I guess I seemed a bit overwhelmed in my last post. I got a lot of feedback about people's experiences with the arrival of baby number 3 throwing the balance. I think I have heard this about the second and the fourth too. After four, I hear it's all a blur. I don't know that I am super overwhelmed with three kids. We've had a rougher start than I would have preferred and it is true that I am not part octopus and still have only two arms with two hands at the end of them. I find myself reminding the children of this by asking, "How many children does Mommy have?" Sometimes the answer is three, sometimes four as Marc gets included in that count on occasion based on his behavior. :) I did ask this question when there were only two (or three with Marc) also. I am one of six children, (seven including my sister who didn't grow up in our house), and I don't know how my parents did it. My guess is that they don't either.
I love being a mom though. It's something that I have longed for since I was a young child. I remember being four years old and confidently thinking that I wanted to have seven children, a combination of my blood and adopted. I don't know why seven. I only had one or two little brothers at the time. Little brothers three and four were not even on the horizon. Seven was the number though. I held on to that number into adulthood. After such a rough (sick) pregnancy with Evangeline and then the crazy sleepless labor and delivery, my OB said to us (it took a lot of research and conversation to convince him to let me try for the natural route vs a repeat c-section) that now that I have done it this way (naturally), I can have seven more the same way. There was that seven again. This time, however, I thought, "I think I'm good." I do still like the idea of adopting, but we aren't at that point yet either. For now, learning how to be a two armed octopus with a complete skeleton is enough. :)
I'm glad to report that Lucas is doing much, much better. He started turning last Wednesday night/Thursday morning. He got up that morning at a reasonable hour and ate breakfast. It was the first day in three weeks he had done so. I don't know what changed though the prayers of so many faithful friends I am certain had something to do with it. We began treating him for a urinary tract infection (UTI) because his urine culture grew E. coli, but his urinalysis was fine, so he likely did not have a UTI, but the sample I collected was contaminated. It happens a lot. His blood work was also negative for both cytomegalovirus (CMV) and Epstien-Barr virus (EBV), the two primary culprits behind mononucleosis (mono). We took him to the ophthalmologist for his yearly exam and Dr. Lueder said that there were no signs of pressure to suggest a shunt malfunction (and that his astigmatism has returned in the right eye and is now present in the left eye as they are working to balance their abilities apparently), but we made an appointment with the neurosurgeon's office anyway to check his shunt. It's fine. I didn't think that there was a UTI or a shunt malfunction, but it's good to cover the bases when we don't know what's happening. I thought it was mono and it wasn't so... My bottom line with Lucas remains about the same: I don't know. He is a fascinating case, our sweet moose. :)
Thankfully, whatever had been afflicting him seems to be at bay. His seizure activity has dropped back off and has been even lower in number than it was before getting sick. The severity has remained higher and he has continued to demonstrate some new seizure presentations, but overall, he is back to Lucas, back to smiling and snuggling and squealing and eating. :) Our amazing boy.
Again, I am sure that there is more to say; there always is. I know that I have left most of you in the dark for a long time about the goings on in the life of Lucas. Now, however, I want to get back to my Saturday morning with my family, a time I savor and hate to miss. Before signing off for I don't know how long, I would like to leave you with this: I was talking and praying with our dear friend Desiree late one night last week while Marc was out of town. (I decided to seize an opportunity I don't have often enough even though it meant a greater lacking in sleep.) I don't remember if it was something she said in conversation or something she prayed, but she mentioned "the joy of the Lord is [my] strength". It hit me hard because it is so true. I am weak. I am tired - all the time. I am brokenhearted to see my son, my beloved son suffering. I am brokenhearted to see my community suffering. (We live in the now world famous Ferguson - and we love it.) I struggle to balance my time. I don't even shower most days. There are countless things that I long to do - keep my house clean and organized, read more with my children, sew, read (for myself), shower, sleep, garden, design toys and clothing and household gadgets beyond the wonderings of my mind, etcetera. Not to mention things like see Lucas walk and run and dance like I've seen in my dreams or hear him talk and sing and see him look at me, holding my gaze from across the room. I long for so much, but in the midst of my longing that seems without measure, I am satisfied because the joy of the Lord IS my strength.
To think of my longings compared to my joys, the scale is tipped so much that as my list of thanks continues, the pain of longing is so far removed from me that I almost cannot see it and I am comforted. I have a house with a roof, walls and secure doors. I have electricity, running water that's clean and even hot if I want it to be, I have toilets that flush - two of them, I have heating and cooling, clothes, blankets, beds, pillows, dishes, Food, and so much more. I have a husband who loves me and our children and our community. I have three amazing children. Yes, my son is not a "typical" boy, but it is impossible to imagine life without him. He is a vessel of joy and peace and comfort in the form of an almost eight year old boy. Ask anyone who has sat with him; he will change your life. Everything is all right when snuggling Lucas. Everything. Looking at the countless blessings in my life, the most obvious in the forms of family and faithful friends, I am convinced again and again of the love of God, the greatest blessing of all. He comforts me, consoles me, encourages me and strengthens me. He fills me with joy and I am not only able to trudge through life, but to savor it for all its wonderful delicioiusness.
It's my prayer that you would have hearts filled with thanksgiving for the good that abounds, that you would be moved to celebrate every raindrop as it is a reminder of the rainbows, even if you never see the rainbows. God is good. Moving into Spring is a perfect time to be blown away by the new life that awaits us if we take hold. Soften your hearts, rejoice in the good even in the midst of the pain.The butterfly couldn't fly if it didn't first endure the long dark and the hard struggle into the light.
Bless you all. I remain forever thankful for you. May the joy of the Lord be your strength as well.I'm off to snuggle my boy now!
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