"The Gift of Presence"

Recently this article was published. I go deep here, hit the spiritual elements of our journey, and land on one solid truth: sometimes what we need more than anything else is someone to walk with us in pain and joy, in hurt and triumph.  I learned this through three simple words, spoken in to my soul. I was still pregnant, crying out to God, and more than anything else I wanted to hear, "this baby will live" or "don't worry." But I didn't hear that. Instead, my soul's ears heard a steadying and merciful, "I am here."

If you want to read more, the article, "The Gift of Presence" is here (published by Banner magazine).

You can also read more about elements of the story as published in the article in these posts from this blog:

• About crying out & giving over, when night fell
• Spiritual support on the cusp of viability
• About giving him his name, Jonathan
• Heart surgery
• Gut surgery
• Surgery just before due date
• Coming home

As I read through this article today my first thought was "ugh! a typo!"
And then I got feedback from friends, positive at that, and I thought perhaps I should re-read it.  A second reading reminded me just how blessed and surrounded we were. We were exhausted. I soaked up every ounce of those blessings and rang them out on Jonathan and then greedily looked for more blessings to soak in. Steve plodded on, focusing on the next step and acting as a strong pole for me to lean on when I crumbled, and J -- JAM knew no different. This is how life had always been. We needed and coveted your prayers and gifts, and sometimes we were sure we were completely burned out, but somehow we were sustained. Thank you. Thank you so much. Two years out almost, and it is still hard to remember, hard to believe how our world so quickly changed. But in it all, we were supported. Thanks.

Happy Birthday Virginia Apgar.

If I could have tea with anyone from the 20th century, I'd pick Virginia Apgar. Analytical and compassionate, she is my hero.

I discovered Virginia Apgar when I was sitting in on a medically themed Adventures in Ideas seminar at the University of North Carolina seven or eight years ago. In so many ways she paved the foundation for neonatal and maternal fetal medicine practices today. And she did so in an era when female medical doctors were uncommon. I wish I'd known her.

In many ways, thanks to her work, my son lives.

She saved babies with numbers.  For more on her work and my absolute adoration for her, see this recent post on Hand to Hold's blog.

Happy Birthday, Virginia Apgar. Born 105 years ago tomorrow.

The Runner

If you know me, then you will not be surprised that on an early autumn day a year and a half ago, healing from a c-section scar, I noticed a runner and at first I mourned.

I'm not particularly fit, but I love running. It is a banya for my soul. Each step, each mile has me beating my soles like birch twigs in a sweat house. I am cleansed as toxins housed deep in my heart and head are brought forth and released through tiny pores, flushed down the drain by a refreshing post-run shower. My heart rate regulates, my temper calms, and I can be more the person I wanted to be.

Once I could do it, running became a part of my self-prescribed therapy and a reference point for how far I'd come after being thrust into the life of difficult-to-digest emotions, the life of parenting a severely premature baby.

So look back with me, will you? See a glimpse of the runner that I saw as I drove into the NICU that warm September day. The story has been posted in two parts.
Part one
Part two

In the end the moment reminded me that even when you feel you're treading an unknown and lonely path, often there are footprints of those that went before you, if you take a second glance.

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The full story can be found on differentdream.com. A warm thank you Jolene and the rest of the crew at differentdream.com for wanting to include my story on their blog for parents of special needs children.