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Two Pounds that Changed My Life

I was 24, just 1 year into MY career, fresh out of grad school. I remember this song that was popular at the time; there was a line in it that went "My Futures' So Bright I've Gotta Wear Shades." I liked that song. My future WAS bright. I was challenged at work and felt like all of that studying was finally paying off (to be honest, I was pretty headstrong and full of myself). Then the news - I distinctly remember, I was on a pay phone in the lobby of my building when the nurse said, "You ARE pregnant." WOW. Motherhood, right now? After the initial surprise, I took it in stride, still with that youthful arrogance thinking I could handle anything.

My baby was due to arrive in Decmeber 1987, on my baby brother's birthday. Time ticked away, and I barely showed, even at 5 months. Then in September, everything changed. I got really ill and had a terrible pain in my abdomen. We went to the hospital, where I was quickly diagnosed with pre-eclampsia, and admitted. The abdominal pain was because of swelling in my liver and spleen. My doctor sat right beside me and said "Your going to deliver this baby within the next 72 hours." I didn't believe him. I still believed I was in control, I could "hold off", and he was surely wrong.

September 19 came. I was only 28 weeks along. I started having convulsions and everything shifted into high gear; doctors and nurses in and out all night long, scheduling emergency surgery, papers to sign agreeing to who knows what, with me vomiting as they tried to examine me and explain what was happening. I finally realized I was WAY out of control of the situation, and it was SCARY. The morning of September 20 came, and surgery was to be early. Family and pastor gathered around for prayer as I was whisked away. The doctors gave both mom and baby a 50/50 chance of survival.

I awoke in ICU. Bo brought in a poloroid of our baby that the surgeon had taken immediately after delivery - a tiny prematurely born baby girl weighing just 2 pounds! No one could stay with me, just a few close friends and family 2 at a time for 15 minutes every few hours. It was a scary, lonely place. I had no idea what was happening to my baby; I could hear gruesome noises from patients around me, but I couldn't move to see what was happening. On my way back to a regular room, the nurses wheeled my stretcher into Neo Natal ICU, right up beside my baby girl. The only movement I could make was to turn my head slightly to the side to look at her. I couldn't reach out, couldn't touch. There she was, not a stich on, bright pink, with so many tubes and machines and monitors attached. She had tubes and wires everywhere, coming from her head, her abdomen, even her tiny little heels. I broke down, right there laying helpless beside my helpless little girl. I felt a depth of despair I'd never known before, and deep sobs echoed from within the darkest places in my soul.

I felt like such a failure. Like something was wrong with ME. Why wasn't my baby safe inside my womb, still growing and getting stronger? What had I done wrong? Was God punishing me? I felt cheated; I felt like we had all been cheated, robbed in a way. I felt like I had a gaping, raw hole in my heart that wound its way into the marrow of my being that nothing could fill. Why had God let this happen? Would my baby ever be normal? Would she take a first step, have a birthday, would she even come home?

When she was 3 days old, we named her Amanda Jean. She weighed in at 2 lbs 2 oz at birth, but lost a few ounces afterwards. Every day we prepared ourselves for the worst; the Doctor was very frank about the liklihood of permanent eye damage, brain damage, lungs collapsing just to name a few. Every day, they did a CT scan of her little brain to look for bleeding. Many a day I sat by her isolette as the family next to me received the news "there was another bleed last night", or worse. On many occasions I would arrive to find that another ICU baby had not made it through the night. One morning, a nurse came into my room and said I couldn't come to the unit because Amanda's left lung had collapsed and they were performing "procedures" to repair it. A few days later, the same thing happened with her right lung. The "procedures" were succesful. Later, I learned that in each instance one of the nurses had to manually pump air into Amanda's failed lung until surgery could be prepped, literally keeping her alive with every press of her hand. We never received the "really bad" news, like blindness or a bleed in the brain. Days slowly passed. We were covered with prayers, I know because so many people told me afterward how they had been praying constantly for our baby. I found myself so overwhelmed, angry, and hurt that I couldn't pray. At that time, I was not familiar with the scripture that assures the believer that the Holy Spirit interceeds for us, as Paul writes:

"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit Himself interceeds for us with groans that words cannot express." Romans 8:26.

When I couldn't find the words to pray, in the depths of my despair, the Holy Spirit was interceeding for me! I know this now, but at the time was completely unaware that we were literally being COVERED, SHEILDED, CARED FOR by the Holy Spirits' gift of intercessory prayer.

For the next week, I left my room and made my way to ICU every time visiting hours were open. Only parents and grandparents were allowed in, and we had to thoroughly scrub down and put on sterile gowns each time. I sat next to her, and they let me reach into her isolette to touch her tiny body. I talked to her; sang to her, watched her every move, cried, and left a tape player inside her isolette with soft music for her to hear. And I did another thing - I started praying. Not like I had ever prayed before, but more like a dialogue. More like an open channel where I laid bare my thoughts and feelings in the presence of God and expected - thats right - I expected answers.

Then came my discharge day. What a horrible feeling. I had to leave my baby and go home. I cried bitter tears night after night as I tried to go to sleep at home while Amanda was still in ICU. Finally, when she was 2 months old, I was allowed to hold her for the first time. What a moment! She fit snugly in my right hand, her little head resting at the tips of my fingers, and her bottom nestled in my palm. At that moment, hope and restoration truely began. I started allowing myself to hope, to believe even, that she was coming home - My baby was coming home! Here's a photo of Amanda at 3 months, weighing a whopping 4 lbs! ----->

She grew stronger day by day, and I prayed that she could come home before I had to go back to work. It didn't seem to be turning out that way. Then, on the Friday before I was scheduled to return to work we went for our daily visit. As usual, I pleaded with Doctor Armand to let me take her home. To my amazement, he said "yes". Just a simple "yes." We were out the door as quick as a wink, afraid some one would find out the discharge was a mistake, and would snatch her back!

Amanda came home on monitors, because she sometimes forgot to breathe and sometimes her heart forgot to beat, so she had little wires still attached. This is not uncommon for preemies. We fed her every 2 hours with a syringe; she was too small for a bottle, and her tiny tummy could only hold 2 oz at a time. So we swapped off so that we could each get 4 hour naps between the nighttime feedings.

Amanda grew stronger and healthier day by day. Looking back, she's probably the healthiest child in our family, except for the very beginning of her life. Now my 2 pound miracle is 18 and ready to start college. Wow! The time has flown! She is beautiful, funny, kind, smart, and every minute of her life has been sheer joy to me.

I've learned more from her than she could ever learn from me. For starters, humility and true gratitude for the things that really matter - the twinkle in a child's eye, the feel of baby's breath on my neck, special quiet moments with loved ones that can never be taken away, no matter what. The blessings that come from just SLOWING DOWN and savoring each moment. I've learned not to take myself so seriously and to acknowledge the true source of all good things, rather than stubbornly asserting that somehow I am in charge. I hope I have learned to love more deeply, to accept more freely, to care more selflessly, and to pray more earnestly. I have also learned how to truely empathize with hurting parents going through similar situations. Not just to say "nice things", but to have really been there, walked the road, felt the pain, and have been richly blessed through it all. I've learned to depend on God, to rest in Him, and a little more about the power of prayer than I ever knew before. I've also learned that God is able to do anything. There is no job too big for Him, not even a 2 pound preemie.

There is no doubt in my mind and heart that God placed Amanda here for very special purposes. She is now blossoming into the woman HE planned for her to be all along. I count it as pure blessing to be the vehicle by which she made her way into this world. I am humbled at the thought of it all. It is so exciting every day to hear her tell about her experiences, and to watch as the woman she will be unfolds magnificantly right in front of my eyes.

Amanda graduated from high school with honors on Friday, May 26 2006. She lettered in Drama, and earned a lifetime membership in the International Thespian Society. She has been accepted at North Georgia State College & University, and is awaiting replies from 2 additional colleges to which she has applied for the Fall semester. Her future is bright - I'd better go find those shades!

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose." Romans 8:28

"What then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all - How will He not also graciously give us all things?" Romans 8:31-33

What's so great about Lemonade Stands?

I've had my share of lemons, haven't you? We all have. The question is not whether or not we have had lemons (for we all will have our share), but rather what we do in response to our lemons. The best thing I've found to do with all of those lemons is to mix up a big batch of fresh, icy cold lemonade, find a sunny, warm porch with a gentle breeze, and sit and sip awhile. Thus, one of my favorite quotes from some wise person that came before:

"When life hands you Lemons, Make Lemonade"

On July 11, 1999, I was handed a BIG lemon. While frying okra for dinner, the oil got too hot, and I had a Kitchen Fire, from which I was severely burned over most of my body. Recovery was slow and painful and very humbling, but sure enough a silver lining emerged. One of my friends brought over some Vitamin E Oil, Lavender and Geranium Essential oils to me. The Lavender and Vitamin E were for my skin, to help in the healing process. The Geranium was to put in a diffuser (which she also gave me) in order to benefit from it's uplifting & mental clarifying properties. I had never used essential oils before, had no clue about what kinds there were, how to use them, or why to use them. I found all of this so enjoyable that my interest in the essential oils & herbs was peaked.

I begain to pick up small bottles of various essential oils at my local health food store and was constantly diffusing this or that essential oil, often making my own blends. The great thing about this new interest is that as I became more involved in the creative process, I became less bound up in the pain and trauma of my accident.

Now I am a very practical person, and I am also a very creative person. I love the creative process, but it is important to me that the things that I create end up being useful - practical in some way. So I begain to read, to search, to ponder, and soon came upon the idea of handmade and natural soap and skin care products as a hobby. Thus, the birth of our family business,
Jeannie's Soaps. Finally, from that big fat lemon, the delicious, refreshing, thirst quenching lemonade began to emerge.

So why this blog? Why tell this story? Really for selfish reasons. Right now in my life, I NEED to 'make lemonade' every day. The path of least resistance would be to give in; to simply fade away and be no more. It would be sooo easy, and would bring an end to soo much pain. My Lemonade Stand is a way for me to choose life; to make a concious choice every day not to give up, and yes, to acknowledge with gratitude that I have been given the privilege of living another day. In the process maybe I'll be able to bring some perspective to your life as well.