For as many summers as I've lived in Missoula I'm been involved with what used to be called VBS, Vacation Bible School. Our church puts it on every year and it has since been renamed SAW, Summer Adventure Week. I haven't been able to get in the habit of calling it SAW because to me that just doesn't sound right. VBS it is, I'm afraid.
This week is Vacation Bible School up at Missoula Alliance Church. Hundreds and hundreds of kids pack into the sanctuary everyday, eager and ready to expend all of the energy they kept bottled up during the school year. These kids are CRAZY! It's exciting to see and frankly I can't blame them because even now, as a twenty-six year old, I get a little giddy during the first few days of June as I remember how it felt to be a kid to have the whole summer free to do anything and everything except school. Ahhh, to be a kid again. As per usual, I am helping out this year which means my life this week is also complete madness. The feat of getting my kids properly dressed, fed, diapered, and out the door before 8:20 in the morning is ginormous in and of itself. And that's just the easy part.
My "job" this year is Event Coordinator. This is my second year doing it and I still don't quite know what all it entails. I help plan games for the kids to play with the goal being to help each child memorize a certain bible verse. I help set up drama sets and shuffle kids where they need to be. All in all it's a pretty simple job. Even though I'm kind of tethered to one spot the entire week, the perk to that is I get to see ALL the kids at one time or another. In previous years I've been a Guide and I personally think being a Guide is the best job of all. My husband is always a Guide. Guides "supervise" a predetermined group of children for the whole week, which means they basically get to be a kid themselves and get to participate in everything that the kids do. Lucky.
This year, though, I was also asked to be a speaker who shares the gospel with these kids each and every day. At first glance I thought it would be fun. I enjoy speaking in front of people and having a job that would challenge me was really exciting to me. "Bring it on," I thought. More days passed and I began to remember the people who did the same job last year and the year before and the year before. I began to panic knowing that whatever I said had the power to make a child deny the love of Jesus. What if I said something wrong and this child was forever convinced that there was no God? My words were the difference between Heaven and Hell. (Poof!) That was my dream cloud breaking over my head. I was being a bit dramatic and it took me awhile, and the words from my husband, to remind me that, yes, my words were important but it was ultimately the Holy Spirit that would bring a child to Christ. God is more powerful than a word or any sentence that could ever come out of my mouth. So, I calmed down and slowly started to prepare some ideas for my talk.
But then June 11th happened. The Friday before the start of VBS. I was in no mood to proclaim the love of Jesus to anyone, not even to myself. I didn't feel the love of Jesus and to be honest I was really angry with God. One reason I don't mind speaking in front of people is because I'm usually passionate about whatever I'm speaking about, but I knew that if I were to get up in front of those kids on Monday morning, it would be blatantly obvious that this God I was supposed to be talking about wasn't as grand as everyone made Him out to be. I called the director of VBS, who thankfully lives right across the street from us and who is a very good friend to our family, and I told her the thoughts running through my head. She understood completely and I could tell she could feel my pain. She cried with me and urged me to do whatever I needed. I left her house that morning almost certain I wouldn't be speaking to those kids come Monday morning.
Yesterday was Monday and by a power not from myself, I got up in front of those kids and told them about the love of Jesus. I'm not exactly sure what happened but it just felt like the right thing to do. I walked into the church that morning with tears bottled up in my eyes. I was sad. Sad because I never got to see my baby's face or kiss their tiny toes, but also sad because for a second I had doubted Jesus' love for me. I'm not sure if anything I've said over the past couple of days will stick with any of the kids but I know the Holy Spirit will do the job even if I can't.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
What could have been...
What could have been a post that I had been waiting months to write about sadly turned into one of my worst nightmares this last Friday.
You see, Alex and I were excitedly expecting our third baby! We had been keeping it a secret from most people, aside from our family and two of our closest friends. We had tried for a baby for about six months and then decided that maybe we just shouldn't try anymore. So, I went on birth control but with Alex and I birth control is more like birth guaranteed! I got pregnant with both Cale and Riley while I was on the pill. Go figure. So the first month on birth control we found out we were pregnant! I remember waking up from a very vivid dream that I was pregnant (which is the exact way I knew I was pregnant with Cale and Riley - from a dream) and so while Alex was taking a shower I rushed downstairs to use the bathroom and take a test. Low and behold I slowly started to see TWO pink lines appear, which meant I was definitely pregnant. My first emotion was fright. I started crying immediately and just like I had done the previous two times, I started shaking and could barely speak. I ran upstairs and told Alex to get out of the shower. He initial reaction was that one of our kids must have died because of the look on my face, but when I was finally able to stutter out the words, "I'm pregnant", he got a huge smile on his face, hugged me, and told me that everything was going to be okay. His reaction and his assurance slowly made me feel okay, too.
From that very moment I started praying for this baby. I started praying that it would be healthy and that God would help me reach a full-term pregnancy. I prayed that my pregnancy would be healthy and that we wouldn't encounter any complications. I prayed that I would be able to slow down and enjoy this pregnancy, because I was able to do that with Riley and I loved every moment of being pregnant with her. I prayed for a safe delivery and that it would be a perfect, intimate moment for our family. I prayed for Cale and Riley and that they would just embrace this new life with everything they had. I prayed all these things EACH and EVERY day from the moment I found out I had someone growing inside of me. I didn't miss one day.
Alex and I had already chosen names, depending on if we were to have a boy or a girl. We fell in love with the name Brady if it was a girl, and we decided on the name Tye if it was a boy. I loved those names. I was taken aback at how much I already loved this little person growing inside of me. Perhaps it's because I already have two kids and I see how much I love them, but I had just as much love for this little person that I hadn't even met yet as I do for my two kids who are already here with me. Even though I was only three months pregnant, I truly felt like I had bonded with this baby even though I wasn't able to feel him or her move inside of me. I saw their tiny little heartbeat on the ultrasound during my first appointment and even then I cried just knowing how much that little baby was already loved.
Friday, two days ago, I woke up and knew something wasn't right. I called my doctor and told him what was going on and he assured me everything was probably okay but to come in anyway so that he could put my mind at ease. I called Alex home from work so that he could watch the kids while I went to the doctor. I guess in my mind I thought things would be okay, too, because the same thing had happened when I was pregnant with Cale.
When I got there my doctor sat me down and assured me everything was fine. He went over a few causes as to why these things might be happening and then told me he'd do an ultrasound so that I could see everything was fine. He got our baby in the center of the computer screen and I knew immediately something was very wrong. I had seen enough ultrasounds to be able to detect the heart beating and in the picture I was looking at, there was nothing. No movement from the baby, no beating heart. My doctor, clearly shocked, poked around for nearly ten minutes trying to find the heartbeat but finally said, "I think you've probably already miscarried."
He left the room to allow me to get dressed and as soon as he closed the door I just broke down into hard sobs. I wanted Alex to be there; someone to be able to hug me and tell me it was okay. But I was just all alone, left there to stare at the image on the ultrasound machine of our little baby that had died.
I was nearly twelve weeks pregnant. Our baby was about the size of a lime. My doctor gave me two options. 1) Go home and just wait for the "tissue" to pass or 2) have a procedure done, called a D and C, to basically "suck" out the tissue using a machine. Well, neither of those options sounded very pleasant to me. I certainly didn't want to just sit and wait for this nightmare to finally come true. Even though I knew our baby was already dead, there was still a peace inside of me knowing that it was still a part of me. I didn't want to just see it in the bottom of the toilet. I also didn't like the second option but I guess I didn't like it the least because that is the option I chose. That afternoon we checked into the hospital and within about four hours I was able to leave, without my baby.
I'm still in a bit of shock. I know miscarriages are fairly common but "common" does not mean it is easy. I'm saddened beyond belief. I cry at random times throughout the day. I even get really angry at times. I literally feel like I have lost one of my children, even though I was never able to see or meet them.
Life feels so different now regardless of the fact that nothing has really changed. There's just a sadness hanging over our home. One thing, though, does bring me great joy. I believe 100%, with all of my heart, that our little baby is celebrating with Jesus in Heaven. When I walked into our house after coming home from the doctor and learning that we had lost our baby, I buried my head into Alex's shoulders and the first thing he said could not have been more perfect. He said, "Well, it was the first little Burkhalter to see Jesus' face."
Brady or Tye. God knows who you are, and I can't wait to meet you on the other side!
You see, Alex and I were excitedly expecting our third baby! We had been keeping it a secret from most people, aside from our family and two of our closest friends. We had tried for a baby for about six months and then decided that maybe we just shouldn't try anymore. So, I went on birth control but with Alex and I birth control is more like birth guaranteed! I got pregnant with both Cale and Riley while I was on the pill. Go figure. So the first month on birth control we found out we were pregnant! I remember waking up from a very vivid dream that I was pregnant (which is the exact way I knew I was pregnant with Cale and Riley - from a dream) and so while Alex was taking a shower I rushed downstairs to use the bathroom and take a test. Low and behold I slowly started to see TWO pink lines appear, which meant I was definitely pregnant. My first emotion was fright. I started crying immediately and just like I had done the previous two times, I started shaking and could barely speak. I ran upstairs and told Alex to get out of the shower. He initial reaction was that one of our kids must have died because of the look on my face, but when I was finally able to stutter out the words, "I'm pregnant", he got a huge smile on his face, hugged me, and told me that everything was going to be okay. His reaction and his assurance slowly made me feel okay, too.
From that very moment I started praying for this baby. I started praying that it would be healthy and that God would help me reach a full-term pregnancy. I prayed that my pregnancy would be healthy and that we wouldn't encounter any complications. I prayed that I would be able to slow down and enjoy this pregnancy, because I was able to do that with Riley and I loved every moment of being pregnant with her. I prayed for a safe delivery and that it would be a perfect, intimate moment for our family. I prayed for Cale and Riley and that they would just embrace this new life with everything they had. I prayed all these things EACH and EVERY day from the moment I found out I had someone growing inside of me. I didn't miss one day.
Alex and I had already chosen names, depending on if we were to have a boy or a girl. We fell in love with the name Brady if it was a girl, and we decided on the name Tye if it was a boy. I loved those names. I was taken aback at how much I already loved this little person growing inside of me. Perhaps it's because I already have two kids and I see how much I love them, but I had just as much love for this little person that I hadn't even met yet as I do for my two kids who are already here with me. Even though I was only three months pregnant, I truly felt like I had bonded with this baby even though I wasn't able to feel him or her move inside of me. I saw their tiny little heartbeat on the ultrasound during my first appointment and even then I cried just knowing how much that little baby was already loved.
Friday, two days ago, I woke up and knew something wasn't right. I called my doctor and told him what was going on and he assured me everything was probably okay but to come in anyway so that he could put my mind at ease. I called Alex home from work so that he could watch the kids while I went to the doctor. I guess in my mind I thought things would be okay, too, because the same thing had happened when I was pregnant with Cale.
When I got there my doctor sat me down and assured me everything was fine. He went over a few causes as to why these things might be happening and then told me he'd do an ultrasound so that I could see everything was fine. He got our baby in the center of the computer screen and I knew immediately something was very wrong. I had seen enough ultrasounds to be able to detect the heart beating and in the picture I was looking at, there was nothing. No movement from the baby, no beating heart. My doctor, clearly shocked, poked around for nearly ten minutes trying to find the heartbeat but finally said, "I think you've probably already miscarried."
He left the room to allow me to get dressed and as soon as he closed the door I just broke down into hard sobs. I wanted Alex to be there; someone to be able to hug me and tell me it was okay. But I was just all alone, left there to stare at the image on the ultrasound machine of our little baby that had died.
I was nearly twelve weeks pregnant. Our baby was about the size of a lime. My doctor gave me two options. 1) Go home and just wait for the "tissue" to pass or 2) have a procedure done, called a D and C, to basically "suck" out the tissue using a machine. Well, neither of those options sounded very pleasant to me. I certainly didn't want to just sit and wait for this nightmare to finally come true. Even though I knew our baby was already dead, there was still a peace inside of me knowing that it was still a part of me. I didn't want to just see it in the bottom of the toilet. I also didn't like the second option but I guess I didn't like it the least because that is the option I chose. That afternoon we checked into the hospital and within about four hours I was able to leave, without my baby.
I'm still in a bit of shock. I know miscarriages are fairly common but "common" does not mean it is easy. I'm saddened beyond belief. I cry at random times throughout the day. I even get really angry at times. I literally feel like I have lost one of my children, even though I was never able to see or meet them.
Life feels so different now regardless of the fact that nothing has really changed. There's just a sadness hanging over our home. One thing, though, does bring me great joy. I believe 100%, with all of my heart, that our little baby is celebrating with Jesus in Heaven. When I walked into our house after coming home from the doctor and learning that we had lost our baby, I buried my head into Alex's shoulders and the first thing he said could not have been more perfect. He said, "Well, it was the first little Burkhalter to see Jesus' face."
Brady or Tye. God knows who you are, and I can't wait to meet you on the other side!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Seattle Trip
Last Thursday we packed up and headed towards Seattle. This was the first time I was excited to make the drive, only because I was so certain that this doctor's appointment was going to give us the answer we had been waiting for. Our plan was to only go as far as Moses Lake, WA since the drive to Seattle is nearly nine hours if you factor in our two kiddos and the many stops they require. Our night in Moses Lake was uneventful; the kids slept great due to my husband's grand idea of using the extra mattress to the queen bed as a "wall" to separate us from the kids. They slept all night and we woke up and hit the road on Friday morning.
We rolled into rainy Seattle around 1:00 and headed to the hospital for a pre-op appointment with the anesthesiologist. They checked his height, weight, and reminded us of what time we needed to be there on Monday morning. Seriously? That's it? We came all the way here three days early to get his height and weight? Apparently the staff at Seattle Children's do not care if you are coming in from out of town - they don't mind whose time they waste. Thankfully, though, Grandma lives in Seattle and so we got to spend a few days with her. Cale and Riley were spoiled beyond belief and were still asking for Grandma when we pulled into our driveway last night. What would the world be like without grandmas?
Monday morning was the big day. We woke up at 5:00am to hopefully beat the rush-hour traffic so that we could be at the hospital by 7:30. We made it with only a few minutes to spare and pretty soon there were doctors rushing all around, prepping Cale for his procedure. Alex and I were both pretty calm but definitely anxious for the results. They only allowed one parent to go back with Cale while they put him to sleep and my dear husband knew I would be a wreck if I was the one who had to wait alone, so he graciously allowed me to go back with him. Cale screamed and clung to my arm while I lied him down on the bed, obviously terrified beyond belief. I couldn't hold back the tears any longer and sobbed right in front of him, trying to assure him everything was going to be okay. I'm sure he saw the fear in my face. I tried to be strong but I don't think any parent could have watched their child cry that hard, visibly frightened, and not shed a tear. Cale fought and fought while the nurse tried to keep the mask around his face but after a few minutes he slowly started to give up and then fell fast asleep. Now the waiting begins.
Alex and I walked up to the cafeteria to grab a bite of breakfast. Neither of us were that hungry but decided to eat anyway. We sat at a table but didn't really say anything to each other. I think we were both a little scared and anxious. Even though Cale wasn't having surgery, it never feels "okay" to have your child be put to sleep for something. I can't imagine the parents who have to sit and wait while their child endures a six-hour surgery. Agony. After eating, we walked down the hallway and headed towards the waiting area. A family sat down near us and we noticed that the father had a Griz sweatshirt on and so we made small talk with him for a little bit. It's funny how small of a world we live in. After waiting for only about half an hour, the doctor came out and sat down to go over everything with us. I took a deep breath and for some reason, seeing the look on his face, I knew he wasn't going to give us the answer we were hoping for.
He showed us a few pictures that he had taken and told us that everything he could see looked "normal". That word, 'normal', makes me want to cry. Everything is not normal and the more I hear it the more angry I get. He told us that he took some biopsies and that it would take a couple of weeks to get those results. The biopsies would tell us if he had any allergies or if there was more inflammation in his esophagus than he could see through the scope. I'm hoping the biopsies are able to tell us more but at this point I've pretty much lost all hope.
The good news, though, is that they didn't find anything. The other side of this coin is that the doctor could have seen something that needed fixed with surgery. I'm learning that rather than trying to find out what is wrong with Cale, this whole process of doctors and procedures is more about eliminating things than finding a diagnosis. Hopefully someday, with enough eliminations, we will come across something that tells us why Cale is the way he is. I'm also learning how grateful I need to be to have a husband to go through all of this with. I can't imagine doing any of this alone and Alex has been my rock since day one. God definitely knew what He was doing when He brought us together.
So, the search continues. I'm disappointed we didn't get any answers but at least by eliminating things we are that much closer to finding a cause.
We rolled into rainy Seattle around 1:00 and headed to the hospital for a pre-op appointment with the anesthesiologist. They checked his height, weight, and reminded us of what time we needed to be there on Monday morning. Seriously? That's it? We came all the way here three days early to get his height and weight? Apparently the staff at Seattle Children's do not care if you are coming in from out of town - they don't mind whose time they waste. Thankfully, though, Grandma lives in Seattle and so we got to spend a few days with her. Cale and Riley were spoiled beyond belief and were still asking for Grandma when we pulled into our driveway last night. What would the world be like without grandmas?
Monday morning was the big day. We woke up at 5:00am to hopefully beat the rush-hour traffic so that we could be at the hospital by 7:30. We made it with only a few minutes to spare and pretty soon there were doctors rushing all around, prepping Cale for his procedure. Alex and I were both pretty calm but definitely anxious for the results. They only allowed one parent to go back with Cale while they put him to sleep and my dear husband knew I would be a wreck if I was the one who had to wait alone, so he graciously allowed me to go back with him. Cale screamed and clung to my arm while I lied him down on the bed, obviously terrified beyond belief. I couldn't hold back the tears any longer and sobbed right in front of him, trying to assure him everything was going to be okay. I'm sure he saw the fear in my face. I tried to be strong but I don't think any parent could have watched their child cry that hard, visibly frightened, and not shed a tear. Cale fought and fought while the nurse tried to keep the mask around his face but after a few minutes he slowly started to give up and then fell fast asleep. Now the waiting begins.
Alex and I walked up to the cafeteria to grab a bite of breakfast. Neither of us were that hungry but decided to eat anyway. We sat at a table but didn't really say anything to each other. I think we were both a little scared and anxious. Even though Cale wasn't having surgery, it never feels "okay" to have your child be put to sleep for something. I can't imagine the parents who have to sit and wait while their child endures a six-hour surgery. Agony. After eating, we walked down the hallway and headed towards the waiting area. A family sat down near us and we noticed that the father had a Griz sweatshirt on and so we made small talk with him for a little bit. It's funny how small of a world we live in. After waiting for only about half an hour, the doctor came out and sat down to go over everything with us. I took a deep breath and for some reason, seeing the look on his face, I knew he wasn't going to give us the answer we were hoping for.
He showed us a few pictures that he had taken and told us that everything he could see looked "normal". That word, 'normal', makes me want to cry. Everything is not normal and the more I hear it the more angry I get. He told us that he took some biopsies and that it would take a couple of weeks to get those results. The biopsies would tell us if he had any allergies or if there was more inflammation in his esophagus than he could see through the scope. I'm hoping the biopsies are able to tell us more but at this point I've pretty much lost all hope.
The good news, though, is that they didn't find anything. The other side of this coin is that the doctor could have seen something that needed fixed with surgery. I'm learning that rather than trying to find out what is wrong with Cale, this whole process of doctors and procedures is more about eliminating things than finding a diagnosis. Hopefully someday, with enough eliminations, we will come across something that tells us why Cale is the way he is. I'm also learning how grateful I need to be to have a husband to go through all of this with. I can't imagine doing any of this alone and Alex has been my rock since day one. God definitely knew what He was doing when He brought us together.
So, the search continues. I'm disappointed we didn't get any answers but at least by eliminating things we are that much closer to finding a cause.
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