Yes, we are beyond EMPTY and the car has stalled. It is so hard to write when times are tough because I don't want to poop on every one's day. Usually either Mike and I are up when the other is down. This time we are both at rock bottom. Just completely drained. Feeling like there is no way we can keep going. It's been a hard couple of weeks for me. I'm feeling so empty myself that it is hard to give anything to anyone, especially my children and family. I keep thinking that I will wake up the next morning feeling energized and like I can keep going. And yet, morning after morning, I have to force myself out of bed and to do what needs to be done. Numb and robotic. My head knows I need to capitalize on my mom being here and get things done that need to be done. Things that are much easier to do without children. : ) And yet, nothing. Thankfully she is here and helping keep my house in order and things going. I don't know that I could do the same at this point.
Emma's surgery is scheduled for Tuesday. They moved it back because it wasn't fitting into the schedule. My mom is leaving Friday and Mike's mom is coming for the weekend. This will be a huge help. Then we will be on our own for awhile, which is fine. We'll manage.
Emma is weighing 6 lb. 7 oz. She is really gaining weight well. Olivia weighs 7 lb. 6 oz. They are both very sweet! and I still long for the day that they are together for the first time outside of the womb. I'm praying that Emma will be off the ventilator quickly. Her primary nurse seemed to think that she might be on it for a little while. She just wants us to be prepared for that. Emma's eyes are looking better but are still not completely formed. She will continue to be checked until they are. Her kidney test came back good for no reflux so they stopped those meds. Her calcium is still high so they are still baffled. We are looking at anywhere between 2 weeks til who knows when for her to come home. A lot will depend on how fast she comes off of the ventilator. Please let that be your biggest concern in prayer. We have come so far and are so close that we don't want anything holding us back from having our girl home with us. Alyssa asked why I was crying today. I just tell her that I miss Emma. I told Mike maybe we are both so empty and on the down so that next week when we need to strong, we will be. Maybe that is our up.
Well, I'm going to help get the kids to bed. I will try to send pictures with the next blog.
Love to you all!
Thanks for the prayers!!
Bethany
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5 comments:
Lord, lift up Mike and Bethany and let them rest in the peace that YOU are their strength and their perseverence. They need not feel the responsibility of taking care of things, since it is in Your hands. We lift up the four girls to You, Father God! Give Emma the fight that You've given her in the past so she may come home to her mama and daddy and sisters! We ask these things in Your glorious name- Amen
Bethany and family,
Tons of us are praying that your awesome faith holds you and Mike close together, your mental and medical health stay well and that you remember there are so many of us sending you our love and prayers!
Ms.T.
God, I pray that you will give the girls a creative miracle in their bodies. I pray for your will to be done, your plan, purpose and place. I pray that you will grant the desires of Bethany and Mike's heart. In your name, Amen
Love you and we are praying!
The Race
by D. H. Groberg
Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,
excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race
or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son,
and each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one.
The whistle blew and off they flew, like chariots of fire,
to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.
One boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd,
was running in the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.”
But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip,
the little boy who thought he’d win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his arms flew everyplace,
and midst the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.
As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn’t win it now.
Humiliated, he just wished to disappear somehow.
But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win that race!”
He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,
and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
his mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.
He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”
But through the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face
with a steady look that said again, “Get up and win that race!”
So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last.
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast!”
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten...
but trying hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.
Defeat! He lay there silently. A tear dropped from his eye.
“There’s no sense running anymore! Three strikes I’m out! Why try?
I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought. “I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.
“Get up,” an echo sounded low, “you haven’t lost at all,
for all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
Get up!” the echo urged him on, “Get up and take your place!
You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!”
So, up he rose to run once more, refusing to forfeit,
and he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,
still he gave it all he had and ran like he could win.
Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.
They cheered another boy who crossed the line and won first place,
head high and proud and happy -- no falling, no disgrace.
But, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, in last place,
the crowd gave him a greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,
you would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
“To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.”
And now when things seem dark and bleak and difficult to face,
the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
And when depression and despair shout loudly in my face,
another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race!”
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