Time To Get You Big Girl Pants On

This may sound a bit direct, and perhaps it is; but I am going to say it just the same anyways...



Time to get your big girl pants on (or for some of you, may be time to get your big boy pants on).

Yep, I read it again to myself and its blunt...real blunt as a matter of fact, but I think it needed to be said and so I said it.

Sometimes you need to stop having a "temper ta trim" so to speak. Stop with the pity-party. Stop just sitting on your butt complaining about what's wrong in your life, declaring that God and the world owe you something when in fact, they owe you nothing. Yep, they really owe you nothing at all in the great scheme of things.

Take responsibility for your own actions and decisions. Sometimes you just didn't so 'happen' upon the place you find yourself. In fact, many times it was your own choices that got you where you are at. And until you realize this very fact known as your "own free will" you may just stay stuck in a miserable place as the world continues on instead of taking responsibility and moving forward with grace and mercy.

God can't change free will. Nope. He can't make you do anything that you are not willing to do. Sometimes, however, God gives you the 'key' to a door but you have to be the one to take the 'key' from Him and unlock the door, turn the knob, open the door and take a step through it. Yep, you have to act and do. God just isn't going to hand everything to you on a silver platter. And I am sorry it is foolish if you think so, and if you are stuck in that mind set you just may be wondering through the 'hallways' of life.

For instance, you may wish to go on a diet. You have to be the one to be strong and stay firm when shopping for food. The grocery store has plenty of healthy foods to choose from but you know what else they have up and down their aisles? Junk food. It is you who decides what to put in your grocery basket. All the nutritional facts are on the cartons but you decide if you are going to read them and eventually partake in them or not.

Doing nothing but praying may not get you anywhere either. God may be waiting for you to act. It would be silly to sit on your butt, complaining of no money, and who knows what else, and not get up onto your feet and go find a job or something. He has given you hands, feet, eyes, ears and a mouth for a reason--to use them.

If you are using something as a crutch in your life, whether out of fear, or as a means of manipulating others around you for your own selfish needs and pride, take heed--you need to stop. At some point, you will find yourself discontent and discouraged. Your loved ones will grow weary of you. They can't enable you forever and they shouldn't enable you. And when they stop enabling you, you will be responsible for what befalls you and the repercussions it could bring. It is not their responsibility to hold you up.

Time to get your big girl/boy pants on. You can't be in diapers forever. Getting rid of diapers opens a whole new world up to you, one with out Desitin and diaper rashes.

When One Door Opened

 

In February, when we found ourselves walking through the entrance doors into the Pediatric Unit, I found myself oddly relieved that we were there. In fact, some people in that unit could have commented on the small smile that was accross my face. I watched them roll my daughter through the door into her large hospital room and I was...I was almost joyous that we were there. I mean what parent would be somewhat happy that their child would spend a night or two in the hospital? One that was very relieved that someone finally believed her--that someone took her seriously and that there was finally a diagnosis for her little girl after 3 visits with the pediatrician in almost just as many days. Thanking God that x-rays were done and pneumonia was found, and now her little girl would soon be on her way to recovery.

Unfortunately, this attitude would soon change as day 3, 4, 5 and 6 rolled passed and Sky Baby was still there and still very sick. As day 7 came and went, I found myself growing ever more worried about my little girl and as each morning went by and I found myself walking through the hospital doors with snacks, activities, and dolls for Sky Baby, as well as my Bible and such in tow, I slowly became more aggitated and angry at God that we were still there at the pediatric unit with Sky Baby. I was growing very weary leaving Paize behind, kissing Scot on the cheek as we did our "shift change" and sitting with my sick child while pregnant with my son. The hospital doors and the pediatric doors were becoming daunting. You know you had been there for quite some time, when all you had to do was press the button to the pediatric unit and they didn't even have to ask you who you were anymore or the name of the patient for whom you were coming to see--they knew me by face now.

As daunting and heavy as the doors were becoming, even the automatic doors mind you, the doors that were becoming more and more frustrating and frightening to me were the elevator doors. I hated the elevator doors. I hated stepping into them. I hated how they made me sick to my stomach when their little box of a room would make my exhausted pregnant self dizzy and queezy from its motion. But what I hated most about those doors...What made me even more angry and frustrated about those darn doors than I was already, was where they would keep placing me. Yep, they kept opening on the 4th floor. I HATED the 4th floor. Why couldn't the elevator just get me to the 6th floor? Why couldn't it just skip right over the 4th floor? Why would it open at the 4th floor in the comings and goings of the hospital and the other occupants of the forsaken small moving box!




You may be wondering what was so wrong with the 4th floor by now. Well, where this particular elevator kept stopping was right infront of a unit I just didn't want to be reminded of primarily because of how it made me feel--very, very fearful. It would often open at the entrance to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit; and as each day would pass by, and as I watched my daughter be placed on oxygen and antibiotics and more and more doctors were being called to work on her case, I was terrified of PICU.

At the beginning of Sky Baby's hospitalization, I found myself thanking God that we weren't there. We were not in PICU. However, as days passed and Sky Baby's condition was not changing, I found myself really thanking Him that we weren't there in PICU out of fear that He would place me somewhere I didn't want to be; and the elevator doors was a reminder of that, and I hated them for that fact.

Well, as Sky Baby's condition continued to barely improve after 9 or so days on very heavy IV antibiotics, Scot and I found ourselves behind closed doors in a conference with all of her doctors including her infectious disease doctor, pulminary specialist, the resident, and other nurses and doctors as well as my dad who was retired from a medical profession himself. The decision to walk straight into PICU was before us. After much prayer and information gathering, Scot and I decided to send Sky Baby straight into those doors that I had been praying to God that we would avoid entering!


 

The next day, Sky Baby was carted off to the 4th floor to have a risky bronchial scope performed--a procedure that had the risk of spreading the infection to healthy lung tissue and air ways, as well as carried the common risks that are often associated with being put under for a time as it was. I still to this day remember walking out of the elevator with my husband and daughter and my Bible in hand confused as to why God was placing us here at PICU. I remember seeing all of the staff and equipment as well as watching my little girl be terrified of her surroundings and trying so hard to be strong for her. As we watched her go under general anesthesia and we were told to leave, I was angry that I had to leave her in PICU, but thankful at the same time that it was for only a short time and after the procedure was completed our daughter would return to the 6th floor. I hated it when the PICU doors closed behind us, and our little girl was left in the hands of other people. I prayed for her and tried to tell myself that she was in God's hands as well.

When the estimated time of the completion came and went, I became very worried and extremely aggitated as I knew right away something was wrong. Very wrong. I wanted my little girl and I wanted her now. "Why haven't her doctors come for me?" "Where are they?" "What's wrong?" "They said it would only be a half hour." I became very verbal in my displeasure and insecurities. In fact, the rest of the waiting room was now alerted of my discontent as my dad and Scot tried to reassure me.

To make a very long story short, we finally found ourselves just inside of the PICU doors when we were informed that our daughter had problems with the general anesthesia and after her doctors were forced to use paralytics on her, her weak lungs had started to collapse. We were soon told that she was on 15 liters of O2 using the mask and she was still having problems breathing. I remember becoming very angry. Very angry--the kind of anger that everyone standing near us knew of my displeasure. I began to question our decision to have the scope performed for which all but one doctor had urged us to do. I wanted her out of TB lockdown. I wanted her little one room world that we had found ourselves in just days prior to end and her gastric tube removed. As the closed door to her big hospital room had begun to make her room smaller and smaller with the walls closing in around us, in desperation to have the restrictions lifted and my daughter released from her dungeon so to speak, and in desperation to solve the reasons as to why her pneumonia just would not heal, I was afraid I had made the wrong decision and in doing so, I was now in the doors for which I never wanted to be. As I realized the fate that was occuring and the realization that we were indeed where I never wanted to be--we had a very sick child who was now worse than before--I couldn't believe God would allow this to happen. And as we were asked to leave PICU briefly as the doctors went back to assess Sky Baby's condition, I became even more angry at God. And as the PICU doors closed behind us once again, and I was in Scot's arms, I burst into emotions. Tears came flooding out and I began to stomp my feet as a child does when a parent makes a decision that they disagree with. Yes, I was stomping at the predicament we were in and where God had placed us.


 

Shortly thereafter, we were told that Sky Baby was very agitated, and angry, and they were getting ready to intubate her. I refused. I told them they would not to intubate her until I saw her first. They quickly rushed Scot and myself into PICU and into her room. I flew through those doors at that point not caring in the world that we were there. I just wanted to see my little girl again and help her breath. Sky Baby was angry, and very scared, and she was letting everyone around her know it too. I saw the fight in her, and I knew that she was just scared and in a panic. I knew that all I needed to do was to calm her down and help her relax a little. I took over the nebulizer and started to tell her to take deep, slow breaths. Once she realized I was there and she was making the attempts to calm down, I sang Jesus Loves Me over and over again. I soon crawled into her bed and laid down beside her singing. Slowly Sky Baby's oxygen levels improved. The doctors informed us that Sky Baby would be staying the night in PICU for observation. I remember thinking here we are...

However, now that time has passed, and I have been able to reflect on everything, I am able to realize that when the one dreaded door opened, good came from it. In fact, in hines sight it needed to happen and God prepared me for it, even when I wasn't even aware of it. He even equipped me and was there for Sky Baby, Scot, and I as soon as it was realized that Sky Baby would be staying in PICU. Not one second did He not provide me with what I needed to continue on the painful road I had to travel to get to where I am today as I write. Do you know that as soon as Sky Baby's breathing had stabilized as I was singing to her, God was present? He was there for me. Just as soon as the doctors left the room do you know who's face peered into the room? Steve, an elder from our church. This just dawned on me the other day, and as soon as I remembered him entering the PICU room to pray with us and to encourage us, it gave me goose bumps. God knew I was weary and fragile, and when PICU doors opened and I was forced to walk through screaming and kicking all the way, He was going to equip me with what I needed to continue on. Simply powerful...powerful... And when Steve left the room I felt a calm that I did not think I could obtain in such a place as PICU; and I was ready to face it.

God had equipped me the whole time and I didn't even realize it. He prepared me for battle weeks before I was aware there was going to be a fight. For example, weeks prior to Sky Baby's illness, I had begun to experience bad back pain as a result of my pregnancy with Little Man and other factors. Who knew that back pain was going to lead to 'armor' for the battle ahead. I went to see a friend who is a certified massage therapist and who performs cranial therapy as well. One thing about her is that she is strong in her Christian faith and healing. She explained to me that our physical well-being is most often tied into our mental and spiritual well-being. She told me to find 3 Bible verses that claimed health for me and my family and to place them on my bathroom mirror so that I would be reminded of them every morning and that I would claim them in prayer for me and my family. Who knew that in doing so, I would find Bible verses that would equip me for the fight; and along with verses that my twin sister would find later, they would be amongst several Bible verses that hung about Sky Baby's hospital room.

The 3 Bible verses that I found and I still hang on my bathroom mirror to this day are as follows:

Do not be wise in your eyes; fear the Lord and shun evil. This will bring health to your body and nourishment to your bones. Proverbs 3:7-8

So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Isaiah 41:10

...Long life to you! Good health to you and your household! And good health to all that is yours!" I Samuel 25:6

And although health didn't exactly find my family in the months proceeding the discovery of these verses, I believe that they equipped me for what occurred, and I was more prepared to deal with them than I would have other wise been. Plus, I can't help but shake the feeling that some outcomes and symptoms were averted through learning to trust in God and claim health in my life as well as my family's. I say that even as we are the midst of Little Man's kidney problems.

Also, I have to say that a positive came from PICU. Even in the first night we were in there, which included me expriencing the worst nurse out of the whole 12 days we were in the hospital and me falling backwards onto my butt slamming my head against the marble window sill at about 25 weeks pregnant, God was at work. Yep, after my fall that I had experienced, a friend of ours who was a prenatal specialist at the hospital, was kind enough to check on me and the baby so that I did not have to leave the hospital to see my OBGYN. In doing so, and although my doctor would have at some point learned of the problem, our friend noticed that our son was retaining fluid around his kidneys and informed my OBGYN that follow-up ultra sounds should be performed to re-evaluate Little Man's kidneys. I can't help but be blessed that we were made aware of his kidneys much earlier than otherwise would have; and hence, we were able to keep a closer eye on his condition and any complications that could have risen from it.

There are so many such blessings. And everytime I felt as though another hurtle was before us, God was there. From my sister being laid off from her job who ended up being our main sitter during the last few months to Pastor Steve coming in to pray with Sky Baby and myself the day we went on TB lockdown and I was feeling very low, there was God in the midst. I wish I could share them all with you. He was there with us as Scot and I had to administer Sky Baby's IV antibiotic of Merapennim (sp?) after only a half hour crash course on how to do so.  For two weeks, Scot and I handled her meds through her PICC line just to have her home, but God gave us a wonderful home nurse who helped us learn.

We can either choose to accept what God has to equip us for the battle that lay ahead or we can refuse them; that is our choice. But if we accept them as we go through the door that we wish would remain closed, we can learn and grow in a way that only God can provide us. I have grown so much with in the last few months.  Like I have said in prior posts, I have been changed in such a way that I just do not believe I would have changed otherwise if God hadn't opened an unwanted door--a door I much rather have remained closed. And as painful as it was, I am thankful too. God never said it would be easy, but trials can either help you grow in your walk or not--that is for you to decide. However, if you find that one door is either closing that you don't want closed or there is one that is opening that you prefer stays closed tight, just know that God has given you the tools to overcome them and pray that you choose to accept them.

GOD IS GOOD.

ANOTHER UPDATE

Skye and Ian had their physicals and check-ups today. Besides a small summer cold, Skye is healthy and ready for school to begin. However, she did cry more than Ian did when she received her one vaccine versus his 4.

Ian is 16.1 pounds!! He is in the 97% for his weight and length, but he is doing well and is healthy! I rather him be a larger breast fed baby than a small one esp. with his kidney troubles. Speaking of his kidneys, Ian will be having his second renal scan performed on Sept. 17th and then he will be doing a follow-up appt. with his urologist a week later. His follow-up ultrasound is being discussed and such. His pediatrician believes that although one has not been scheduled, Ian should have one performed. As this scheduler has been difficult to work with, I will be putting another call into tomorrow. As scheduling these appointments have been slightly frustrating, I have been giving my frustrations to the Lord and praying for Sharon, the scheduler, esp. when my attitude towards her has been well not the best. God does have His hands in this as well.

Ian also has a flat spot on his skull that we have to compensate for now too. I have new ways that I am to lay him down and to change his diapers. Hopefully, this will correct itself soon.

Why Standing on a Bar Stool is Not a Smart Idea

So this post has not been written with the primary need to share any of my specific spiritual reflections that God has revealed to me with in the last few days (one such writing is currently in the works), but rather to dispense a little wisdom and perhaps a little amusement at my expense. DON'T USE A BAR STOOL FOR A STEP STOOL.

There is a reason as to why standing on a bar stool is not a smart idea. Infact, using the bar stool as a quick substitution for the step stool was perhaps one of the most hair-brained, stupid ideas of my life. Yep, while I was in the act of hanging up new wall hangings in my kitchen, which had already been one aggrivating endeavor as it was, I decided to grab the bar stool instead of wasting my time and energy going upstairs into my closet to retrieve the wonderful invention called the "step stool." See we painted a new color in the kitchen over the weekend and I was on the mission to complete the new look. Instead of waiting for Scot, "the picture hanging guy" in this household, I embarked on this project by myself and it was a frustrating one.

Well, after some time had passed and I had succeeded with out falling, I decided to go up again for one more quick look at the wall hangings to make sure they were indeed secure and would not fall off the wall and hit me on top of my head while I was washing dishes or something; and okay one of the hangings was a tiny bit crooked too. So in haste I quickly grabbed the bar stool again, and since I had managed well thus far in my attempts to stand upon it, I may not have been as precise and careful as before.

Not sure what happened, but I suddenly found myself free falling, as the stool headed off in one direction and I in the other. I even found myself thinking as I was falling that this was indeed most certainly going to hurt. I landed with a sharp, hard thud to my right hip and low back with my elbow and head slammed the hard laminate floor soon thereafter.

I hit the floor narrowly missing the stove top. As I hit, I remember being stunned with pain all over. It was a hard fall. A bad fall. A nasty fall. I even remember hearing the sound of my cross necklace slamming onto the floor. I grimaced in pain while at the same time thanking God that I had not only missed the corner of the stove but that I had trained Skye a while back on how to dial 9-1-1 in the event of me having such an encounter as the one I had just experienced.

The girls came running into the kitchen asking if I was okay and what happened. I just gasped for air and shook from pain and nerves. I started to catch my breath and then I began to cry this deep cry I guess...a cry the likes the girls have never heard because they ran out of the room and started to laugh everytime I moaned. I tried to evaluate my wounds and turned onto my back and faced up towards the direction I had just come from. I calmed myself down and convinced myself that I was not dying and that I was not hemorrhaging from my wounds or anything. The girls came back into the room as I still layed on my back stunned from the fall. "Should I call 9-1-1? Do I need a neck brace or a back board? What would my dad do? (Side note in case you were curious: my dad is a retired paramedic) Should I call Scot?" I thought to myself. For some reason I thought that calling Scot who was busy working at work, none-the-less, was good idea.

Skye retrieved the phone and I called Scot who sounded very concerned and was about to leave work when a new thought entered my mind. Scot has taken so many days off from work for all of our family's medical needs and such that I just didn't want him to take yet another afternoon off, possibly stealing it from any other possible day in the future that could be dedicated for any family time as the summer is drawing to a close and no vacations or any such event has occurred this year. Then what really hit me, what made me really get off the floor was the medical bills. I am so gosh darn tired of medical bills and doctor visits and to add one more to our ever growing list just didn't sit well with me ESPECIALLY for such a careless act as I had just done and so while on the phone with Scot, and as Skye returned the bar stool to its rightful place, I slowly sat up and eventually made it to my feet, hurting all the way.

Several hours have passed since my unfortunate mishap with the bar stool and I find myself with a headache, low back and hip pain as well as pain in my neck, elbow and wrists. As I write this, I am trying to find any positive statements or spiritual correlations here to write and it has been like "pulling teeth here a little bit" but I did and it is as follows: Make sure your foundation is firm so to speak. Make sure that what you are stepping on in your "faith" is firm, strong and balanced; and if it isn't, take the time to pray that God will help you shed the burdens of sin or doubt or whatever it may be that is making it unstable.

And with that said I am going to sign-off for the night. God Bless.

Update

Well, I guess there is no other way to say it, I guess well my Lil' Pais is just well...well...she is just a bit on the klutzy side I guess, but I love her just the same!

Scot took Paisley to get her eyes checked this morning and he came home and reported that she did wonderfully and behaved very well. The doctor even commented on her such good behavior. She enjoyed all the different eye examinations. Sounds like she may need glasses in the future but not presently. She does have some astigmatism, but does not need to be addressed currently.

I am happy that she is fine and that we got her precious little blue eyes checked anyways. I would have hated it if she had a problem that did not get addressed in a timely manner.

Still trying to get all of Little Man's appointments lined up. Hopefully, it will all get resolved today and we can finally talk to an actual human being instead of a lovely voicemail and get his tests on the books. Praying for patience here as this will be the fourth day of trying.

And Another One for the Mazda!

In the middle of trying to cook dinner and feeding Ian this evening, the phone rang and it was Scot. I was a little stressed out and a little winded too. Scot remarked that he was sorry that he hadn't made it home yet. I rolled my eyes expecting to hear him say that he hadn't left work yet or that he thought of another errand to run or something. He continued on to say that a 17-year-old backed up into the Mazda when he was waiting in line to get gas.

Quickly my mind went to our poor Mazda. The Mazda that is really beginning to show her age. The little car with all her dents and scrapes. The little car that has the check engine light that keeps coming back on, even when we fix and address what we believe to be the problem. The little car that I am beginning to be embarrassed driving. First of all, Scot never bathes or waxes that poor car. Its dirty, lacks a good shine and her interior smells. Secondly, her appearance is well...is well...not much can be said about her appearance anymore. The over coat is leaving her trunk. She had fallen victim to a BB gun attack years ago and had suffered some tiny dents from that cruel teenage prank. Then on one windy day, a Burger King sign slammed into her door. And the countless other dents from other car doors and their careless masters. And she never was quite the same after a run in with a tow truck once. Her radio doesn't always work and her transmission likes to jump randomly out of the blue sometimes. Her driver side key hole is really a hole now as a piece has rendered itself missing now.

Yep, what crossed my mind was "And another one for the Mazda!" So then Scot explains how there was indeed a new dent and scratched paint but that the young man apologized and quickly exchanged information with Scot. The boy was nervous and shaking. Then what came out of my husband's mouth next appalled me! "You did what?! That's it?! Now the Mazda is going to look even more like a 'Po' dunk piece of trash' then she is already!" Yep, Scot let the boy pay $10 worth of Scot's tank of gas! Didn't quite seem fitting in my mind anyways.

"That's it!" I remarked. Scot then said something that struck me. Struck me hard. The kind of remark you wish they didn't say. The kind of remark that makes you realize something about yourself. Scot said he wanted to extend the teenager grace as someone did him many years ago. "OUCH!" I thought to myself.

And then I quickly thought of the CROSS. God extended grace to us. The only difference between Scot's grace and God's grace is that God didn't do it on the mere fact that someone had extended it to Him. In fact, His Son Jesus Christ received the opposite. God didn't expect anything in return. He is the ultimate example of GRACE. And although Scot's grace was a bit different, it made me think of God's GRACE and the CROSS. All one must do is accept His grace as the teenager did with Scot tonight.

And now when I look at those two new dents, I will be reminded of God's grace. AMEN!

Another Black Eye

When you look through my scrapbooks and photo albums, you may notice something about Paisley. In several photos of Paisley through various ages in her growing-up, she has black eyes and some kind of bump or bruise to her face and head. Some were caused just by her learning how to walk and others were part of that phase that I think every toddler goes through. The phase of tripping over their own two feet causing scraped knees and such. Well, Paisley is also notorious for walking into things. Things that are pretty much right infront of her. Things that one would think that atleast her peripheral vision would pick-up on.

Every Friday we head out for some kind of dinner out whether its something quick or some nice sit down dinner somewhere. It's our end of the week tradition. We picked Red Robin last week. It is a perfect place to take a family with kids. It's nice and loud! Yep, loud! When you have little ones such as I do it's always nice to eat out when you are not worried about your table neighbors giving you a glare should your child have a relapse in judgement and act up at dinner or something. I mean what child never acts up at dinner, right? Okay, so now I am off point here.

I was following the host and leading my family to our table. Scot was bringing up the rear. We approached our table and as always I started to plan our seating arrangements. I turned around to check my family and start placing children where I saw fit when I saw Scot bent over placing Ian, who was in his carrier, onto the floor and Paisley who was whaling and holding her face. As Scot comforted her I quickly sat Skye and retrieved Ian. As Scot soon sat at the table with Paisley in tears we evaluated what had just occurred. "What happened?" I asked. Scot replied "She walked right smack into the chair." Scot then remarked that he couldn't believe that she didn't see it. He didn't understand how she ran into it. Then Scot and I remarked how she always seems to do it and how. I asked her if she was okay and she just whimpered in her daddy's arms. Scot and I continued on with our discussion. "Looks like yet another black eye." "Can't believe she is going to have another one." "May be we should get her eyes checked." Then Scot and I stopped in our tracks so to speak.

I could tell the same thought popped in his head as did mine. Our pediatrician recommended it months ago after seeing Paisley with a black eye. WE FORGOT!! How could we have forgotten!! I felt horrible. Little Paisley had gotten overlooked during Skye's illness and Ian's kidney scares. Poor Paisley, the middle child, got lost in the shuffle of it all and I felt horribly. I had vowed before Ian had come that Paisley would not become the lost middle child and what on earth had I already done!

And sure as some of my friends commented to me this weekend, I had a lot on my plate and those were abnormal circumstances, but still it didn't make me feel any better. Paisley didn't deserve that especially with her being a trooper lately. She was shuffled here and there and left with that person and this person during Skye's hospitalization. She saw Skye come home with all the flowers, treats and get well gifts and she got almost nothing. Soon after Skye's PICC line was removed, she was moved into Skye's room in preparations for Ian's arrival and she lost her bedroom. Soon after little brother was born, her beloved passy was taken from her to save her teeth, for which the teeth she didn't give a darn about, and then she was potty trained shortly there after.

But you know what? She did it with such grace. All of it. Bless her heart. Such grace. Hardly any complaints. Even though I failed in one area and my middle child got lost in the mix for a bit, when I think about Paisley I think of her grace and how she just kept on keeping on. Even when I was unable to spend as much quality time with her as I had hoped when Skye was supposed to be at preschool but was home sick instead with H1N1 and later pneumonia and then a 2nd chest infection. Paisley never complained. She is a strong little girl and I have to trust in God that although at some point we plan on a 4th child, Paisley is our middle child for now and He knew she could handle it. He knew what He was doing.

Anyways...with all that said, Scot and I were able to quickly schedule an appointment for her this week! The appointment was set up so smoothly, unlike her brother's appointments at the moment for his ultra sounds and renal scan. Three days of trying and we still have not been able to speak to the scheduler personally. Must trust that that will all work out soon too and God has a handle on that as well. Anyways...Paisley's appointment is early tomorrow morning and we shall see how her little blue eyes are doing.