You hold the sponge under the kitchen faucet and start to get frustrated when it isn't getting wet... then you realize you never turned the water on.
Colt is an epic mess. Re-thinking the whole 5 thing... :o)
You get Nationally Board Certified and don't even know it until 2 weeks later.
You forget that the milk goes in the fridge... not the cabinet.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Oh my. I went in for a regular check up on Monday morning. I had been measuring small for the last 3 months, and the good doctor wanted to do a second sonogram to check the baby's growth. My belly was measuring at 31 weeks...I was 37 weeks. At the office she decided she wanted a second opinion from the Women's Specialty Center in the birthing center. I walked across to the next building and called Josh to let him know what was happening. He asked if he should leave work but I said, "no" because they checked me out and set up an appointment for the following Monday. I thought everything was fine, that the doctor was being overly cautious.
Nope.
The sonogram technician at the specialty center showed me the growth and development chart. Colt was out of range... in the 5% range to be exact. They sent me to the waiting room while the doctors "consulted." I texted Josh. I told him I was scared. He was there in 15 minutes. The doctors were still consulting...
The second sonogram revealed the deviations in blood flow, low amniotic fluid, and a baby measuring at 34 weeks. The doctor said that normally, with low birth weight, they recommend delivery at 38 weeks but with low birth weight and complications they suggest delivery at 37 weeks. I had been sick for 8 days and Josh and I just wanted him to be in the safest environment possible. Apparently that was no longer my womb so we told the doctor to get him out of there. He called my doctor at Raleigh OBGYN and she said they could do a c section that day, since he was still breech. They sent us to labor and delivery on the second floor, and told me to take off all of my jewelry.
I think we were still in shock. We started the phone calling but this cloudy layer of disbelief and worry started drowning me. I tried to push it away because I also had this feeling that he was fine... just small.
By 10:30 I was in a bed in triage answering tons and tons of the same questions over and over again. At 4:03 they pulled Colt from my belly and I heard him whimper.
He was fine! Healthy, beautiful... 5lbs, 13oz and 19 inches long. Perfect. Scored an 8 and 9 on the Apgar (same as Parker). When I finally held him in the recovery room, he latched on. And when we finally settled in our room, I cried like a baby because God is so so good and I was so so scared.
Fear not, for I am with thee.
Colt dropped to 5.4 with slight jaundice by the 3 day and we are currently nursing like crazy and venturing outside for time in the sun, while managing 3 boys and frequent pediatrician visits. Parker is recovering from a double ear infection, and Kane is readjusting to mommy and daddy's rules. The boys were spoiled by Nonna for 4 days and lived out of a bag. Jo Jo is still at Nonna's house and Kane is going through separation.
I think I may still be standing in fog. I have a cough that pulls and tugs and makes my incision burn every time. Healing from this is going to take a lot longer than it did with Kane and Parker's delivery.
The plus side is the support we have from our friends at Central. I just returned from a beach trip with the girls on Saturday and I think God arranged that on purpose. He opened up a few doors that I was OK with walking through over the weekend and because of it, I have hope that any and all forms of postpartum will be conquered. I have a lot of accountability partners. Josh and I are in a much different place today than we were a year ago. It may sound funny, but 3 boys is cake compared to that. We know ourselves better, we know each other better, and I really believe in the salvation of Jesus. I know it sounds funny but I don't think my personality has changed, or that I am so completely different... I just think I admitted what my weaknesses were. I allowed God and my family to help me with them, to send people to be in my life that would help me with them, and focused on that one act of asking God to change the desires of my heart. I pray a constant river of "pleases and helps" but it just seems like the struggles are different now.
Like just yesterday I went upstairs to pump for 15 minutes and within that time, Parker ended up with a bruise, Kane ended up in different clothes, and the floor got a bath. Don't ask.
Don't let it fool you.... I AM so excited to start this walk with Colt. I can't wait to see his personality and watch our family grow together in Christ.
Nope.
The sonogram technician at the specialty center showed me the growth and development chart. Colt was out of range... in the 5% range to be exact. They sent me to the waiting room while the doctors "consulted." I texted Josh. I told him I was scared. He was there in 15 minutes. The doctors were still consulting...
The second sonogram revealed the deviations in blood flow, low amniotic fluid, and a baby measuring at 34 weeks. The doctor said that normally, with low birth weight, they recommend delivery at 38 weeks but with low birth weight and complications they suggest delivery at 37 weeks. I had been sick for 8 days and Josh and I just wanted him to be in the safest environment possible. Apparently that was no longer my womb so we told the doctor to get him out of there. He called my doctor at Raleigh OBGYN and she said they could do a c section that day, since he was still breech. They sent us to labor and delivery on the second floor, and told me to take off all of my jewelry.
I think we were still in shock. We started the phone calling but this cloudy layer of disbelief and worry started drowning me. I tried to push it away because I also had this feeling that he was fine... just small.
By 10:30 I was in a bed in triage answering tons and tons of the same questions over and over again. At 4:03 they pulled Colt from my belly and I heard him whimper.
He was fine! Healthy, beautiful... 5lbs, 13oz and 19 inches long. Perfect. Scored an 8 and 9 on the Apgar (same as Parker). When I finally held him in the recovery room, he latched on. And when we finally settled in our room, I cried like a baby because God is so so good and I was so so scared.
Fear not, for I am with thee.
Colt dropped to 5.4 with slight jaundice by the 3 day and we are currently nursing like crazy and venturing outside for time in the sun, while managing 3 boys and frequent pediatrician visits. Parker is recovering from a double ear infection, and Kane is readjusting to mommy and daddy's rules. The boys were spoiled by Nonna for 4 days and lived out of a bag. Jo Jo is still at Nonna's house and Kane is going through separation.
I think I may still be standing in fog. I have a cough that pulls and tugs and makes my incision burn every time. Healing from this is going to take a lot longer than it did with Kane and Parker's delivery.
The plus side is the support we have from our friends at Central. I just returned from a beach trip with the girls on Saturday and I think God arranged that on purpose. He opened up a few doors that I was OK with walking through over the weekend and because of it, I have hope that any and all forms of postpartum will be conquered. I have a lot of accountability partners. Josh and I are in a much different place today than we were a year ago. It may sound funny, but 3 boys is cake compared to that. We know ourselves better, we know each other better, and I really believe in the salvation of Jesus. I know it sounds funny but I don't think my personality has changed, or that I am so completely different... I just think I admitted what my weaknesses were. I allowed God and my family to help me with them, to send people to be in my life that would help me with them, and focused on that one act of asking God to change the desires of my heart. I pray a constant river of "pleases and helps" but it just seems like the struggles are different now.
Like just yesterday I went upstairs to pump for 15 minutes and within that time, Parker ended up with a bruise, Kane ended up in different clothes, and the floor got a bath. Don't ask.
Don't let it fool you.... I AM so excited to start this walk with Colt. I can't wait to see his personality and watch our family grow together in Christ.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
My Summer... so far.
Well Kane and I kicked summer off at the Wendell swim club. The water was freezing and upon ignoring Kane altogether his fear collapsed to cautious bravery as he slipped beneath the water 3 times. Yay for Kane. Here's to a summer of learning to swim. It wasn't until later that I discovered that while Kane is the debater of all things fun and/or necessary when it comes to water, Parker is the infamous (and fearless) "Flipper" from that '90's show about the crime-stopping dolphin. Meanwhile, baby Colt is swimming in a sea of placenta and quite content to stay put (thanks for that darling..).
In the mean time we have ventured into the quest of dog-training with our youngest member of the family, Sascha the husky shepherd. Leash walking on day one ended with me scratched, bleeding, and bruised from literally head to toe. That puppy is bigger than a Smart Car. She could eat me. The plus is that 3 weeks later she is now able to walk on a leash and does well when there are no cats in her line of vision. We have discovered, to our dismay, that when we leave our front door open to the protection of the storm door only, she is able to barge through the storm door (even when locked), and will go on a rampage in search of our cat Bell-a-bell. Poor Bella, she has scaled trees and vanished in gutters to avoid the gnashing teeth of this car-like animal. All in all, training is going quite well :o)
I also spent a week with the boys at my dad's place near Topsail Island. We combed the beach every day and for me, it was a much needed period of isolation. Sometimes the quiet fields of Verona, and the eternal love of my father are the only therapy I need to forget that raging battle of integrity inside me.
But the real highlight of the summer has been the legalities and compassion surrounding a family member with intense depression and his stint at the neuroscience facility in UNC Chapel Hill's hospital.
My parents divorced when I was a preschooler and my uncle moved in with my dad closely afterwards. He never left. In hindsight I noticed that he slept ridiculously long hours (or days) and never engaged much with me as a child. But I loved him so severely that I cannot imagine what it would have been like to grow up without him in my home. I stayed at my dad's house on Thursdays and every Friday morning I woke up, made my bed ("Navy style" to suit my uncle's taste...though he dubbed a redo regardless), and went to the bathroom to find a treat of some sort on the counter. If I couldn't sleep, we would do word puzzles together and watch TV drama. If I left a mess of any kind he cleaned it up religiously. I slept with "Little Foot" the stuffed animal from The Land Before Time until I was 18 and when I wasn't at my dad's... my uncle babysat him for me. He even stitched him up once or twice. My uncle had impeccable taste in design and bought home furnishings and furniture to change the look of my bedroom and bathroom. I loved my uncle because he was consistent, reliable, predictable, and constant. Yet there was a volatile imbalance in him that came with ironies and impulsiveness. And that was interesting to me too. I looked forward to those late nights when he arrived home from work (having always worked the night shift), when he would let me in on something he'd been pondering. It could have been a brand new car, a speeding ticket, or new furnishings, but whatever it was, it was always so endearing to find him excited or emotional about something. Something. Anything.
He was involuntarily committed to UNC a little over a week ago. He just didn't think he could go on and the reality of his threats to his life became too convincing. I've visited almost everyday. He's laid in a bed for 4 of them. I saw no hope, I saw anger, sadness, frustration. On that 2.5 hour daily round trip... I often think, "Where are you? Where is my constant? I need you to get up and try." Some days I just feel so small next to his big listless heart. My dad and his twin brother came up to visit with him on Saturday after we listed his house on the market. This momentous day meant much to our family as we gear up to move my uncle home to be with his brothers in Verona. The nurses are reporting some activity on his part (finally), though he continues to be reluctant to face the day. I witness to him daily, though I know he loves the Lord. I read from the Bible... it's calming and lyrical sonnets. I rub his back and tell him how much he is loved by so so so many people.
It's not as if the signs weren't there all these years. We all knew he had his struggles. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd fallen into a deep depression. His obsessive compulsive tendencies and anxiety were clear indicators. Have you ever seen the show "Monk"? Picture that guy with manic depression... working the night shift at a convenient store for 18 years. You get the idea. It took a non-family member to call the world to attention to my uncle's inner turmoil. Some days I wish it were one of us that had realized he was beyond the help of the love of his family... that his conflicts ran too deep even for us. I consider my family one of the strongest units on earth. They are vast. Their support runs deep and complete. Among the many things I have learned from this, it's that my family is limitless in their collaboration to help. Yes, we each have boundaries.... but the desire to support and raise up is flawless. I think that is rare, and I know I've been blessed to have them. I am beyond grateful that my children can say they are a part of of this particular family, and that they will know it actually means something enduring... something bigger than themselves. And I pray that my uncle will find strength in God's sufficient and perfect power to reveal purpose to his life.
In the mean time we have ventured into the quest of dog-training with our youngest member of the family, Sascha the husky shepherd. Leash walking on day one ended with me scratched, bleeding, and bruised from literally head to toe. That puppy is bigger than a Smart Car. She could eat me. The plus is that 3 weeks later she is now able to walk on a leash and does well when there are no cats in her line of vision. We have discovered, to our dismay, that when we leave our front door open to the protection of the storm door only, she is able to barge through the storm door (even when locked), and will go on a rampage in search of our cat Bell-a-bell. Poor Bella, she has scaled trees and vanished in gutters to avoid the gnashing teeth of this car-like animal. All in all, training is going quite well :o)
I also spent a week with the boys at my dad's place near Topsail Island. We combed the beach every day and for me, it was a much needed period of isolation. Sometimes the quiet fields of Verona, and the eternal love of my father are the only therapy I need to forget that raging battle of integrity inside me.
But the real highlight of the summer has been the legalities and compassion surrounding a family member with intense depression and his stint at the neuroscience facility in UNC Chapel Hill's hospital.
My parents divorced when I was a preschooler and my uncle moved in with my dad closely afterwards. He never left. In hindsight I noticed that he slept ridiculously long hours (or days) and never engaged much with me as a child. But I loved him so severely that I cannot imagine what it would have been like to grow up without him in my home. I stayed at my dad's house on Thursdays and every Friday morning I woke up, made my bed ("Navy style" to suit my uncle's taste...though he dubbed a redo regardless), and went to the bathroom to find a treat of some sort on the counter. If I couldn't sleep, we would do word puzzles together and watch TV drama. If I left a mess of any kind he cleaned it up religiously. I slept with "Little Foot" the stuffed animal from The Land Before Time until I was 18 and when I wasn't at my dad's... my uncle babysat him for me. He even stitched him up once or twice. My uncle had impeccable taste in design and bought home furnishings and furniture to change the look of my bedroom and bathroom. I loved my uncle because he was consistent, reliable, predictable, and constant. Yet there was a volatile imbalance in him that came with ironies and impulsiveness. And that was interesting to me too. I looked forward to those late nights when he arrived home from work (having always worked the night shift), when he would let me in on something he'd been pondering. It could have been a brand new car, a speeding ticket, or new furnishings, but whatever it was, it was always so endearing to find him excited or emotional about something. Something. Anything.
He was involuntarily committed to UNC a little over a week ago. He just didn't think he could go on and the reality of his threats to his life became too convincing. I've visited almost everyday. He's laid in a bed for 4 of them. I saw no hope, I saw anger, sadness, frustration. On that 2.5 hour daily round trip... I often think, "Where are you? Where is my constant? I need you to get up and try." Some days I just feel so small next to his big listless heart. My dad and his twin brother came up to visit with him on Saturday after we listed his house on the market. This momentous day meant much to our family as we gear up to move my uncle home to be with his brothers in Verona. The nurses are reporting some activity on his part (finally), though he continues to be reluctant to face the day. I witness to him daily, though I know he loves the Lord. I read from the Bible... it's calming and lyrical sonnets. I rub his back and tell him how much he is loved by so so so many people.
It's not as if the signs weren't there all these years. We all knew he had his struggles. It certainly wasn't the first time he'd fallen into a deep depression. His obsessive compulsive tendencies and anxiety were clear indicators. Have you ever seen the show "Monk"? Picture that guy with manic depression... working the night shift at a convenient store for 18 years. You get the idea. It took a non-family member to call the world to attention to my uncle's inner turmoil. Some days I wish it were one of us that had realized he was beyond the help of the love of his family... that his conflicts ran too deep even for us. I consider my family one of the strongest units on earth. They are vast. Their support runs deep and complete. Among the many things I have learned from this, it's that my family is limitless in their collaboration to help. Yes, we each have boundaries.... but the desire to support and raise up is flawless. I think that is rare, and I know I've been blessed to have them. I am beyond grateful that my children can say they are a part of of this particular family, and that they will know it actually means something enduring... something bigger than themselves. And I pray that my uncle will find strength in God's sufficient and perfect power to reveal purpose to his life.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
...but just to add to that because I like having the last word... my favorite part was watching all those kids playing on the trampoline, squirting their parents in the eyeballs with spray bottles, catching Xander and Parker as they dove down the slide, endlessly fetching escaped bouncy balls from the trampoline, listening to bluegrass, and devouring Connie's cake. Thanks Kane. All you ever have to do is be you, and it gives me an unparallelled peace in God's plan (no matter the "storm").
Happy Birthday My Son!
OK so I'm still a day early but today was great! We woke up early this morning or rather Shannon woke up, then Kane woke up, then Kane woke Daddy up. After the normal running around the house to get the boys dressed and fed, get the dogs fed, get the boy's shoes on, tell Shannon to hurry up in the bathroom, listen to Shannon say how tired she is of me picking on her about getting ready in the morning, eat some cereal, down a second cup of coffee, get dressed, oh and feed the cat we finally made it off to church. Church was great as usual, good sermon, good fellowship and good worship. Pastor Ed spoke of the fact that we all will face storms in life and must persevere through them to become better Christians. After the sermon and Sunday School it's back to the homestead for the finishing touches before Kane's Birthday Party. For my part that included poop patrol, tiki torch installation, trash pickup in the yard, Shannon insisted I spray down the dry dirt in the backyard so it wasn't so dusty, water the garden, harvest today's yield(yes I believe myself to be a farmer), clean up the shed a little better in case someone from church wants to look in there(who says guy's don't care what their shed looks like), relocate the crate upstairs to safely stash the youngest dog, place sheets over the bed for the 2nd dog to not ruin my comforter and finally sit down on the back porch with Shannon for five minutes before family shows up. I forgot, go get more propane for the grill in case we need it. Despite all the preparations today was great. Kane immensely enjoyed his trampoline as well as all his gifts and company. Thank you to all that graced us with your company and to my beautiful wife for all her hard work in setting up. More then anything thank you God for such a beautiful almost four year old still my baby boy. God has truly given us ups and downs with this one from cleft lip repairs to plunges off the back of an old truck, potty training to not wanting Dad's help on the potty, speech therapy to being called by the sitter "her little Debater", a shy child who won't say hello to a child who ask me daily when he's going back to school and who by the grace of the Lord has more Bible verses memorized then I do though I hesitate in revealing that. Son if you read this one day know that in four years you have made more proud of you then I ever knew was possible. Keep God in your heart and faith on your mind with hope in your soul and always love your life as much I see you do now and you'll be truly blessed and so will I.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Josh and I are expecting Jackson "Colt" to arrive around the first of November... making him our 3rd boy and expanding our family to FIVE. Josh came up with the name in the waiting area at the OB after we saw the ultrasound. This kid was all over the place... twisting and turning in my belly like a little pistol. Hence the name :o) "Jackson" is short for Jacksonville (home of the Phillips family). "Colt" is for Josh's latest gun hobby. And in typical Ferrell fashion, we'll call him Colt to follow suit with Joshua "Kane" (baby Ferrell #1) and John "Parker" (baby Ferrell #2).
So welcome to the fam little man. You've got 3 huge dogs, a cat, 2 brothers, and a daddy and a mommy that can't wait for your B day!
So welcome to the fam little man. You've got 3 huge dogs, a cat, 2 brothers, and a daddy and a mommy that can't wait for your B day!
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