I never grew up camping with my family. My parents exposed us to other forms of adventure the lake, beach, Disney, and a big trip to Mexico, where I got my bangs breaded with red, white, and blue beads. If I think of myself as a child, I was a bit of an oddball. I was messy, dirty, creative, and from what I remember, happy. To me, my adult self feels distant from that free spirit. Perhaps it’s the result of adulthood, parenthood, or marriage, or maybe I am the real me now and wasn’t when I was younger; who knows. I guess the self is constantly evolving. I have seen glimmers of childhood me come back to life since moving to Oregon. Living in NYC for 13 years really can make you forget about how beautiful trees can be or nature altogether. Don’t get me wrong; I am a glamper at best. My entire family squishes together in one tent while I sleep on a cot more comfortable than my mattress at home, and we never skimp in the food department. On this last trip, Tyler grilled us elk burgers with salad and brought heart beans and a pour-over for the morning. The temps were perfect, and the kids had an amazing time swinging on Andrew’s hammock, kayaking, fishing, and throwing sticks in the fire. It was Amo’s first trip. He was great, but he will not be invited back until he doesn’t drink milk every 3 hours and can change his own diaper:)

Camping grounds you: the dirt, the silence, the fire, and the sky. Unloading all of your life’s possessions for 12 hours just in time to need to reload ha. I am excited for our family to have access to so many great adventures together.

My sweetest Simon turned four years old early this June. We celebrated with friends in our back garden with hotdogs, cake, and a pinata.
Simon is an old soul. He is peculiar, silly, and excentric. He’s shy around new folks but loud and boisterous when he feels comfortable. Simon is careful, and he is cautious. Simon exudes joy everywhere he goes. He loves to bake with me, pick flowers, play baseball, His Golden Messenger, his new friend Zephyr, and most of all his new brother Amos. Simon finishes every single sentence with ……right? His voice is so high-pitched it could crack a pane of glass. His current favorite outfit is his pirate pants with his preschool shirt. He is a super clever guy. He is kind, and sweet, and sensitive. Tyler and I prayed that he would grow in confidence this year. That prayer was answered ten-fold.

He calls himself my medium-sized baby. Simon has grown leaps and bounds this year. I will never forget his third year of life and what a delight he was. I wish he could stay little forever, but alas, one more year down and closer to that not being my reality. I love you, my Si.

So much has happened in the past few months that it all feels like a flurry of commotion. My family drove to Ohio, and Van was in the hands of some of the most prestigious doctors at one of the highest-rated heart hospitals in the world Clevland Clinic. Most importantly, Van received his third SUCCESSFUL open-heart surgery. During his surgery, he received a new flesh aortic valve which replaced his mechanical one. After opening his chest, they found no evidence of infection seen previously on scans. (This was huge, and we firmly believe that the infection was healed before surgery). Van has been recovering at my parent’s house back in Franklin and doing amazingly. His body feels better so far with the new valve. The road ahead remains a challenge. He continues to face ups and downs, but for today we are so thankful.
As for Amos, his little heart is doing great! He had his last echocardiogram weeks ago. Heart echos will be routine for us to check in periodically, ensuring that all infection stays at bay and there are no leaking valves etc.
Our family is exhausted and thankful as we look ahead, anticipating and hopeful for no bumps in the road as both Van and Amos recover.

Christ Is Risen

In 2007 I spent a year living in Glyfada, Greece. Celeste, my friend, and I traveled all around–Germany, Morocco, Egypt, Italy, and London. We never seemed to mind living on our tight budget, eating scrambled eggs and rice as our main staple meals. We went by boat to various Greek islands on the weekend, taking in all of the sights and sounds. I turned 18 on a Ferris wheel on the banks of the Mediterranean Sea as the day turned to night. The year came with magical moments of independence and freedom.

The most memorable part of the adventure was celebrating the Lenten season. The Greeks do it BIG. Lent was kicked off with Fat Tuesday. We feasted over nine NINE bottles of wine, ate lamb until our hearts were content, and broke a stack of white pristine china plates on the living room floor. Maundy Thursday was marked by the washing of feet and the remembrance of Jesus and his disciples. The morning of Good Friday was a gloom I felt in my bones. The city was sleepy and eerie, and women and men dressed in black as they walked the streets only to the tune of mourning bells that chimed from churches.

On Easter morning, I sipped coffee on our flats porch, hearing shouts of praise, laughter, and joy reaming from balconies. The celebration continued with more wine and lamb throughout the day. We walked the streets with candles in hand into the night, shouting Christos Anesti, Alithos Anesti. Christ is Risen. He is Risen Indeed!

Yesterday, I sipped my coffee while feeding Amos with the most beautiful view of green mossy trees and tulips blooming outside. Don’t be fooled; this serenity was ONLY possible because my inlaws had Si and Hank at the hotel with them:) I am usually a human jungle gym in the mornings with all three boys on my lap hooked to a pump, feeding the baby and reading a book to the boys. At church, we celebrated with coffee and donuts, new salvation, and baptisms. We had a quick picnic in the park for lunch, and Mimi hid some eggs in our backyard for the boys. It was a beautiful celebration of our Risen King.

As I mentioned earlier, the latter part of our stay at Randalls was the most challenging. After 24 days, we were told we could go home. It felt like Christmas morning. I excitedly woke up that Wednesday morning darted to Euko (the coffee shop we went to while in the hospital) and told the barista today was the day we got to bring Amos home. Our room was busy with appointment after appointment and so much information before we could go home. One of my favorite moments of the day was putting clothes on Amos for the first time and unhooking his two final wires to place him into his car seat. Freedom! We went home, and Tyler fetched the boys from spring break camp to come home and meet their brother for the first time. Hank and Si were adorable and fell in love with their brother from the get-go. That night we toasted with friends celebrating and welcoming him into our home. It was a day I will always treasure. A few days after being home our friend Alyssa snapped these photos. I am forever grateful to capture this insane season.

I hate some of these photos but I want to always be reminded of God’s goodness, the miracle of medicine, and how far we have come.

After Amos’s heart operation, he went straight to the pediatric intensive care unit. There was little Tyler, and I could do as he was on the vent, on a feeding tube, and super sedated. The list of medications he was on made my stomach turn. I asked the nurse one day about the potential adverse side effects of one, and she told me it could cause hearing loss. That was the. last time I asked. I decided the less I knew, the better. Each day Amos was in the PICU, my heart felt heavier and became more and more torn as to how to spend my time. Almost every emotion felt new and foreign to me. I danced between trying to be there with Hank and Si at every opportunity and making sure Amos wasn’t left alone as much as possible. The thought of Amos in pain grew more excruciating by the day.

I began to fixate on small things like is he thirsty? Is he bored looking at the same image above? Will he be impaired knowing he hasn’t shifted positions in the first 25 days of his life? Does he feel scared? Does he feel alone? All of these questions haunted me. His body didn’t look like his. I briefly mentioned to Van about being on his back. He said angels His eyes and ears were swollen shut for four days straight. I tried my best to touch him, talk to him, and Linda, a nurse, and I even got him a little music box for entertainment.

On a positive note, his nurses were out of this world, impeccable. I received complimentary meals while I was there, and they welcomed parent involvement at any opportunity. Whenever I wasn’t at the hospital, I could call and check-in, making me feel more secure with his care.

After the PICU, Amos was transferred back to the NICU. I anticipated this being the joyful part of the journey. This was a sign we were getting closer to going home!! I would get to hold him in the NICU! I was wrong. Wrong. The last portion of his recovery was by far the most challenging. As Amos began to look more like himself, I became antsier and antsier for him to get home. He got his chest tubes out in the NICU, taken off the vent, his wound vac checked and cleaned, and was tapered off his narcotics day by day. I held him often (with the help of many nurses) and even helped with his sponge bath each night.
With every diaper I changed, the more attached I became, and the more I anticipated him coming home. After most tubes and lines were out, we waited on one thing. It seemed simple, but it wasn’t for him to learn to eat. They kept his feeding tube in, and each day we focused on getting as much milk in his little body as possible. Every little ml was documented. Attempting to nurse him went out the window, knowing it would suck all of his energy and then be too tired to take in the milk. I focused on pumping and feeding him with a bottle giving him little breaks to regain his energy.

One morning Dr. Sweeny said it could take him a few more days to learn or maybe a few more weeks. It was pertinent he could take in a specific volume before pulling the tube. I felt helpless. I can not do this for a few more weeks, I thought. I hated this place; this dark room, the beeping, and even the interactions with the nurses started to get under my skin. After my conversation with the doctor, I escaped for 10 minutes to church. It was a bust. I didn’t want to be there. I felt angry. I got back in the car. I prayed. I asked God for change. A few hours later, I begged them to let us have a new feeding plan. They agreed (PRAISE GOD).
Amos did so much better on this plan. So much so he ripped his own feeding tube out. I begged them not to put it back in, and sure enough, they never needed to! Though bumps still happened, we were on the up and up, and it felt good. They transferred us to a room with a window that night (also praise God). What massive difference sunlight makes; Tyler joined me for a hospital date with pasta, wine, and a show. We prayed for Amos, read scripture, and were reminded how blessed we were. God had answered so many of our prayers. We were seen and loved. It was an excellent ending to a bad day. He continued to improve daily by taking in larger volumes of milk and showing the doctors he was growing strong enough for discharge.

Amos is here!

Amos Whit Staton was born March 1st at 5:51 PM, weighing a whopping 8lbs 8oz. He came with a head full of dark hair, the perfect button nose, and squishy arm rolls.
The experience was expectantly quite different than my other births, but I will always treasure how this tiny fighter came into this world.

Jess was recently telling me women relish telling their birth stories because, in some ways, it makes their experiences come to life. Birth is surreal, and it does feel like you float to a different planet for a day or two, and coming back down to earth is a bit of a rattle until the details begin to unfold in the imagination. As a doula, I always encourage my clients to tell their stories, however traumatic or beautiful their experience was. I believe it can be a cathartic experience of healing. So here we go!

First off, primary emotion: weird. Monday night Tyler and I walked into Randalls Children’s Hospital for my 7:30 PM induction. My other two births, I walked through the hospital entrance in full-fledged labor moaning and groaning and not knowing if I was half-naked or not. I had just endured a taxi ride over the bridge, first the Brooklyn than the Queens into Manhattan, where there were lights, noise, and chaos all around and my yells of pain just faded into the background.

This time in Portland, Oregon, we settled into our state-of-the-art birthing suite, where we couldn’t hear a pin drop and had a view of evergreen trees in the distance. The doc came to check my cervix and dilation straight away to have a good induction plan. He reported that I was 1 cm dilated and would start with the foley balloon. I asked if they could do some miso (a cervical ripener instead), but I realized VERY early on they did not want ANY baby being born before 7 AM. I was not too fond of the idea of a foley and was SHOCKED I would need one with my third baby. I asked them to recheck me in a different position. I was convinced I was further along than they said, and sure enough, I was 3 CM instead of 1 just 5 minutes later.

No foley was placed (they only work until 3 or 4), and they decided to start me on ONE unit of Pitocin. Believe it or not, I knew this entire birth experience would be anything but natural, so I pushed for more pit, but they held off until the following day. I slept on and off through the night, watching my contractions start to ebb and flow. The next morning they broke my water ouchie. The pain from the amnihook was much more intense than I expected, so I asked to change positions, and boom boom, easy as pie. I was pleased and knew this would help my body kick into gear. My pain level was nil to none, but I could see a rhythm of ctx was beginning, and I was encouraged by that. I danced around the room a bit, letting my water out all over the floor as Jess (my sister-in-law) graciously followed me around with a chuck pad. It was clear that the two of us were very used to this kind of a mess and welcomed it with open arms. I continued to progress at a textbook pace throughout the day, not insanely fast, but not too slow. My pain level was still incredibly manageable, so much so it was almost weird. The next check, I was at a 5ish. As things progressed, I anxiously waited, trying to know the best time for an epidural. I had decided that I wanted to have as little pain as possible for my delivery with Amos. I knew that the moments after he was delivered would be milliseconds, and I wanted NOTHING clouding that time. I wasn’t in much pain, but I ordered the ep, and they got it to me right away.

Jess held my hand, and the anesthesiologist asked me to curl my back like a cooked shrimp. Minutes after, I felt like I had smoked 500 joints in the best and worst way. It was such a WEIRD sensation. I started watching my contractions as they intensified, and I wondered why in the heck did I not do this with Hank and Simon. I became nauseous, another strange encouraging sign that labor was on its way. I threw up everything I had in my stomach and felt lightyears better. My next check a few hours later, I was at an 8.5 or so.

I knew we were getting close, and my demeanor shifted. My emotions were bubbling inside my throat, and I felt an overwhelming sense of fear, sadness, anger, excitement, basically every emotion all in one. (Cue another great sign of labor progressing). Deep in my gut, I knew this was my last hurdle before becoming fully dilated. I had no choice other than to let it out. I began to sniffle, then cry, then weep. “I know that if I birth Amos, I can’t protect him anymore,” I said. The pain of that felt overwhelming to me. These were the last moments he was safe and whole, and he was about to enter the land of unknowns where he would be poked and prodded, and it would never be the same. I had carried him all of these months. Months of grief and tears and sadness, but assurance that we had time until we had to face the hard part. Tyler and Jess stayed quiet and gave me the space to let it all out. Tyler prayed the psalms over me, and we listened to Hope on the Horizon. I asked for the doc to come in because I knew I was ready.
Sure enough, they gave me the last check, and I was fully.
I pushed in complete silence with a room bright as can be with a million doctors around the foot of the bed and even spilling into the hallway. They were respectful and kind, but I kept thinking, omg, there are so many shoes in this room, haha. After 12 minutes of excruciating pain, Amos came into the world crying a roar and was placed on my chest. I felt overwhelmed with gratitude and sadness knowing I got to feel his skin on mine, and also, they were also about to take him away. My doctor said it was time. Before I could blink my eyes, Tyler, Amos, and the doctors were entirely out of eyeshot.
Jess never left my side and was with me those moments after, which made me feel less alone. I had no adrenaline, probably because there was no bassinet next to me or a baby on my chest. The doctor sewed me up.
Minutes later, we heard from the cath lab where Amos had his first echo, and his aortic coercion and DTGA diagnosis were confirmed. Shoot-he was not healed in the womb. He headed to his first surgery/procedure, where they placed a balloon in his chest to keep him alive until his switch operation. I didn’t see him again until 3:00 AM.

Wowza. I am one lucky lady. This past Saturday, some ladies hosted a blessing way for Amos and me. I sat in the middle of the group as they took turns anointing my body with oil, speaking scriptures and truth, and praying over my family. The shower was at Pam’s gorgeous home, and many women threw in their collective talents to make it meaningful and pretty.

This blessingway is held dear to my heart as the exact words were spoken over me before Simon and Hank were born. I surprisingly wasn’t grieved that this time was/is different than the other two times. Previously, the prayers of a successful nursing bond or a beautiful labor experience had held so much value. This time around, I’m carrying a baby that may never nurse, and his very life is my prayer.  As I sat in the white chair, I laughed, thinking, wow, I am on a different coast in a different city surrounded by women I met only six months ago. However, I felt deep in my soul God’s love for me with the change. God knew I would be here and now for such a time as this. 

I have less than one week until Amos comes into the world. I feel excited and a little anxious and nervous. I’m trying my best to spend as much quality time with the boys as possible, reading them an extra story, playing an extra game, and snuggling them a little tighter when I put them to bed. 

Thirty-seven weeks pregnant, and what an eventful week it has been! Our family drove in from the lodge early Tuesday morning dropped Hank off at school (he was dying to get back and convinced that his literacy partner was missing him terribly). Tyler dropped me off at my doctor’s appointment, and I saw Dr. Chang for my last echocardiogram, a BPP, and a regular prenatal check-up and got my TDAP shot. Believe it or not, my brother Van and I had appointments simultaneously. Unfortunately, for both of us, we received less than ideal news.
His scan showed that the mechanical valve put in 3 years ago was/is covered in vegetation. He has been on endless rounds of antibiotics since his last open-heart surgery to keep infection around his heart at bay. We hoped that this scan would show that he could taper back those meds and start feeling more like himself. Alas, the opposite was true. He was admitted into Vandy, and plans of a third OHS were underway. The details are still being ironed out, and the weekend will be a long one for him as he anticipates another risky surgery. Of course, he is in great spirits, but I know this is so far from easy for him, and my heart aches that he will have to go through all of this once again. I am also sad that I won’t have the option of going this time as I have in the past.
As for Amos, his growth is right on track. Those rolls on his arms are still going strong, and he is getting larger every minute that passes. His Cisterna magna is still measuring a bit large, and I still have a mild case of Polyhydramnios. Chang reviewed his D-TGA diagnosis and found a hypo-plastic aortic arch. Bit of a tongue twister! An HAA is similar to the more common coarctation of the aorta but slightly different. Essentially it means that his aortic arch is underdeveloped and needs extra tissue to help it function to its best ability. During his arterial switch operation, they will address this and create a patch where needed. From my limited understanding, this will mean a longer time on bypass, a higher risk of inflammation/swelling, bleeding, and long-term concern of high blood pressure. After surgery, they will keep his chest open for some time so that swelling can go down. I don’t wholly know what this entails, and my questions are on hold for the time being. I am sure I will have plenty of time (the rest of my life) digging into every detail of his diagnosis. We continue to trust God knowing He has a plan for Van and for Amos.

     Despite much heartache, winter has graced us with many bright patches. Before our babymoon, Bridgetown had a Holy Spirit conference. We hosted Sam, Liv, and Jess, and we lived like we were in a college compound for a week. It was fun. We had other guests from the UK in PDX, and I believe it was a massive blessing to our church. 

     Tyler and I planned a big trip to Palm Springs for our last (I promise) very last babymoon. We rented a beautiful 70’s ranch-style house with a pool, firepit, and a backdrop of the mountains. It was beyond picturesque. I had an appointment a few days prior, and our desert mountain dreams came to a halt when they said that it was just too far in case of an emergency. They confirmed that no place in the desert could accommodate what we needed. We would be at best 2 hours from LA or San Diego if something happened. Reluctantly, I scrambled to make plan-b and, we left one day later for sunny San Diego. The temps were lower than desired, but we still got some good time together. Tyler chef’d it up and cooked our meals; we had time on the beach, finished a book in the Narnia series, and spent countless hours throwing a football. 

     We returned home and only a day later popped up to Mt. Hood. The getaway was my birthday present from Tyler, and we knew we had to cash it in before the baby came. Timberline Lodge is a snow-capped wonderland just an hour-ish outside Portland. The boys tried skiing for the first time; we snow-tubed, drank hot chocolate, played Candyland ping pong, and enjoyed the hot tub. This trip will def be a yearly tradition. I feel incredibly grateful to have been able to get away before this crazy season gets a little crazier. Tyler has worked so hard to make time away possible, which means a lot to me. 

I am 35ish weeks pregnant. My body feels stretched, strained, and more and more like a wobbly whale. I have a feeling this babe might tip the scales around 9lbs, but who knows?! Time is ticking, and this baby doesn’t have much longer until he is in the world.
Amos is lightyears more active than the other two; my sleep has become less and less as my heartburn occurs more and more. The joys!
After the holiday, Tyler went on an epic elk hunting trip, and the boys and I finished the room for Amos. It feels a bit extreme to have an entire room for a tiny baby, but we have never had the square footage, so it’s a fun change. Eventually, I plan to put all the boys in one room and designate one room for guests.

Soon a third Staton boy will be here, and we couldn’t be more excited! Sadly, our black jenny lind crib was broken during our move, but we snagged a free one as well as a new dresser from craigslist. Simon and I gave the dresser a new paint job and filled it with tiny diapers, a few swaddles, and clothes Simon and Hank previously wore.

Last Tuesday, I had my fourth scan with the cardiologist. Overall, the baby looked good. The doctors were laughing at how active he was. He was moving back and forth at lightning speed and constantly bringing his legs to his face. We discovered Amos has hair (not surprised), his second toe is longer than his first (hello Staton family), he has rolls on his arms, his tone looks lovely, as well as the muscles and tissues around his heart. He measures right around 65%, which is excellent as it assumes my placenta is still providing sufficient nutrients for him during this last stage of pregnancy. Lastly, Dr. Chang was able to locate a thymus. Hopefully, this indicates (no guarantees) that he won’t have DiGeorge syndrome. DiGeorge is rare but has a more significant correlation with TGA babies and has def been a possibility that has filled me with some anxiety.

Ultrasounds are a bit of a double-edged sword at this late in the game, so here are the yellow flags they found. I have very MILD polyhydramnios (a little over the range of “normal” amount of amniotic fluid.) His aortic valve is a bit narrow. The doctor said the surgeon would patch it during his switch operation if this is true. When looking at his brain, they found a space-I can’t remember the part exactly that is measuring a bit larger than normal.
These details could mean nothing, OR they could indicate a genetic issue. They will revisit all of them in a few weeks, and hopefully, things will have leveled out a bit.

As for TODAY, I don’t feel anxious about any of them. I am leaning into imaging is lifesaving, and it is also a bit crude. Sometimes there’s such thing as TMI.

Once the holidays have come and gone, our Christmas tree comes down in a flash, and I want nothing to do with anything red or green. I am as into Christmas as anyone could be, but when it’s over. It is OVER.
Sadly, I came down with a grim case of COVID on the 15th. It was BAD, but the silver lining is perhaps I have antibodies for some time? All of the boys came away unscathed! I also felt more comfortable flying from A to B for Christmas, knowing I should be safe for a bit….
We have the best family indeed, so seeing them never feels like a chore. We hit Charleston, Nashville, Kentucky, and Alabama within a week. All in all, it was an excellent trip.

Tyler needed to be back in Portland before us, and the boys and I made the journey home a few days later. Thank you, Jesus, for shows and spicy water, as the combo saves us on flights and makes the experience doable. I did get some funny looks as my whale body shuffled through the airport with our luggage and both boys running amuck.

Being back in Portland has felt nice. I am in full-time nesting mode. Nesting with so many unknowns perhaps makes me feel a little more psychotic. I awoke the other night wound up tight because I was trying to sort out how we would get to and from the hospital with one car and still get the kids to school etc. VERY IMPORTANT TO SORT OUT AT 4 AM.

Tyler was away ice camping in a winter storm when we got home (does anything sound worse?), and the boys were beyond jet-lagged, so I tucked them in at 6:30 and called it a night. We have spent the last week catching up on sleep, getting back into our routine, and bracing ourselves for that routine to be once again interrupted by the impending closure of schools.

Well. Thursday, I had another doctor’s appointment. It lasted almost four whole hours!!!!! Another week down and another week chock-full of information. I left with more clarity, a tote bag full of books, and a lovely new heart murmur myself since I def have time for that. She wanted to check my heart because of my brother’s defect. She said sometimes siblings have the same one; one sibling is asymptomatic, and one is not. Arg. My guess is that the extra blood flow because of pregnancy is causing a bit of a murmur, but I tend to think nothing is wrong until something is wrong—an echocardiogram- another thing to add to the docket of to-dos. 

I met with my NEW doctor at Emmanual/Randalls Children’s Hospital. She will not be the one who delivers Amos. Sadly, I will never get to meet that person. Here is the breakdown of the information I received. 

 I am anemic, but no surprise there. I had my regular check-up, glucose test, routine bloodwork, etc. Nothing a little floradix can’t fix. I have been down that road twice before. The doc reminded us that with no detected VSD, Amos would be whisked away milliseconds after birth to be stabilized and then undergo a balloon septostomy. A BS is when the cardiologist begins by making a tiny incision in the groin to access the femoral artery with a catheter. Once this catheter is in place, a deflated balloon catheter is inserted into the first catheter and guided to the heart. A small camera inside the balloon catheter allows the doctor to see the heart on a video monitor, and a series of X-rays with dye and contrast are taken. Once the balloon catheter reaches the right atrium, it is passed through the heart defect to the left atrium and inflated. After it is inflated, the balloon catheter is pulled back to the right atrium, creating a larger opening between the right and left atria, enabling the oxygenated and deoxygenated blood to mix. After the balloon is deflated, both catheters are removed, and the incision is closed. 

Depending on how he does with the balloon, it’s my understanding he will be on the stabilization floor for a few days preparing for his extensive switch surgery. (More details on that to come-one thing at a time). I will be able to stay the night during his entire stay at the hospital, which is incredible. I would imagine I won’t just because Hank and Simon will need me at home, and I want to create some sense of normalcy for them. Thankfully Tyler will be available, and he is the BEST person for those boys. I received a photo tour of the space, and it is truly a state-of-the-art brand new facility. Sadly, Tyler and I are the only ones allowed to see him due to covid. All of his procedures and recovery rooms are within the same building. After showing me loads of pictures of the PICU, the NICU, and his recovery rooms, she briefed me on PPD (also not a new thing for me YAY) and assigned me a free counselor. Each mother is advised to talk to one since she will not only be seeing her baby covered in wires but seeing other children with heart conditions–even the same ones as Amos has but older and it could be quite triggering. Every doctor was gracious and loving, which is all I could ask for. I feel so grateful to be in Portland and for the multitude of available resources. 

This is how we pray going forward: 

-Amos would be completely healed. Before he is even born, his walnut-sized heart would be completely formed correctly. His life before even birth would be a sign and wonder that only could be explained by a miracle. 

-If healing on this side of heaven isn’t in the cards, then we pray for a VSD, a nice giant one that allows blood to bring oxygen to his brain.

-If there is no VSD, we pray for a successful balloon surgery with no infection, leaking, blood clots, or strokes. 

Here are my prayers for today—more for tomorrow. 

     I am 27 weeks pregnant, and life feels busier than ever. Tyler’s schedule is jam-packed, and weekends/well Saturdays have been left to hosting out-of-town guests for Bridgetown and completing tasks around the house. We have never been HOME owners, and sheesh, it’s a hefty list of never-ending to-dos. 

Last week we had our second official appointment with our cardiologist. I came fully prepared with questions that had bubbled in my brain from our previous visit. I have never felt more like my mom. I have a google doc on my computer of questions that I am determined to be answered before Amos is born.

     Overall, the appointment was underwhelming, which I guess is good at this stage. Dr. Tucker, Dr. Changs partner, did a full anatomy scan. She thoroughly measured his body, ensuring that his brain, femur, and stomach continued to grow—all green lights. Then did a thorough look at his heart. She could not detect a VSD ventricular septal defect, which they had been able to see a few weeks ago.  A VSD allows for some blood mixing and can lead to better outcomes. I was bummed to hear of the lack of detection, but Dr. Tucker assured us that the outcome could still be a positive one. She felt confident that the structures of his heart looked like they were in good shape for operation. To know the exact condition of all of the intricate structures, we will have to wait until he is born to see. 

Honestly, it seems like it’s not even possible for the Christmas season to be upon us. Thanksgiving didn’t shake out the way that I had hoped. Our friends from Brooklyn came to visit. After a hike in Forest Park, I came down with a weird bug and was laid out in my bed for 24 hours. Thankfully Natasha made a feast, and Tyler made sure the day went on without a hitch. I night capped with my first tablespoon of mashed potatoes in bed, and by the next day, I felt a bit better. I could stomach a smoothie and even went to a winery while Tyler went to Mt. Hood with the boys to sled and cut down our first Oregon Christmas tree.
That night I dropped our friends at the airport and felt deeply disappointed. Every part of me wanted to jump on the redeye with them back to New York City. Maybe it was the holiday that stirred up the feeling, not sure.

I miss the buzz of the city; I miss feeling known, the chocolate croissants, and, believe it or not, the smell, which I would describe as a mixture of halaal and trash:) I think after a few months, I feel exhausted. This pregnancy has been a nightmare. I have not been able to turn my neck for almost three months, and the new weight of being excited about a new baby but having no clue what those early days will look like have sent me into a bit of an emotional tailspin. I’d prefer to retreat rather than trudge forward. I want to go home or back to my old home. I don’t want to learn. I don’t want to grow.

When discerning if Portland should be on the table, I went through Gemma’s discernment document. I wrote down: When I am 80, I want to be rich in wisdom, prophetically discerning, have lived a part of my life in nature on the West Coast, discipled by older women, and most of all, I want to be in a position where I NEED God.

Portland is where God has called our family for this time; no doubt about it. (I could write a novel about how WONDERFUL people have been to us)!!!

My intention is not to complain or even lament. God is answering my prayers. This season hasn’t been particularly FUN, but it does feel like the pains of growing.

Psalm 20

It is Saturday morning, the first time I catch my breath from a week jam-packed with activity. Tuesday, we hosted our first community group, Wednesday we attended a deliverance workshop at our church, Thursday a worship event, and Friday, my first client in the PNW had her baby via c-section. We bookended the week with a beautiful dinner hosted by Pam for the elders and board of Bridgetown. Simon was out of school all week due to a classmate with covid, so the two of us had full days with lots of visitors, playdates, and reading curious George 150X each day. I am thankful to be busy. I am grateful to spend my days getting to know people and hearing their stories.

I feel 97% at peace with Amos’ diagnosis, and I would say 3% full of anxiety, fear, and doubt. 3%, I’d say, is pretty good. Praise God. That percentage lies in the area of genetic unknowns. On Tuesday, Hank was at soccer practice, and Simon was surprisingly playing on his own with a lego motorcycle when I found myself idle. I whipped my phone out and started to analyze the lab reports, images, and notes from our cardiologist. I texted Peter, called the office to ask a few questions, and even read some medical abstracts on TGA’s association with genetic abnormalities. Should we have done more genetic testing??? All moms become experts on their children. However, my eagerness to learn is based on fear, not trust. 

Our family is committed to praying in the morning and the evening for Amos. We are memorizing Psalm 20, and we declare he belongs to Jesus. I hope that eventually, the words of David will pop to the forefront of my mind before the words of Google. One day at a time. 

May the Lord answer you when you are in distress;

    may the name of the God of Jacob protect you.

May he send you help from the sanctuary

    and grant you support from Zion.

 May he remember all your sacrifices

    and accept your burnt offerings.

May he give you the desire of your heart

    and make all your plans succeed.

 May we shout for joy over your victory

    and lift up our banners in the name of our God.

May the Lord grant all your requests.

Now this I know:

    The Lord gives victory to his anointed.

He answers him from his heavenly sanctuary

    with the victorious power of his right hand.

 Some trust in chariots and some in horses,

    but we trust in the name of the Lord our God.

They are brought to their knees and fall,

    but we rise up and stand firm.

 Lord, give victory to the king!

    Answer us when we call!