My Emmazing Grace

I'm late in posting today, but this week's memory happened exactly 6 years ago today. I was pregnant with my second child, gender unknown by choice, and a healthy baby and pregnancy. I was 23 weeks, 4 days pregnant, and an ultrasound just two weeks earlier showed no problems at all.

The night before, I was teaching a childbirth class and just didn't feel well. Couldn't put my finger on anything specific, just not feeling 'right'. I didn't call the doctor, nor do I regret that decision now, because I knew they would just tell me to increase my fluids and get off my feet. I promptly went home and did just that after the class.

I slept well until 5:30 the next morning. It was a Tuesday, and my then three year old, Jessica, woke up. Groggily, I stumble out of bed and go to her. She tells me she can't sleep and that she's hungry. Begrudgingly, I trek down the stairs to get some milk and a banana and proceed to rock her (yes, the rocker was still in her room and we used it happily every night before bed!). It was such a sweet time that I later realized was a gift from God. I had been away from home the night before and didn't get to spend much time with her. I also had never spent the night away from her. Little did I know how much I would treasure those moments with her in the days to come....

After she finished with her early morning snack, we snuggled and rocked some more, and I decided it was time to go back to sleep, or at least try. When we laid down in her bed, I noticed a slight wetness, but thought, "I didn't cough or sneeze" (as sometimes happens to pregnant women).

Strange.

Took care of that issue and decided that maybe if we got in my bed she would go to sleep faster. So, we get all snuggled in Mommy's bed and off to sleep she goes. I turn over and another 'wetness' episode.

Not so good.

When I got up to go to the bathroom, the flood gates opened. I knew immediately what it was.

My water had broken.

I remember saying, begging, pleading,

"No Lord. No. It's not time for this. It's too early".

I called the doctor. (Not Dr. P - who by the way wants to be called Dr. Joe - I was with a different doctor) The midwife was trying to be hopeful and tell me that maybe it was urine I was leaking. I am a nurse, and I knew, in fact, it most certainly was NOT urine, it was amniotic fluid. Once I strongly stated my point, I was told to come straight to the hospital.

I now have a precious, sleeping three year old to wake up again and get dressed. But I was told to stay off my feet until I got to the hospital.

OK.

Sounds great in theory. But it's just not realistic with what had to be done.

So, I trek back up the stairs and get my make-up. Might as well look good, right?

Inside I'm freaking out, but trying to remain calm. For who? Who knows! I was the only one home besides my sleeping Jessica.

I settle in on the sofa to make some phone calls. I tried calling my husband who I couldn't get in touch with. He was going to school/work very early and lifting weights and running on the track. It was too early for the front office to be open, and he didn't have his cell phone with him. This happened between 6:30-7am, and I didn't get in touch with him until almost 9:00. Talk about frustrated!!! That was an understatement!

So, I called my aunt to ask her to pray. I called Gib's sweet Aunt Barbara who lived fairly close by. Keep in mind, it's only 7am, so I'm feeling TERRIBLE about waking people up. But, without one bit of hesitation, Aunt Barbara is getting dressed and on her way. I keep trying my husband, to no avail.

In between phone calls, I'm most certainly trying to get my face put on the best I can - using a powder mirror in a supine position, and don't forget the towel between my legs...... (only women will appreciate this!)

I stayed there as long as I thought I could before waking Jessica up. She was even more of a precious angel in the way she got up and listened so well. I think kids just know when they need to be good and cooperate. This was definitely one of those times, and I was so thankful that she 'got it'.

I grab a bagel and force myself to eat it on the way to the hospital because I have no idea what my day will bring and when I might see real food again. The hospital was only about 20 minutes away. The whole way there I was sad beyond belief, scared to the core because everything I taught in my classes and everything I had read said that once your water breaks, the baby must to be delivered because of the risk of infection. I was terrified, and all I could think was, "I'm going to have a dead baby".

BUT, God was GOOD!

After confirming that my water had definitely broken, the midwife said, "Well, you will be on bed rest until you go into labor or until an infection begins".

What? Excuse me?

It was explained to me that being how early I was in the pregnancy, it was the lesser of the two evils. If she had been born that day, her chances of survival were slim to none. And if she did survive, she would be faced with huge health hurdles. So it was better to be aware and monitor for signs of infection and try to hold off labor as long as possible. (We didn't know the gender and preemie white boys DO NOT do so well. They're actually termed, 'wimpy white boys')

Interesting thing - I was having no contractions and my cervix was long and closed when I got there. The only speculation as to why my water broke so early is that I tested positive for Group B Strep when I was admitted. That infection is very common in pregnant women. It usually doesn't cause a problem because moms who test positive are treated with prophylactic antibiotics to protect the baby.

I was given steroid shots to help mature her lungs, pumped full of several IV antibiotics and put on strict bed rest. FLAT! (except at meal times I could elevate my head a little). Couldn't even get up to the bathroom or to shower. I got a stomach bug while in the hospital (remember, I can't get up!). Had my hair washed twice in the bed and wonderful bed baths every day.

FUN! FUN!

I was willing to do whatever I needed to do to keep her inside of me as long as possible!

They were really hoping, and we were really praying, that I would make it 5 weeks to reach the 28-week mark.

That didn't happen.

God gave me and her 12 days.

Every time they came in to do an ultrasound, there was no fluid around her. The fact that she survived that is a miracle. I always worried about infection and her lung development with no fluid, but God put blinders on me. Never once did I think about her having a cord accident, ie. laying on her cord, since there was nothing to help her 'float'.

The neonatologist, Dr. Leigh, who we LOVE, came in to tell us everything that could possibly be wrong with our premature baby, short and long-term. The list was long and scary, including, but not limited to, cerebral palsy, blindness, deafness, cerebral hemorrhage (bleeding on the brain), infection, necrotizing enterocolitis, retinopathy of prematurity, PDA (hole in the heart that many times requires surgery), pneumonia, long-lasting lung problems/damage, etc.

You get the picture.

They have to prepare you for the worst, but as a parent, you hope for the best.

Keep in mind, again, that we did not know the sex of the baby at that time. We had already picked a name. Grady Thomas if it was a boy, and Emma Grace if it was a girl.

One night as Gib was leaving the hospital with Jessica, I remember him saying, with tears in his eyes, "I kind of hope it's a girl. If she lives and does okay, we can call her our Emmazing Grace".

She IS our Emmazing Grace!

We hoped for more time, but I'm so very thankful for the 12 days we were given. I truly believe that little bit of extra time helped make a huge difference in her outcome, even between life and death. God is still in the business of doing miracles, and we have one that we are proud to call our little girl.

That was my day, six years ago today.

To know how and why she was delivered so emergently on March 16th, you'll have to wait and check back this March 16th. She will be six, and I'll share the rest of her story then......

Love,
Tonya

Let It Snow.....

Oh, the weather outside is frightful.......

But, oh so very delightful!



Snow started falling yesterday around 12:30 and didn't stop until almost dark. We lost power for about three hours in the late afternoon/early evening. It was getting dark, so it was fun to hang out by candle light. I had just pulled out the blankets and sheets for the sleeper sofa, and we had just started a fire when the power came back on. The girls were a little disappointed. We considered still sleeping in the family room, but we weren't sure if Gib's school would be cancelled. (We knew about 8pm last night that the girls' schools were closed.) Since Gib gets up at 4am and since our power was back on, we decided to go ahead and sleep as usual. We're going to have a family night one weekend, build a fire, pop some popcorn, pull out the sleeper, and watch a movie. The girls loved that idea!

Gib checked the internet this morning, bright and early, and fortunately, he got to stay home with us, too! So, at 8am, he, Jessica and Emma Grace were getting dressed to start sledding. I am not a morning person, but I dragged myself out of my warm bed to go outside and have fun with them. I'm SOOO glad that I did!! I wouldn't have wanted to miss this!

Emma Grace had never been sledding before......



Jessica was reliving memories from six years ago, but trying something new this time...



The girls have been in and out today, but its been so nice to have everyone home with me! The sun is shining bright, and the temp is warming up, so we will enjoy it while its here. It doesn't often snow like this in GA!





Love,
Tonya

Running Away At Age Three

Hi friends!

It's time to take another walk down memory lane today. I have so many things I want to post on Wednesdays, but this is what I've chosen for today.

Jessica was our first miracle and blessing from above. She was a healthy, full-term baby and is such a love. She will be 10 in May and has always had such a sweet spirit. She's also kind, gentle, and very funny at times.

This is a memory that I hope to never forget, and in many ways, it feels like it happened yesterday. First, let me introduce you to her when she was three years old.....




This particular summer, I was trying to get in shape, which seems like I'm always trying to do! Aren't we all?!?! I was in my bedroom doing crunches on the exercise ball. I stopped to take a break, still sitting on the ball. This cute, sweet and innocent little girl comes to me, puts her hands on my knees, tilts her head, looks up at me and says, with much drama and emphasis.......



"I can't stay here forever and have my life lived for me".

Surely, I heard her wrong..... "Excuse me, what did you just say?"

Once again, I hear from this sweet, but sassy, little one, with just as much drama, expression, and emphasis as before.....



"I can't stay here forever and have my life lived for me".

There was no way that I could keep a straight face. Needless to say, it was a belly laugh that made everything hurt, accompanied with tears and all.

Of course, I had to know where she had heard such a thing at such a young age. When I asked her, the answer was simple,

"Jasmine on Aladdin".

Apparently we had been watching too much Princess TV!

Let's face it, we all want to be a Princess in some way, complete with glass slippers and all!




Thanks for reading and sharing this fun memory with me today!

Love and blessings,
Tonya

What Kind Of Glasses Are You Wearing?

I'm not talking about your standard eye glasses. You know, bifocals, trifocals, reading glasses, contacts...

Nope.

I'm talking about glasses that help you see into eternity, help you rejoice only in good times and encourage the quietness in bad, or glasses that simply help you see the world according to you.

Let me explain.

We are so blessed to have found a church where absolutely every Sunday we walk away with a deeper understanding of God's purpose in our lives, which results in us feeling closer to Him. Whether your life is going well or you're faced with some sort of trial, it always helps to be able to relate God's word to your situation. It is comforting to know that God is walking with you along your path, whatever hills, valleys, twists and turns that come along on your journey.

Yesterday's message was the second part of a series about the "Soundtrack" of God's story. I felt like the sermon was written just for me.

Louie Giglio is a powerful speaker and has such an incredible way of making the scriptures really come to life in today's world. He focused on the 'midnight hour'. He used the story of Paul and Silas in the book of Acts, chapter 16. He brought up the point that in the times when we're struggling with something, the 'midnight hours' or the darkness, is when we often feel most alone. We get through the 'midnight hours' by:

1. Believing in God
2. Believing in a bigger story than our own.

Instead of sulking and being angry with God when they were beaten and jailed, Paul and Silas began praising God "after the midnight hour", literally in the middle of the night. All of the prisoners heard them.

How in the world does this relate to me? Why am I posting about this?

Louie says we have three kinds of glasses that we wear:

1. Our "Me" glasses - where we view life all about us and nothing else.

2. "Life-colored" glasses - we praise God when things are going well and stop praising when things aren't going the way we desire. According to Louie, in the bad times, "We press pause on the story of God".

3. "God" glasses - where we accept what comes our way as part of God's bigger story that He will use for His good and His glory. We look our hardship right in the face, accept it, and praise God anyway. (Not denying that it will be hard, or accepting that it's what we want - God never said it would be easy to follow Him).

Before Grady died, I really felt like I was wearing "God" glasses. I was so thankful that I had made it past the point of prematurity. I was praising God for a healthy baby. I was praying every day for other struggles in our lives. I felt like my walk with God was good at that point.

Now, insert Grady's death.

I pressed "Pause" in a BIG way. I wish I could honestly say that I kept my "God" glasses on, but not so, my friends, not so! I snatched those things off REAL fast, threw them where the sun don't shine, and put on my "Life-colored" glasses. I didn't like the cards God dealt me and my family. I didn't want to give my baby back. I didn't want to have to tell the girls that their brother had died. I didn't want to live with empty arms that should be full of the sweetness and love of a new baby.

I hated it.

I was angry at God. I couldn't talk to Him. I couldn't think about ever talking to Him again.

But through all of that, deep down, He was the only thing I had to hold onto. I like to describe my relationship with Him in those days as "bittersweet".

I wish that I could say that I kept my "God" glasses on the whole time like Angie Smith. (She, her story, and her unwavering faith were such a testimony to me. More about how she changed my life to come....). I wish so much I could say that it was easy for me to slip those "God glasses" right back on, but it has taken me a while. I can finally say that I'm wearing them again, and my heart is at peace.

I don't like my situation, but I have to learn to live with it. I don't know why Grady's life was so short here on this earth. I don't know why God chose me and my family to endure this pain and heartache.

But, I DO believe in God.

I DO believe in a greater story. The story of God, that will live long beyond my short story is over. I know that God is going to use my experience to help someone else, and I know that He's going to use it for His glory.

That, my friends, is what is supposed to happen in the bigger and much greater "Story of God".

If you'd like to hear the entire sermon, click here. The name of the sermon is "Soundtrack, The Loudest Song".

I hope that you'll choose to wear your "God glasses" when you're faced with your next trial. Or, that you'll choose to slip them back on if you're in the middle of a trial right now. It is not always easy, but it truly is so much easier than trying to walk that dark road alone.

May God bless you today and always!

Love,
Tonya

7 Things Odd And Interesting About Me

Well, I got 'tagged' on a friend's blog to write 7 things odd and interesting (o&i) about myself.

Let's see what I can come up with....

1. If I ever eat a peanut butter and banana sandwich (or peanut butter and jelly), I really need sour cream and onion potato chips with a cold glass of milk to enjoy it to its fullest.

2. When I go to Chick-fil-A, I always get 4 BBQ sauces to put on my sandwich and dip my fries in. I must have 4 - no more, no less.

3. Without artificial hair color, I would be completely, and I do mean COMPLETELY white-headed (just NOT happening for this chick at 36 years of age!!).

4. I had my first child through natural childbirth - no medicine, no epidural - she weighed 8lb. 7oz. Some people find this very odd and strange, but I enjoyed that experience and had hoped to have all of my children that way (God had other plans, though.).

5. When I eat something sweet, it always has to be followed by something salty (to get the sweet taste out of my mouth).

6. I was an ICU nurse for a short time. I could handle blood, guts, and SO much stuff, but my stomach turned when it came to saliva and respiratory secretions.

7. I graduated Suma Cum Laude from nursing school, second in my class.

Hope you enjoyed some o&i things about me.

What are some o&i things about you???? Leave a comment and do share..........

Have a great weekend!

Love,
Tonya

Missing My Boy......

This is not what I planned to write in today's post, but its where my heart is this morning, so I'm going to share. Honestly, as always...

I am missing my sweet Grady with every ounce of my being. I have good days, and I have bad days. The good days are, fortunately, starting to outnumber the bad ones. But even on the good days, as I try to make the best of my days and time with my family, a part of me is missing. Empty. It's very hard to describe, but a piece of my heart feels constantly squeezed with sadness. Not crushing or suffocating like it did in the beginning, but it's always there.

A constant reminder of what I don't have...

I haven't been able to cry for Grady in a long time. I cried a little at his service the end of January, but even then, not too many tears came. For me, at that time, it was something positive to honor him. Even though there was some finality in saying 'goodbye', it felt so good to do something for him.

I'm not sure what it was about last night, but the tears came in a flood. I'm thankful, but it has carried into today. Which doesn't surprise me at all.

As I went to bed, I was hugging his blue blanket (just like any other night), and the flood gates opened. I was sad, mad, frustrated and so confused.

I was sad because he wasn't here.

I was mad because I was holding a blanket instead of him.

I was frustrated because I did everything possible to keep him safe in my womb, but it didn't work, it wasn't enough.

I was confused as to why I wasn't allowed to keep him here with me. Instead I had to give him back to his maker, and in doing that, give up all hopes and dreams I had for him as part of our family.

His room is still the way it was the day he died. When I check on the girls before I go to bed and when I check on the girls in the middle of the night, I pass his room. The thought always comes that "I should have a baby in that room to check on, too". Some would say that I should take the room down. However, it will always be Grady's room, even if it is a room with another purpose.

I'm not ready to put his things away yet...

I feel at times that very well-meaning people try to minimize my grief for him. "Well, at least you still have two beautiful children". And THANK GOD for my two beautiful children. They are what helped pull me through those first very dark weeks after Grady died. They were my reason for literally pulling myself out of bed every day.

But what people need to understand, is that even though Grady was a baby who didn't live outside my womb, he was his own person. He lived vibrantly inside of me. Did I mention that he was his own person? The girls cannot take his place, just like Grady could never take their place.

My grief is for him. For what he meant to me. For what he represented in our family. For what we don't get to experience with him. For my little boy who became an angel before I got to play with him.

My grief is for Emma Grace, who so badly wanted to be a big sister to a real live baby.

My grief is for Jessica, who wanted to help play mommy with me.

My grief is for Gib that he doesn't have a little football player to coach.

My grief is that a member of our family will forever be missing......

Thanks for listening to my heart today.

Love,
Tonya

Walkin' on Wednesday

Wednesdays are always sad days for me. Hard as I try, sadness always creeps into my soul. That was the day that I found out that Grady was gone. I tend to relive every minute of Wednesdays, from morning to night.

I found a wonderful blog yesterday with this idea. I thought it would be a great way to try to turn my frown upside down.

Every Wednesday you take a walk down memory lane, hence the name "Wednesday Walk". You can write about anything. Go here to read how it all started and officially participate.

I give this wonderful woman full credit for coming up with this idea, but I've decided every Wednesday, I'll post a memory and try to start a memory book for my family as well.

I had a hard time thinking of what I was going to write, but I was talking about my dad this morning at the gym and this story popped into my head.

My dad, Barry, was a very funny man. He loved his beer, too! Sometimes a little too much. (Rolling Rock was his favorite - even named his band after it). Unfortunately, he died when I was 13 years old.

One summer night, my mom was watching the Braves (as in Atlanta), one of her favorite past-times. It was dusk, and as I walked from the breakfast room into the family room, I glanced out the back window. The following conversation took place.

Me: "Uh, Mom, is there a reason the backyard is on fire?"

Mom, very calmly, "What do you mean the back yard is on fire?"

Me: "I mean the backyard is on fire. Come look."

She moves faster than I think I've ever seen her move, sees the spectacle in the backyard and immediately calls 911.

When my parents bought that house, they had 42 pine trees removed from the backyard. The stumps had apparently gotten to be too much for my dad to cut around with the lawn mower. After having a few brewskies, he got the brilliant idea to burn those stumps. All at one time!

I was freaking out thinking the fire was going to come and burn our house down. The neighbors on both sides and behind us all had their water hoses pointed toward our yard to control the fire.

I hear the sirens coming to our house. My dad is no where to be found.

After the fires were extinguished, my dad slowly comes creeping out from behind the woodpiles in the far corner of the yard. My mom is furious. That's probably an understatement.

When my dad is questioned as to why he is hiding, he says, "I dropped the gas can when I lit one of those stumps, and I thought I was going to get blown up".

I need to add that my dad was terribly scared of snakes. Can't say that I blame him though - I'd take a snake bite over getting blown up, too!

I remember going back to school and having to write a story about something that happened over summer break. I'm sure there were other things to write about, but I chose that experience. I called it "Barry's Backyard Burnout".

That's definitely an experience that I'll never forget!

PS. Lynnette, my favorite game that I used to play with my dad, was TROUBLE. My girls and I love to play it now, too! I think they really just like popping the center button!!

Love,
Tonya