Thankful for...

A five-year-old who still loves naps.

On My Knees

When was the last time you literally got down on your knees before God?

It's something we typically do in our darkest hours of distress. Humbling ourselves before God in a last-ditch effort to beg for His intervention.

Before N became ill, spiritually speaking, my knees were pretty smooth. Baby-bottom smooth, I'd even venture to say. Prayer time was before meals and as I drifted off to sleep every night, cozy in my bed. This past spring, however, (remember that Beth Moore Bible study I did?) I felt God convicting me. I felt Him directing me to Get. On. My. Knees.

I resisted.

One morning, I opened my eyes, saw my Bible on my nightstand, and felt like God was telling me to get out of bed to meet with Him--not just curl up all cozy-like and in a still dream-like state.

I did not respond. In fact, I rolled over and went back to sleep.

When I confided that to the ladies in my Bible study, they all expressed concern (and, actually, shock). "If I felt like God was telling me to get out of bed and on my knees, I would DO it," one girl said.

The harsh judgment stung, but she spoke only truth. I didn't want to alarm my husband by kneeling by our bed, so I took to going into our big messy walk-in closet and kneeling down before God. I kept remembering a part of Beth Moore's video, where she spoke of how she knelt down in distress at one point and felt God telling her to go even lower.

So there I was, most mornings, face pressed to the lint-stricken floor of the closet (I should really vacuum in the there), and I always had the head-rush to prove it. (Try it sometime, it doesn't feel good when you sit up.)

At first, I did it because I knew I was supposed to. Then I did it because I felt convicted. Then I started understanding what it meant to humble myself before God. To actively put my life in His hands. To renew my faith every morning and invite Him to guide my every step each day.

True, I do not go in my closet to meet with God every morning, but I do when I realize I am feeling disconnected again, when I know that my time in the Word has been stilted, distracted, or non-existent. Without fail, it is with melancholy I approach the closet and my time with God. It is with little hope, but all obedience, and a very big dose of ever-growing, yet slightly wavering, trust.

I realized tonight that I have never gone on my knees in thanksgiving. I have had plenty to be thankful for in my life. God has worked plenty of miracles in my life for which I should have dropped to my knees and praised Him. But too often, the relief and joy sets in, I send a quick prayer of thanks to God, and that is the end of it.

I am filled with so much hope, so much relief, so much thankfulness, that tears have filled my eyes more than once today. My husband is heading into the middle of his SEVENTH week of work. But it's not just that he can work, and that God has sustained his job. It is that his drive is coming back, his ambition, his zest for life, his ability to enjoy small pleasures. He tells me that the past 2.5 years have flown by in a haze of pain. That the pain was so unbearable, so overtaking, that he just could not care about anything. He couldn't fathom the reality of his illness. Now that he has had nearly 7 weeks of improved health, he says that life is getting harder.

Now he sees what lies ahead, he sees what he wants to achieve, he sees how his illness has kept him back, and how it will likely always limit him. Life is harder for him right now, but yet it is fuller.

I still don't know if he will have a relapse, and I still maintain that I will thank God no matter how long of a reprieve we get. But I am starting to believe this could really be *it*. A very gradual miracle, but a miracle just the same.

I finally looked up the anti-viral the doctor prescribed for my husband. Remember, I had been asking doctors for upwards of 18 months to prescribe an anti-viral, and no one would do it. Too many side effects, not well enough researched, not enough proof, etc., etc. No one cared that my 31-year-old hubby had ZERO quality of life. He wasn't dying, and his bloodwork looked fine (save for the high Epstein Barr titers and a few other random issues), so everyone brushed us off.

When I looked up the anti-viral today (Valtrex), I was surprised to learn that it is the same drug I began asking about in early 2008, a few months after his diagnosis with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (and, for the record, whoever came up with that condescending name should be ashamed). The medical name for the drug is valcyclovir. The drug seems to improve symptoms in approximately 2/3 of CFS patients.

The theory is that the anti-viral prevents the virus from replicating itself. Valtrex does not kill the virus itself, but prevents replication, and eventually the old virus cells die off. It could take a year or three on the medication, but symptoms tend to continue to improve.

I have chills just thinking about it. N has had no further chest pain since beginning the medication, which, incidentally, has been shown to improve the typical heart conditions seen in CFS patients. His energy has skyrocketed, and his pain level has decreased. Without insurance, the drug would cost over $800 per month. Guess what? I would pay that. It would be worth it.

As each week passes, I find myself growing more and more miffed at how difficult it was for us to obtain this anti-viral. And then I think of all the people who have CFS and don't know it (because lots of docs pass it off as psychological first). And the people who have CFS, know it, but can't get anyone to prescribe an anti-viral. I want to get the word out. Too many people are suffering without getting a chance to just *try* the drug to see if it will work.

Sorry. I'm getting long-winded. So I will briefly close with this glorious sight:

Most of you know, but we officially took our name off the infant list. As time wore on, it became increasingly clear that we would likely receive an infant referral first, and I began to realize how much my heart longed to adopt siblings again. My husband wanted that from the beginning, but I had that whole baby-girl image going and didn't want to let it go. Now I can say I am ABSOLUTELY ready for whoever God has waiting for us! 0-3 years, with at least one girl.

If you are looking for me tomorrow morning, you can find me in my closet.

Moments in Mommyhood

Let me just advise you not to scroll down if you have a weak stomach.

Or if you don't want to see big dead insects up-close-and-personal-like.

Because...

this...

is...

what...

I...

spent...

a half-hour...

doing...

today...

while...

Cheru slept...



That's right. We have a wasp problem. Today when Cheru and I came home from my music teachers' meeting, I heard the telltale buzzing. Wasp #1 was half-dead in the foyer, a victim of our cat.

While Cheru took charge with a final blow to the wasp with one of Daddy's shoes, I looked for the cat, who was crouching by the fireplace with big eyes.

I shivered. I. Hate. Wasps. I really do not like any insects, actually. And it is even difficult for me to encourage my children to inspect worms and such. I helped Cheru get settled for his nap and then I went to do battle with wasp #2. But it was no longer on the fireplace. I heard buzzing coming from inside, so I lit the fire and heard buzzing mixed with sizzling. Yay. Wasp #2 dead.

Then a wasp flew by my head. I shrieked. Very helpful.

Using my weapons (a broom and a sneaker), I got the best of wasp #3. But thought I'd heard buzzing from the piano room. Sure enough, there was one on the wall. Boom. Got that one too. Four wasps. Nasty.

At this point, I just wanted to get a drink of water and sit down. My adrenaline was pumping and I could hear my own heart beat. But I decided to check behind the curtains in the kitchen (the wasps tend to migrate there toward the sun). I carefully lifted back the curtains with the end of my broom, and groaned out loud at the THREE wasps crawling along the glass, side by side.

I considered getting Cheru and leaving the house until N came home. But I decided to brave the wasps. After killing wasp #5, I went a little crazy and starting laughing hysterically because I couldn't believe I had to kill 2 more, and I was getting really creeped out by all the dead wasps everywhere and all the buzzing. I managed to get wasps 6 & 7 with a whole lot of smashing with the broom and shrieking out loud. Then my beaded necklace rubbed together and it sounded like a buzzing. I swiveled around with the broom in hand, and, OH, you should have seen the dog and cat run! They had been watching me, I guess, during my murderous rampage. Fearing the broom, they disappeared in a flash. I am happy to report that after starting the fire, no more wasps have appeared. Hopefully the pest control peeps can do something about this on Monday. Until then, the fireplace will remain on, along with the air conditioner, since it's in the 80s around here.

After killing the wasps, I took the lovely photo for you all to enjoy, and then I flushed the nasty suckers down the toilet.

Speaking of toilets...

I went upstairs today to put some clothes away in the boys' room. As I passed their bathroom, I noticed something dark in their toilet. I stopped in my tracks and slowly walked back to the bathroom to investigate. I thought it might be some creepy kind of rodent (wasps on the mind, I guess). This is what I found:

Yes, Tai Lung in the toilet.

I showed the boys each individually to see their reaction, and each of them looked very bewildered and slightly amused. Tai Lung was not wet on top, but someone had peed before throwing the poor guy in the toilet. Our best guess is that someone was holding Tai Lung during the night, brought him to the potty, peed, and then tossed him in the potty instead of flushing the potty. We gave Tai Lung a proper funeral today.

Such are the moments in mommyhood that I may never exactly cherish, but I certainly will never forget.

I'm Thankful For...

1. My husband's job. I read today that the unemployment rate has risen to above 10%. God has sustained N's job through this very long illness, and whether this miracle lasts another day or another year or the rest of my husband's career, I will never stop thanking God for it.

2. Two healthy, happy, goofy little boys.

3. My own health.

4. The pretty weather this month.

5. Our upcoming trip to visit family in Maryland for Thanksgiving. It's the first time the four of us have been on an airplane together since we flew home from Ethiopia 4 years ago.

6. My piano students. The schedule is not ideal, and I'm struggling with that. But my students are all excelling. They are motivated, sweet, respectful, and talented.

7. My dog. I am not a dog person, but I'm starting to love Abby. Yes, I've had her for 6 years. She's finally grown on me. She is so cute, and so sweet. She barks ferociously at strangers at the door or in our yard, and she cowers and tries to get in bed with us during thunderstorms. She loves our walks, and she loves the boys. She listens to their commands, and happily follows them outside whenever they get backyard play time.

8. A five-year-old who still naps daily. Sometimes we even nap together. But when we don't, I get to have some rare quiet time during the day. I am supposed to be ironing right now, however.

9. Five weeks of full-time work accomplished for N.

10. My family. I have close relationships with all of my siblings and my mom and dad. I realize how lucky I am, and pray that our own family grows up with the same closeness.

And while I'm at it, I have three odd things to add to my list. Things I've never said out loud.

1. I am thankful for infertility. I don't know if we would have adopted had we been able to have biological children. We said we would, we said we wanted to, but life happens. Adoption is expensive, and the process is not for the easily-frustrated. :) The thought of going through life without ever meeting our sons....it is unfathomable. Thank you, God, for the gift of infertility.

2. I am thankful for the ironing pile. Okay, I really hate ironing. I despise it with all of my being, actually. But the pile has been full at the end of each week for five weeks straight because N has been miraculously able to work. Thank you, God, for the big pile of ironing I need to do.

3. I am thankful for hardship. I really can't bring myself to say I am thankful for my N's illness, so that's how I'm skating around it. I would never go back and take our fertility back if I could. And I'd much rather have an ironing pile than have N so sick he can't work. But I still would really rather that this illness had never made an appearance. But since it did, and since I can't take it back, I am thankful. Because I lived my life so much differently before March 2007. My priorities were different. My actions toward my husband were not as loving. We had a great life, but I didn't rely on God. When things were going along perfectly, I didn't need to rely on God--or so I thought. But looking back, my husband and I can both see that our relationship with one another, with our children, and with God will be forever changed because of what we've experienced. So. Thank you, God, for showing us hardship. (But it would be awesome if things would only go uphill from here for the rest of our lives... ;o) )

New Numbers!!!

Now we are...

#19 Girls

and

#4 Siblings

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

P.S. The closer we get to siblings, the more we want siblings more than anything else in the world. Stay tuned. We may take our names off the girls list...But have not decided yet. :)

On my mind...

One of the many differences between our two sons... (click on the photos to see them up close--it's totally worth it)



In other, unrelated, news...

My husband has been sick for 2 years, 7 months, and 9 days. That adds up to approximately 949 days. It also equates to approximately 133 work weeks.

Out of those 133 work weeks, I would estimate that he has been able to work 20 total weeks. I am not exaggerating.

He began the anti-viral 5 weeks ago. He has been working full-time for 4 weeks and 3 days. A RECORD!

Do I dare hope this is the miracle we have been praying for? When my friend recently got her miracle, she shouted it from a rooftop. I want to do that, too. Only it's a little difficult to accurately state that my miracle has taken place. I wonder how many months will have to pass before I will allow myself to hope. And then how many more months before I can believe.

For now, this is enough. And I am reminded often of what I have to be thankful for.

Like this...

...And whoever else is going to be in these pictures in 2010. I feel like our referral is getting closer--and fast. I find myself picturing more kids. I look in the rearview mirror, and I imagine a carseat in the back. Sometimes two car seats. Looking at some recent photos of our sons, I picture a little someone in the middle, or each boys hugging a smaller munchkin. I can still feel the weight of each of my sons when they were handed to me. Longing has officially set in.

I have always known that 2 was not the number for us. But yesterday, for the very first time, I began to feel that our family was very distinctly incomplete.

Someone is missing. How many someones, how old, when...??...ultimately, I do not know. But God does. And someday--probably soon--I will, too.

Contest Prize!

So, I have been considering a lot of ideas for a prize for my guess-the-referral-date contest. It's tough because you, my friends, have so many unique backgrounds.

I found this great Etsy shop recently, and I love it! Whether you have adopted domestically or internationally, or have bio kids, or all of the above--there is something there for you. I love that you can customize your colors and words, and add dates to the back of the pendants.

And if it's not your style, well...I'll just pop a $20 Target gift card in the mail for ya. How 'bout that? ;)

You can make or edit your guess until November 5th.

I Don't Know What Tomorrow Will Bring...

But I do know that today brought a lot of good things...

Like tonight's Halloween recital.
Ashenafi dressed as Wolverine. Here's a posed shot of him afterward, because when you are the piano teacher and the mom, you don't get a lot of photos during the event.

The desserts were a hit. I wish I had a photo of the whole spread, but this is about all that was left at the end of the night. Hubby had already started cleaning up the rest of the table.


Then there was Ash's race.
He ran the 1/4-mile. Last year, he placed 7th out of 60-70 kindergartners. He was so excited this year. Here he is before the race.

And here he is after. What a trooper. He tripped and fell right at the beginning. He picked himself back up and managed to use the last 50 seconds or so to catch up with the pack. He did not place, but he handled it really well.
"That seemed really fast, Mom. I'm not even tired. Can I do it again?"

A lot of good things happened this week, too.
Cheru and I spent a lot of time together. He had a nasty cold, and I had a lot of things to do to get ready for the recital and also impending company. The other day, he got a hold of the camera, and I saw the world through his eyes. Here he is, boogers and all.

And here I am, looking like a haggard wreck. Twice.

The weather was gorgeous.
You read that right. The weather, in October, in Houston, was gorgeous. I know. Small miracles. We've been on a lot of walks with a lot of blue cloudless skies.

We even decorated for Halloween.
We haven't done this for the past two Halloweens because of all the at-home stress. I felt like, with this small step, that we really were finally moving forward. To what, we may not know. But shouldn't we embrace each step of each day, even if we don't know the ultimate destination?

Great things happened last weekend, too.
Ash received his first real Bible at church.
As you may know from reading this blog, the boys are slightly obsessed with their Bibles. They each have their own kid's Bible, but this is a real NIV with large print and a few pictures here and there. He is so proud.

(Below, Noah and me waiting for Kai to receive his Bible.)

The past two weeks have brought an enormous amount of
movement on the wait lists.
The boys and I made our wait list paper chains.

When you hold them up side-by-side (infant girls on the left, siblings on the right), it sure seems like a no-brainer, but you never know what God is planning.

Incidentally, these are not up-to-date. We are now somewhere around #22 on the girls list and somewhere around #4 on the sibling list. Those are unofficial numbers, but I should have new concrete official numbers in around 10 days.

A lot of great things have been going on outside in the gorgeous weather that I already mentioned.

And I guess I was just thinking...
I really don't know what tomorrow will bring.
I can plan for tomorrow. I can dream about tomorrow. I can send my petitions fervently up to God about tomorrow.
But tomorrow isn't ever guaranteed.

And there's something to be said for choosing not to worry so much about tomorrow...

And just resting in the moment.