breast milk I would be happy to give it to you. ..... Again, I realize it sounds weird, but I just wanted you to have it-- if you wanted it."

 Can you see how I felt awkward offering?  Yet, God (who know all things) knew I was supposed to offer.

She replied, "God bless you! I have tears in my eyes reading your message. I have been searching online to find people willing to donate breast milk...."

I had no idea that she was even looking for people to donate breast milk.  God did.  All of a sudden I wasn't discouraged or depressed about pumping.  I felt as if I had been given a double gift.  I could feed my son breast milk and give it to another little precious baby!  A double blessing.  One I would not have been able to give if I had been able to solely breastfeed.

It wasn't even a week later that I tried to nurse Edmund again for the first time.  And he nursed.  Only one side but he nursed and was full.  The first feeding each morning I could nurse him.  Still I was able to pump extra to give.

We went home and I continued to freeze the extra milk so that I could ship it.  And...little by little I began trying to introduce one feeding back at a time.

And he nursed.  Not like I had imagined.  One side, 3-5 minutes and he was done.  But he was full.  He was nursing.  Soon he was nursing at every feeding and would just take a bottle during the last feeding when he would cluster feed.

Months passed like this.  But I still pumped in the morning after he nursed.  Soon I had over 900 oz to ship.

My pumping was not in vain.  My anxiety and depression over not being able to nurse was not in vain.  I was able to have a double blessing to give.  And, it seemed that I was being given back the blessing of being able to nurse.  Almost as if God allowed me to not be able to nurse so that I would pump and be able to donate my breast milk and once I was donating, to allow Edmund to nurse again.  There was no rhyme or reason why he nursed again.  He just did.  Just like there was no rhyme or reason why he stopped.

The day Edmund turned seven months old he nursed the whole day without needing the bottle.  I could have wept tears of joy.

But I decided that I would not give up pumping.  I wanted to continue to give from this double blessing.

Soon I will be pumping less as I get ready to tell my body that I don't need to make as much, in preparation for weaning Edmund.  But for now, I save every extra ounce and praise God for the incredible blessing of being able to pump.

I feel joy in saying that I am glad I couldn't exclusivity nurse Edmund in the beginning.  Glad I had to pump.  Because then I could give. God gave me a double blessing.

I feel joy in saying that God also gave me a triple blessing because now I do exclusively nurse my son.

This is not the journey I imagined when I was pregnant.

But because it is different, harder in ways, I have more blessings to count.