The Balancing Act

How are you guys? 

This is the question we get asked all the time these days, and sometimes I don't quite know how to answer.

The truth is, we are surviving, we are alive, we are fed, we have shelter, cars to transport us, and family and friends surrounding us, and a God who sees us and loves us. In all honesty, for the most part, we are good.

But it's all relative right?

This past year was our hardest year yet, and each time we encountered something hard, a job loss, a baby loss, possible loss of Peter's life, it felt hard, but God always showed Himself in the trial, in the trauma, in the pain. He was faithful and we saw that faithfulness. 

And I think if I'm incredibly honest with myself and with those who ask the question, the answer would most likely be different, filled with pain and heartbreak, acknowledging that this feels like the hardest thing we've done yet. Yet the answer would also be laced with hope, trust, grace, and stories of God's faithfulness and His provision, all because of what we've walked through this past year, all because of what we've witnessed with our own eyes. 

And I'd probably mention something about the balancing act and how hard that feels. 

Yes, this isn't our first NICU rodeo as we've had a baby there for a few weeks before, but what feels incredibly foreign to me is navigating having a child in the hospital for three long months while also navigating having other children at home, and not just one child but two! 

And in all honesty, it's interesting as we've heard stories from other families who have had micropreemies, but all of those babes have been their first borns!! And who knows what's harder to be honest. I can't imagine walking this journey with my first and the anxiety that would most likely come from getting pregnant again knowing the journey with the second could be a similar one!!

I don't know what that journey is like. I only know mine. And I've never had to balance caring for other children and doing daily life with drop offs and pick ups and grocery runs and other random runs and making sure everyone has food to eat and clothes to wear. And oh yeah, that's right, we have a baby in the NICU. We should probably go see him. (In all honesty, we visit Conor nearly every day.)

I've never walked the c-section road to recovery while having other children in my midst. And I've never had to explain to those other children, mainly the 3 year old, that baby brother is no longer living in my tummy, but rather living outside of my tummy and sleeping at the hospital as he gets big and strong. 

And I've never had to wonder how you invite those children, Conor's siblings, into this story, into his birth story? Or how you celebrate Conor's coming home when the time does come? 

And yes, the balancing act of Conor's hospital stay and the reality of his birth story, feel like the hardest things right now, but it's something I feel like we're always dealing with right, regardless of the season of life we're in? We're always asking ourselves, how do we find time to do it all? 

How do we find the time to go to the hospital, to spend time with our other two boys, to spend time together, to spend time with friends, to spend time alone, and in all of that, to spend time with the Lord? And how do we honor each other's time in such a way that creates space for healing and relationship and laughter and joy. 

But then I think, these are questions we're always asking ourselves, maybe not so much the hospital one, but the others most definitely. And these are the questions we will continue to ask ourselves even after Conor comes home. The balancing act will still remain, and then we'll be trying to figure out a new balance and a new rhythm of having three kids under our roof. 

And who knows what comes next after Conor's coming home? The additional doctors appointments and weight check ins, physical therapy, occupational therapy, and visits with other specialists. 

There is so much uncertainty with what awaits us, but I'm okay with the uncertainty. I'm okay with the waiting and anticipating. I can sit in that space because I trust and know Conor is in good hands and he is getting incredible care! 

And I'm okay with the balancing act because I know just who is writing Conor's story. 

And I trust the author of that story will give us wisdom and peace as we lean into Him to find our Heavenly balance. 

Perspective

Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful. Hebrews 10:23

It feels incredibly surreal to be back at UW and the same NICU where Jack (my 5 year old) was born at 33 weeks 6 days. I never thought I'd have so many preemies, and I just figured my preemie story would start and end with Jack.

But here we are again with an even tinier baby!

Part of me is grateful he's not my first born nor is he my first preemie. We've walked this path before, and I know this road. I'm familiar with this road, the road's just a whole lot longer this time around. 

But because of my history with walking this path, I can see the path clearly now. And I know the difference time makes. I know the difference each day, each lb, each ounce, each gram makes. And I have a different perspective the second time around. 

Yes, it was hard to have Jack in the NICU for 20 days and to not be able to bring him home with me, but it was only 20 days. And I look at him now and I can't believe the giant kid in front of me ever fit into this preemie outfit (and this photo was taken like 2 years ago!).

And I know I'll say the same for Conor, I can't believe he ever fit into those preemie outfits or into those tiny micropreemie diapers. And yes, of course it was hard to have him in the NICU for X amount of days and it's truly only by the grace of God that any of us survived those days, but it was only X amount of days when you look at the years we have with him!

And we've now entered uncharted territory as Conor has surpassed the 26 day mark in the NICU, and we've never journeyed this far with a babe as Jack was discharged on the 20th day of his stay (a day shy of 37 weeks).

Conor obviously has a much longer road to recovery, and he'll most likely be in the NICU till his due date which is July 3, maybe he'll come home sooner or maybe he'll be there even longer? 

We really don't know. 

But I can tell you what I do know. 

I know recovery from a c-section.

I know the pain that comes from sitting up to pump and the pain that comes from laughing, all in the name of c-section recovery. 

I know the NICU visits.

I know what it's like to leave the hospital without a baby. 

I know the empty arms.

I know the endless pumping, every three hours, even in the middle of the night, just as if baby was in your home. 

I know the middle of the night wake ups to bottle feed.

I know the joy that comes with each milestone and the tremendous satisfaction that comes with watching them grow and thrive in the hospital and outside of it.  

I know the difference time makes.

And I'm thankful for my past experience, for God's grace amidst it all as I can look back on that now, and I can see God's hand in it all, preparing me for such a time as this, reminding me that He is faithful.

And I can look at my two older boys and know there will come a time when we will buckle Conor into his carseat and drive away from the hospital. 

There will come a time when Conor will sleep under our roof, and there will come a time when he will sleep through the night. 

There will come a time when I'm not pumping like a mad woman (crossing my fingers he transitions to the breast just like Jack did!).

And there will come a time when he will no longer wear diapers.

There will come a time when he will be running around and chasing after his brothers. 

And there will come a time, all too soon, this I know from experience, when he will become Mr. Independent, feeding himself, dressing himself, buckling his carseat himself, demanding to do all the things himself.

And we wait, just as we waited for Jack, for Conor to hit all those necessary milestones before his coming home. 

And today that coming home day feels really far away, yet we remember that He who promised is faithful.

And even if we have to wait 100 days before we bring him home, He is still faithful. 

And there is so much beauty in the waiting. 

Thank you Jesus for this beautiful perspective and for the eyes to see Your grace, Your hope, Your faithfulness in the waiting, and amidst all of these precious life moments.

Introducing Conor Christopher Drennan

 

So the newest and littlest member of our family, Conor Christopher Drennan decided to join us this past Saturday night, April 14th, at 8:35 PM, at 28 weeks and 4 days, weighing in at 1 lb 10 oz. 

You're probably thinking what?? Malia had her baby? How did this happen? 

Welp it's true, Drennan Baby no 3 is officially outside of the womb, and I am no longer pregnant. And if I'm honest, every part of me is still in shock and it just feels so incredibly surreal. I can't even believe he's not inside me anymore. I never ever would have written this story for him or for our family, nor would I have ever dreamed I'd have a baby at 28 weeks and 4 days. But things don't always go as we had planned, that's for sure. 

I'll write so much more about his birth story later, but for now, let's just say what began as a routine ultrasound at 1 PM at Northwest Hospital on Saturday, soon led to an ambulance ride to UW and an emergency c-section only hours later. He weighed in at 1 lb 10 ounces, and I don't even know if they measured his length! I thought Jack was small weighing in at 4 lbs 2 ounces, and even Ryan seemed tiny at 5 lbs 11 ounces, but Conor is definitely the tiniest human I have ever laid my eyes and hands on. 

After Ryan's birth story, I dreamed my preemie days were over, and I just figured Jack would be my only, but little did I know just what and who awaited us. My Dr. and I had even talked about the possibility of carrying Conor to my due date or even past my due date, and I remember thinking, I have no idea what that's like! 

But let's just say I have no idea what this is like, to have a baby so early, to have a micropreemie. Yes, I am a preemie mom, and I have had a baby in this very same NICU but a baby born at 33 weeks and 6 days like Jack and one born at 28 weeks and 4 days like Conor is so incredibly different. And I'm only beginning to scratch the surface of that difference. 

And I'm on day 6 in the hospital myself, but I officially signed my discharge forms today (Thursday), and I will be going home in a few hours. However, Conor's road to home will be a longer one than mine. 

He's so tiny and I'm not able to hold him yet, and as the nurse showed me how to place my hands on his head and on his feet, I just talked to him. Told him how much we loved him and how proud I was of him! Just poured out my heart and fully leaned in to the emotions.

And as I stood there touching him, my NICU memories came flooding back. I remembered just how long the days felt, just how hard it was to drive home in my car without a baby in my arms or in my home. And I remembered my heavy heart, but I also remembered the milestones, the countless things we celebrated each and every step of the way on Jack's road to coming home, and we're already doing the exact same thing with Conor. And I remember the beautiful way our people, our community, our family celebrated those milestones with us, the way they held us up when we were weak, the way they filled our empty arms with hugs and food and so much love.  

So I stand here now, looking over this 1 lb baby, thanking God for this time, for the time that we'll have together just the two of us, for the milestones that he's already surpassed, and for the ones that will come. And I'm just so proud of him, of how much he's already overcome. My heart swells with pride for him now, and he's only been outside of the womb a week, imagine how I'll feel when I finally hold him, or in two weeks time when he's that much older gestationally, or when I come in and see that he weighed in at 2 lbs, or that he passed his brain scan meaning there's no brain damage, or when I'm able to bottle feed him or try breastfeeding him fully knowing he's working so hard to do both of those things! This kid is fighting for his life. And what an honor it is to be right there with him in the journey.

Needless to say, Conor's journey will be a long one, but the nurses and Drs say he is feisty and fierce! And we are in the really early days yet. I can't even wait to witness how his story unfolds, to see how God uses this story to reveal his character and his strength, to see how the Lord molds and shapes all of us through Conor and his life as we watch him grow. May He be glorified through it all!

Thank you Jesus for this baby, for his unique birth story. May he grow to be big and strong and in a few months time, may we look back on his early days in awe at how far this teeny tiny human has come as we're reminded of just how miraculous of a Creator you truly are!

NICU Stays run in the Family

To My sweet, sweet Ryan,

As I type this you are in the NICU at Children's hospital. I can't believe this is happening again. It seems so surreal.

I haven't even gotten around to posting your birth story or your brother's two year post, but I couldn't let this moment pass me by.

On your 4 week birthday you were admitted to children's hospital as you had a terrible cough and were having some trouble breathing.

Your nose was so stuffy and you had been sleeping pretty much all day and eating so little. And when you coughed I would panic seeing as it was hard to get you to stop coughing once you started.

I knew something wasn't right, so I called the pediatrician's office yet again for the third time over the past few days. And the receptionist heard you coughing and said bring him in ...be here by 2:10. It was 1:30.

I automatically called Peter and cried. I knew something was wrong and I told Peter that we were on our way to the Dr's office and we would most likely be going to children's.

I knew.

Call it mama instinct, intuition, whatever, but I knew where this appointment with the Dr. would eventually lead us.

You would think then that I would have put a jacket on or that I would have packed some food considering I hadn't eaten since breakfast, but all I could think about was getting that baby to the Dr.

And once there, and once she saw your coughing fits, I knew she was concerned for your oxygen levels.

So on to the emergency services area of Children's we went. And I called your grandparents (my parents) on the way to the hospital and I held it together when talking to your grandpa (my dad), but as soon as I heard grandma's voice (my mom's), I just lost it. I couldn't believe this was happening again. I knew he was going to be just fine, but it just felt so unfair that we would have to go through all of this again.

And the tears continued as I hung up the phone with her and I could see your dad looking at me in his review mirror as we were in separate cars and that just made me cry even harder!

Once there, they hooked you up to monitors and stuck an iv into your little foot. And examined you and flushed out your sinuses. And you cried and coughed and coughed some more, and I just watched stunned that this was all happening again. It felt so surreal and I think I was a little in shock.

I held it all together for a few hours, and then when they put the oxygen thing on you and after too many hours of hearing you cough and feeling so helpless, I lost it. Your dad and I just looked at each other with tears in our eyes, and just held hands, and cried.

There's nothing quite like watching your baby be poked and prodded by Dr's and nurses as he coughs his head off. I just wanted to reach out and touch you and comfort you and stroke your head and hold your hand and whisper sweet nothings into your ears.

And eventually I did, but still. It's not quite the same. This I know. It's not quite the same as holding you free of all the cords. And when they told me I wouldn't be able to breastfeed you, that I would again need to pump, that they would most likely be feeding you through a feeding tube, the tears streamed down my cheeks again. I should have known this, I should have expected this, but I didn't even think about it.

And here I thought, since you were my full term, vaginal birth baby boy, the one I brought home from the hospital the day after he was born, I think I thought you were immune to NICU stays and getting sick. But alas, turns out you have bronchilitis and RSV. And guess who was diagnosed with bronchitis last week...this mama!

Anyways, my heart literally breaks when I think about you there. You are in such good hands and being taken care of, and this brings me peace. But we miss you.

Your bed was empty last night and so were my arms.

You would think I'd be use to that...or that I would be able to accept it...or that it would be easy for me since I've been through this before, but let me tell you...it's not.

And it feels like deja vu...different year, different NICU, different child. 

But as your grandma said (Peter's mom)...It's the same God! And may I never forget the truth behind those words.

It is the same God. He is always there in every situation.

And this we know. As He has shown himself in so many ways through our community or rather our little village because let me tell you it does take a village! The love and support and words of encouragement and meals and people wanting to help has been simply overwhelming and brings me to tears when I think about how incredibly blessed our family is.

You my sweet boy are so deeply loved not only by your Creator but also by your village!

And yes, I just keep thinking WHY God? Why do we have to go through this again? This feels so unfair. Why does this have to be so hard? Why do these children of ours...oops I mean yours have to have NICU stays? Why do you have to remind us time and time again that these children aren't ours rather that they are yours?

And why is it so easy to forget who you belong to? It's so easy for me to try to control the situation and to try to hold on tight to my ownership over you.

However, true freedom comes in the letting go, in the releasing of. And I release you to the Lord, Ryan...every day, every moment, every breathe I release to Him.

And I'm counting down the days till you are in our home again. Your big brother misses you.

We love you so much!

Now to get your little brother in the car so this mama can have some snuggle time with you before the sun goes down!

xoxo,

Mom

I See You.

I ran across this blog post on facebook about a month ago. I think it was posted on the UW NICU facebook page..And I was intrigued by the title. "I See You."

The words of this NICU nurse were beautiful. Each sentence blew me away and I cry EVERY Single time I read it. Ahh...this just takes me back to the realities of Jack's first three weeks of life in the NICU. And it leaves me thankful that it was only three weeks as so many babies are there for so much longer.

To all those parents who have had preemies and to all those NICU nurses. Know that we see you. We see your compassion. We see your love for us and for our babies. We see your face of understanding. And we thank you!

This is simply too beautiful not to share. Some of my favorite bits are below - but I would encourage you to check out the post in it's entirety.

"I know I don't understand, and I will never understand completely what it is like to be you. Nor, do I pretend to understand what you are going through. But I do want you to know that I get it. I get that having a child prematurely or spending time in the NICU is not what you had planned and it is extremely hard watching your child suffer, feeling so helpless and full of fear. Having a medically fragile child is difficult and you may feel alone, isolated, or invisible. But today, I want you to know that you are not alone. You are not invisible, and that I see you.

I see you rushing into the NICU with your hair pulled back and your sweats on. Bending over at the sink scrubbing your hands with intent, hoping and praying that you made it in time for the 8am feeding. You are beautiful.

I see you as your family and friends visit your child who has now been in the NICU for weeks on end. They ask questions, the wonder, and they sometimes make uninformed or even hurtful comments. They may fail to recognize that this journey is long and hard, not just for your baby, but for you too. You don't get upset. You answer their questions politely, and educate them as best you can, and then you thank them for their concerns. You are amazing.

I see you as you perform diaper changes through all the wires, tubes, and machines. You look beyond all this medical machinery and smile in admiration for your little fighter. You have been through so much, you have seen so much, and you have loved so deeply and abundantly through it all. You are courageous."

It's almost been a year.

As I looked at the blog this morning, I realized it's been a month since my last post, and I have yet to post anything about Jack turning 9 months or 10 months, and now he's on his way to 11 months. 

Maybe because this little man keeps me super busy or maybe it's because I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that he's almost a year old

It's almost been a year.

It's almost been a year since we were told we couldn't go to Ireland for Christmas. 

It's almost been a year since I was hospitalized.

It's almost been a year since Jack's birth.

It's almost been a year since Jack was 4 lbs. 2 ounces and 16.5 inches long.

It's almost been a year since he slept in an incubator.

It's almost been a year since he could fit into preemie clothes.

And so when I watched this beautiful video made by Benjamin Scot, a photograher and filmmaker, about his son's first year of life, I was emotional to say the least.  Their little man weighed in at 1.5 lbs and he was 15 weeks early - and this video captures the beautiful journey through this preemie's first year of life.



While watching this video, all those emotions came flooding back to me.  I remember the emotions of holding him for the first time, and the emotions that came with leaving him at the hospital and driving home every night for 3 weeks without a baby.  And I remember writing about it all here and writing about him coming home here.  And it all seems so surreal now. 

As I watched this video, I just kept thinking...it could have been so much worse.  Jack was just 6 weeks early, and he weighed a little over 4 lbs at birth, and he didn't need oxygen or anything, just a feeding tube, and I was able to hold him that night.  He didn't need surgeries or anything and he was only at the hospital for 20 days.

What a privilege and honor it was to watch this video - to be allowed a glimpse into those first 107 days of Ward's life, and what a privilege and honor it has been to witness the transformation in real life, firsthand with Jack!  It truly is incredible!  God is so good, and these kids are just resilient.  May we never forget just how far they have come.

so much love,

Malia