P.S.

I'm sorry to the five of you that randomly check this. I suck at blogging. I will try to be more faithful.

More to come this week?

T-Minus

14 Days until a baby. 14 days until we go from zone defense to man to man. It won't be long before we are playing shorthanded at this pace.

Liz is doing great. Juliet is doing great. Baby 'X' is doing great. I feel like shit. I'm tired. Burnt out. Tired of being the sole bread winner for a failing company. Tired of having the world on my shoulders. Tired of feeling like no matter how hard I work, no matter how many jobs I bring in, no matter how many hours I work, No matter how many fires I put out, I am just spinning my tires.

I'm tired. I just want to see a light. At. The. End. Of. The. Tunnel.

"even in sleep, rest evades me,
even when dreaming, I feel like I'm running"

Day #92/Day #1

Today we had surgery. How do you prepare for an event like this? When I was in high school, a car ran a stop sign and t-boned me, rolling my car multiple times trapping me upside down. I had to punch a window out to get out of the car. The next year, while I was hunting I got shot at. Last summer while working in the ghetto, someone drove by my job site and took a pop shot out the window of their car with a pistol at my building/me/who knows what for fun.

In all three of those cases, I was scared. So scared I was shaking.

Tonight I couldn't hold my fork while I tried to eat my poorly made salad. I was shaking. My dad tried to distract me with conversations about Michigan State, about life. We talked about work, about the miata, about a lot of other topics that I listened to, talked about, and remember nothing of. Inside I was trembling. I was scared. Not for me. I was scared for my wife. Her life, the life of my unborn son, were in the more than capable hands of our neurosurgeon, our OB, our neo-natologist, our anaesthesiologist(s), and several nurses. I was scared for Juliet, to grow up without her mama. I was scared to have something happen, and regret this decision for the rest of my life. I have never been so scared.

In a time like this, just sitting there, watching the waiting room pager to buzz letting me know Dr. Ahldgren was done and was coming to talk to me, there's one thing you can hold on to.

God is good all the time. All the time God is good. He is, was, and will be in control of this situation. All that we can do is step forward in faith, and trust that he will work this situation for good.

Finally Dr. Ahldgren came and talked to me. The surgery went great. He was able to fix the disc, fix her spine, and the nerve has been fixed as well. Our son is safe, Liz is safe, and the healing has begun. He thinks that as long as she takes care of herself, she should never have another disc problem.

God is good all the time. All the time God is good.

I gave my dad the good news, and he took off to head home. I went and sat in my truck waiting until I could see Liz when she got out of post-op recovery. I started crying. I was so relieved. Tears of joy, of fear, anxiety, just came out. Pent up emotion from 92 days of waiting, Dr's appointments, sleepless nights, anger, frustration, they all got let go in the form of tears. Just rolling down my cheeks.

God is good all the time. All the time God is good.

I never doubted those words, I have told myself those words over and over, but they have never had such powerful meaning until the minute that Dr. walked out and told me everyone was fine.

God is good all the time. All the time God is good.

Somehow I knew He would glorify Himself in this situation. In 15 years, Dr. Ahldgren has done surgery on pregnant women 6 times. Liz was lucky #7. A little numerology anyone? God gets the glory in this one.

A lot of people were praying. We knew they were. We could feel it. I felt those prayers like a hurricane. Thanks to everyone for the continued prayers.

Liz starts recovering now. She is in a lot of pain, but that's nothing new. She however doesn't have any nerve pain, and she can finally lay on her back. For the first time in 91 days. We know its going to be a long road, and tough as her belly continues to grow, but we are excited to finally be on the road to recovery. I told someone on the phone tonight, it's exciting, because for the last 91 days, it didn't feel like there was a light at the end of the tunnel. It didn't even feel like we had entered the tunnel yet. Now, we can see the end, and we are excited to get her back on her feet and back to being the mother she wants to be to Juliet, and our unborn son.

We will never take the little things for granted again. We are excited to go for walks together. She can't wait to go to Meijer's and go shopping. We can't wait to throw a Frisbee, to dance together at weddings. She can't wait to stand up without hunching over.

Please keep praying for a swift recovery. We love you all, and are infinitely thankful for your continued prayer and support.

God is good all the time. All the time God is good.

Surgery

Well, surgery is set for tomorrow. T-Minus 17 hours. Hopefully Liz get's some relief.

I will update this once we get in there and she is safely asleep and ready to go under the knife. Thanks to all who have been praying for her/I. Keep her and our son in your prayers.

Day #61 - Hour #57

Dear Agony,

Just let go of me(her)

Suffer Slowly

Is this the way it's got to be?

Don't bury me

Faceless enemy

- Dear Agony, Breaking Benjamin

This is Liz's anthem. Let me define powerless to you. I thought at one point I knew what it was. I thought that watching my job fade, taking a pay cut or two, etc was what it felt like to be powerless. I had no idea. Powerless is watching your spouse roll on the floor screaming. Begging for mercy. Praying for relief. Pounding the floor, changing positions every 45 seconds. Watching, and not being able to do a dang thing.

She's been in pain for about two months now, manageable pain. Thursday the pain went thru the roof. Screaming, cursing, begging, pleading, crying. It was horrible. It went on for 18 hours. at about 5:30am on Friday we decided to go to the ER. We called my mom, she drove up and met us at the ER to pick Juliet up. We got admitted, where they started giving Liz morphine immediatly. Of course, since she is pregnant, the good narcotics are big no-no's. So, every two hours she was getting a shot of morphine. That was good and all, but it is definitly not sustainable. So shes out of pain for two hours, but what are we going to do at home? I can't give her a shot of morphine. Eventually they kept us overnight, for observation. We saw 8 different pain specialists in about 8 hours. I've had more intelligent farts than what they were willing to offer us. My favorite part is how each of them feels the need to grab Liz's leg and yank it around, poke her back, ask where it hurts. It's like "hey retard, this has been done about 17 times the last two months. The results haven't changed. Read that big red chart in your hand deuchebag." It took some begging, and a little complaining, but eventually we got a PA who actually listened, and helped us decide on a course of action. She got a different pain management specialist in, who actually listened. Listened, sympathized, and cared for Liz. We loved him. I almost hugged him when he said he would do anything he could to help us, write whatever prescriptions he could, etc. It was awesome. So raise your glass to Dr. Sean M. Conroy, I'll have a drink on you, pal!

Here's where we are now:

They tried MS Conton for 24 hours. That was a joke.

They are trying Methadone now. It's already a joke.

These are 12 hour pills, so about 4 hours in, Liz is rolling around in her gurney, and we always end up paging the nurse begging for something. So, they are keeping us tonight as well. They have her now on some other pain med, with an oral steroid, and an oral morphine. What's scary, and what sucks, is all these med's are FDA 'C'. That means they have either never been tested on humans, or in lab rat tests have shown adverse effects on fetus's, but the OB, the Pain guy, and the nurse all feel confident that since we are in the second trimester, it's safe to take them. Our little guy has developed everything, and the ultrasound a week ago looked great. Now he's just growing.

I mean, what do you do? Tell liz to bite a stick for four months? That's unrealistic. Finally we got the OB & Dr. Conroy together today, and thet decided that after they do the Epideral tomorrow AM, if there is no change, we will start seriously considering surgery. Which both of us are hoping for. There are risks, but we need to get this figured out for poor Liz.

Where do we go? Epideral tomorrow. Hopefully get discharged afterwards. Otherwise it could be more time in Hotel Troy. We just don't have any answers yet...

Dear Agony

I heard this song this morning and it made me think of my wife. So, I dedicate this song to her.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IbPuTwo1bxs

Stupidity

I am blown away lately by the decision making that has surrounded me. I see stupidity infiltrating every level of my surroundings. Sometimes I just want to ask them "oh, I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you because your head is so far up your ass, would you care to repeat yourself?"

It's like, do you care to think thru your decisions a bit more? No, well than let me know before you make your next stupid move so I can get my rear end out of the way before the poo-poo storm rains down on us all. I mean, haven't you learned from your mistakes before? No? Really? Care for me to re-live them for you? You Retard(s).

Day #43

Day #43. Biblical time of testing is 40 days. I have a feeling this one isn't going by the book. We are off the script now.

Liz and the baby are in Lansing. Her parents and sisters were generous enough to volunteer to help this week. We have been immensly blessed so far by all the family members who have stepped up and offered to help us out with Liz and the baby. It's been really great to have such a huge outpouring of care.

Even though it's great to have people offer to help, it's getting really old not seeing my daughter or wife anymore. I miss having them around. Once you have been married for awhile, sometimes when you have the house to yourself for a night, you enjoy the break. You stay up a bit later, watch whatever YOU want on TV, drink a few beers, it's kind of fun. The second night you attempt another dose of the single life, which doesn't taste quite as good, and by the third night, it's like swallowing a bitter pill. I'm just lonely. I don't sleep without my daughter in the other room.

I hate when my wife hogs the bed, or rips the covers off of me, but right now, I would kill to have her do that again.

I am now on day #13 of singleness. It's really not cool anymore. I'm ready to stop walking around in my boxers already.

I'm working midnights right now, which means I go to work at 9pm, get home around 7 or 8 am, and crash until roughly 4pm. That means you are a giant worthless turd for the duration of the daylight hours. I feel like the time flys by, and I don't know if I am coming or going. At least if the family was here I could spend some QT with them. I need to stop complaining. At least I have a job, thank you Jesus.

I realize this doesn't read very smoothly, I apologize. Look at the time I am posting this. At this time of night/morning I can only generate cognitive sentences. My ability to generate paragraphs departed around 1am.

Thanks for keeping us in your prayers. We need them.

Lesson's I (We) are learning - Day #37

It's now been 37 days since Liz first ruptured the disk in her back.

37 days since she has slept through the night.
37 days since she has walked to the bathroom, kitchen, bedroom, laundry room, etc. without bending over and nearly collapsing.
37 days since she was pain free.
37 days since things were last 'normal'.

Since this whole journey started we have seen 6 seperate doctors in two different cities 95 miles apart. We have seen:

The OB.
Family physician
Back Specialist
Pain Management Specialist
Osteopathic spinal manipulator
Physical Therapist
Spinal Neurosurgeon (Jack Shepherd)

Wait that's 7 doctors...

Liz has been poked, prodded, stretched and yanked in so many different ways, it seems almost comical when we go to a new doctor, because I just want to say, 'uh, excuse me, but this hasn't worked the last five times, let's try something new'.

The final diagnosis is that she has severly ruptured her L4/L5 disc in her back, causing her Sciatica Nerve to pinch which in turn atrophe's the muscles surrounding it causing spasm's of intense pain and general numbness down her right leg. Vicadin doesn't help cut the pain anymore. Tylenol is a joke, and we can't take anti-inflammatory's because of the risk to our baby in her belly. We can't do surgery either, because she is pregnant and spontaneous abortions are a serious risk for this type of surgery.

The Neurosurgeon's (Jack Shepherd) exact words to her on Monday morning were 'you are between a rock and a hard place. It's not going to be easy'. How is that for comfort? That's like saying, uh, your life is going to suck for awhile.

Our plan currently is to have a C-Section birth for baby numero dos, and 4 weeks later, Liz will go back under the knife for a Spinal Disk Fusion, where they will build a mechanical cage around her L4/L5 disc's so they can't rupture again. That is a 2-3 month recovery time. If you do the math out, it's looking like couch/bed rest for the duration of 2010. At least the fun parts of 2010.

Even in this situation, despite all the tears Liz and I have shed together, she has such a great attitude. She is still able to laugh, able to joke with me. I can't honestly say that if it was me, my attitude would be that good. Hell, my attitude sucks sometimes, and I can stand up whenever i want. Liz said to me the other day: "sometimes I hear someone complain, and i get so frustrated because they don't even understand, I would kill to have that problem. When this all goes away, and things go back to normal, I am going to remember how thankful I am for the little things"

Is that what you want to teach us God? Thankfulness? Submission to you? Reliance on you? Trust? Faith?

Can we stop learning lesson's the hard way please? It's our prayer that thru this extremely trying portion of life, we would be able to glorify God, and somehow use this experience to minister to someone down the line. We have no idea where God is taking this one, and we still can't see the light at the end of the tunnel. Sometimes I wonder if the tunnel is caving in, pray for us to Trust God.

Bucket List

Lately, I have been struck by how short and fragile life is. So here's a start at a bucket list.

1. Live forever.

Yeah, that oughta cover it.

The Earing in the Underpants.

To all of my devoted followers (the 4 of you):

I apologize for my blogging laziness. I have decided to redirect the intentions of this blog. Previously, I had strove for earth shattering insight. I will now attempt to share some of the lessons I have learned along the way as a father.

Lesson #1:

There are times when your daughter cries. She cries when she is hungry, tired, hurt, etc. Sometimes she cries when she has a dirty diaper. Normally though, she just smiles once she has finished releiving herself. After all, who doesn't enjoy a little poo in their pants?

This one particular day, Juliet and I were playing on the floor and she was frolicking like she normally does, when she started to fuss. First it was a minor fussing, than it was some wimpering, and within a few minutes, there was an all out wailing. I had no idea what brought this on, so I went thru the steps:

1. Did she bonk her head? - No bumps or red marks, Check.
2. Did she load her drawers? - Nothing stinks so, Check.
3. Is she hungry? - Want's nothing to do with Cheerio's or a Bottle, Check.
4. Is she tired? - Won't lay in my arms and rock with a bottle, Check.

At this point it's been 15 minutes of tears and bogus solutions, still with no resolution and I am getting frustrated. In my world of perfect logic, and cause and effect, there is no reason for this uncontrolled fussing. I start undressing her to put her in the tub (last ditch attempt for happiness), get her down to her diaper and take that off too. Lo and Behold, her dad-gum earing has somehow fallen out of her ear and into her diaper, and is poking her in the butt everytime she moves. Good grief, no wonder she's crying, she's getting jabbed in the ass.

Now I feel like a jerk for ever getting frustrated, because heck, I would cry if there was an earing in butt too.

Moral of the story: Not everything makes sense. Sometimes you have to look for the earing in the underpants.