All the Good Stuff and All the Funny Stuff

If you've been reading my blog lately, you might wonder what could possibly be good or funny about all that has transpired for me and my family during this astonishing, agonizing April.  All of the rain and stormy weather we've had could certainly be a metaphor for the turmoil I have experienced this month.  However, if you know me well you know that I choose to focus on the good and toss aside all the rest.  My focus does not linger on the storm.  I'm always looking for the sunshine that is just around the corner.  So, given that, I thought I would share all the good and funny stuff that has happened while we've been through the loss of one tiny baby who was not to be; one ER visit for our littlest guy; and one ambulance ride, time in PICU, and hospitalization of our middlest child, Ethan--all in the span of two weeks.

I guess the first good thing that happened during the midst of this was my fantastic road trip to Oklahoma City with an amazing group of ladies.  We went to a wonderful conference and it was the perfect mix of laughter and tears.  Mostly tears from laughter.  It was on the way down there, specifically in Vinita, OK; when I had the first sign that my pregnancy might not go to full term.  You might think that I would have wished to be home instead of on the road, but I believe God knew what He was doing in timing this conference with my own personal experience.  If I had been at home I'm sure I would have had more of a tendency to worry, but I was too busy and having too much fun to worry about anything.

After we returned home I had an ultrasound on that Monday morning which confirmed that I was, indeed, losing the baby.  There was sadness, but as I mentioned in a previous post, God answered my prayer and helped my boys to accept, in their own ways, that this baby was not meant to me.  This was a good thing that was heavy on my heart, yet God took care of it.

Two days later the cramping came with a vengeance each morning for four days--Wednesday through Saturday.  I felt almost normal in the afternoon and evening but could barely move for the pain in the morning hours.  It was that Thursday night at around 10:30 when Lindy and I realized that Gavin was going to require a trip to the ER.  I remember searching on my iPad for an urgent care that was open that late and saying under my breath, "God, I can't take much more at one time."  But, you see God has a sense of humor and He knew that what was to happen on Saturday was going to make Gavin's ER visit seem like a cake walk.  Had I known that Gavin's second trip to the ER in 6 months was going to turn out so well compared to Ethan's crisis, I would have been even more thankful.  If you missed the telling of Gavin's first trip to the ER, you can read about it here.  We do not plan on making a habit of this.  We don't want trips for Gavin to the ER to compete with all of Jac's "I knocked another tooth out" incidents or our numerous calls to Poison Control for Ethan when he was a toddler.  We called so many times that I just knew there was a red flashing light that went off every time a call came in concerning Ethan.  One of the last times, when he bit off a chunk of dishwashing cube, I just chose not to call.  I figured by that time we might just be one call away from Division of Family Services making a house call.

Gavin's ER visit turned out well.  He got some Prednisone and a couple more breathing treatments and they sent him on his merry way.  (I kind of had a feeling what he needed was Prednisone and when I took him for his follow-up appointment this week with our doctor I asked if I could just have some Prednisone at home in case this happens again.  His response was, "If Gavin is having enough trouble breathing that you think he needs a steroid, then he needs to be seen by a physician."  I think what he really wanted to say was, "What kind of nurse ARE you?"  Not the real kind, obviously).

I spent Friday morning in bed then was up and around in the afternoon and evening.  By that night, Ethan was coughing almost non-stop in spite of Benadryl, Robitussin, and breathing treatments.  He slept OK but was still in bad shape Saturday morning.  Lindy took him to Urgent Care because I was just starting to come around from the cramping that morning.  A good thing here is that the staff at the pediatric urgent care in our town is fabulous.  They were very concerned for Ethan and even left a message on our machine the next day inquiring about his condition.

If you read my last post about my remarkable boy, Ethan, then you know that he faced this whole experience without tears, complaining, or whining.  The first thing he had to face upon arriving in the ER was his mother who looked nothing like his mother.  Wet hair, no makeup....  Did I mention in my last post that I was in the shower when Lindy called to say they were taking Ethan in an ambulance to the hospital and that I BEAT THE AMBULANCE TO THE HOSPITAL??  Seriously, Ethan's concern probably rose considerably when he saw the condition I  was in.  "Wow, I must be doing bad if my Mom looks like this!"  The first thing that was funny to me was that in spite of the odd rhythm in my heart I noticed the shirt Ethan was wearing and tucked that visual away to chuckle about later.  He has this green t-shirt with orange lettering that says really big, "Why the Face?"    Maybe that isn't funny to you but in the condition he was in and all of the concerned faces around him, his shirt was asking "Why the Face?"  


I'm going to try not to re-tell stories from previous posts because I already included funny stuff there, but I will mention that after Jac was making fun of me as Ethan was throwing up at the sight of his IV being inserted, Jac had to leave the room and didn't come back.  I failed to mention that in the last post.  He couldn't stand seeing his brother go through all of this.  Maybe the memories were too fresh from Ethan's last ER visit, recounted here, and how concerned he was then for his brother.

During the hospital stay, Ethan was hot the whole time.  He is my cold-natured child just like me and at home he always wants to wear long pajamas at night.  He even tucks his pajama legs into his socks because his "ankles get cold."  Seriously.  He was hot due to all of the albuterol coursing through his system and Sunday morning the pulmonologist told us that in the previous 20 hours or so Ethan had already had more albuterol than most asthmatics take in a year!  So, Ethan is there with no shirt on and me with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders most of the time.  We were quite a pair.


We spent a lot of time on my iPad while in the hospital; me on Facebook, checking e-mail, blogging, playing Solitaire, etc.  Ethan mainly played games.  Ethan noticed that I still had the standard wallpaper on my iPad so he suggested we change that.  Here's the picture he wanted as my background:

He let me include his brothers for the wallpaper:

I was happy to comply and give him a little of the spotlight for the time being.




Another funny thing was the plethora of questions that Ethan asked me while he was in the hospital.  Not concerning his hospital stay, mind you, but just random questions.  I wish I had written them all down but here are two that I can recall:  "Mom, if you were going to get a million dollars would you let someone duct tape you to a wing of a plane and let them fly you one block?" and "Mom, if you were going go to go Las Vegas, not to gamble, but you were just going to Las Vegas; would you drive straight through?"  Not sure where he came up with those but there were many more and I answered all of them to the best of my ability.


We had some friends visit us in the hospital to pray for us and to bring us snacks.  I hope they don't mind me retelling this story but I won't mention names in case they do mind.  We were talking about the terrible storms and tornadoes and this close friend of ours told us about the time he was struck by lightning.  He told us that he went outside to watch a thunderstorm--without his shirt on--and chose to watch said storm by leaning against his gutter.  Lightning struck the gutter, shot down, and knocked him off his feet on to the ground.  Once his wife realized he was OK she was laughing at him while he was still on the ground.  I would sooooooo laugh at Lindy if he was dumb enough to do something like that.  He does other dumb things, as do I, he just hasn't done that before.  After they left, Ethan asked me, "Did he really stand outside during a storm without his shirt on leaning against a gutter and get struck by lightning?"  Apparently, he did.  Ethan said, "That was really idiotic.  Doesn't he know that when you live in Missouri you're not supposed to do that kind of thing?"  He does, but we all do stupid things sometimes.


I should mention here that another good thing that happened while Ethan was in the hospital was that I essentially had no cramping!  I felt like it was starting to come back on Sunday night but it did not.  It was a real concern of mine that I wouldn't be functional while Ethan was in the hospital due to the pain but I didn't have any.  I'm very thankful for that.


Another very good thing is that the pulmonologist told me Tuesday morning when he was recommending discharge for Ethan that some kids take 2 1/2 weeks!! to be weaned from the oxygen.  They can't leave the hospital while on oxygen.  Ethan turned it around in three days.  Very good.


Upon returning home on Tuesday I had to, once again, face the fact that I was still in the process of this miscarriage and I really did not want to deal with it.  Upon the urging of my boss/friend, Carrie, I called the doctor; fell apart on the phone to his nurse, and sobbed out my story to her.  I hadn't shed one tear since the Monday before when we found we were losing the baby.  My doctor wasn't swayed by my tears and said he still thought I should have surgery so a D&C was scheduled for early Thursday morning.  Wonder of wonders, I ended up passing the baby on my own on that Tuesday night with no cramping.  I went for an ultrasound on Wednesday to confirm that I didn't need surgery and had to be seen by one of my doctor's partners since my doctor was out of the office.  His partner walked in to the room and he said, "I think we've met before."  I replied, "Yeah, the last time you saw me you left me with a big scar across my belly."  (He was the doctor who did Gavin's c-section).   He pointed at me and said, "That's right, 'facial presentation.'"  "Yep, that's me, good ole 'facial presentation.'"  He confirmed that I didn't need surgery and said he would call my doctor and let him know.  He asked what time my surgery was scheduled the following morning and I told him 6:00 a.m.  He said, "Maybe I won't call your doctor and we'll just let him show up."  Not nice, but funny.  He called him.


When I think about how well Ethan handled his whole experience it shouldn't surprise me that he dealt with it with such a peace about him.  After all, I still read my little book, "God's Creative Power," shown here, all the time:

When I was reading it the other morning it struck me that one of the lines I recite all the time is "Great is the peace of my children for they are taught of the Lord."  Why shouldn't my children have peace, regardless of their circumstances?  I'm speaking peace over them every day.

Here's a last picture of our aptly named "Wire Boy."  I kept telling him that he was quite a "trooper" and he thinks that a "trooper" needs some kind of Stampede Nerf Gun.  I guess I might be shopping for one soon.  He has all of his tubes and IV on his left hand in this picture.  He had the pulse ox monitor on his right hand once in a while and he would ask the nurse to move it to the other hand.  He would say, "I just need one good hand, just one good hand."  :)  

I've titled this post "All the Good Stuff and the Funny Stuff" but, really, what it is is a real-life example of Philippians 4:8.  "...whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--think about such things."  I think we can include the "good stuff" and the "funny stuff" as 'such things.'  God wants us to keep our focus on Him, trust Him with all our hearts, think about the good stuff, and shake off the rest.  I pray you would put your trust in Him and see what He can do in your heart and life.  I know you won't be disappointed.

So, We are Having Jac Measured for Bubble Wrap

I hope this post publishes correctly since I've never completed one from my iPad before. If you've kept up with my blog this week you know that it's been pretty eventful for the Carnetts. I'm sitting next to Ethan as he lies in his hospital bed at St. John's. He was kicked out of PICU this afternoon so that was good news and he's continuing to improve.

Yesterday Lindy took Ethan to Urgent Care due to non stop coughing stemming from his allergies. He was having some major respiratory issues and the decision was made to take him to St. John's via ambulance. I had stayed home due to my major cramping issues which I mentioned in the previous post. When Lindy called to let me know about Ethan I was in the shower and Jac told me. If you know me well, you'll find this part of the story astounding. I drove with wet hair and no makeup from the north end of O'Fallon to St. John's and I BEAT THE AMBULANCE THERE!! The driving fast part shouldn't surprise you but the arriving at the hospital with a clean face and wet hair should. I also had Lindy yelling at me over the phone as I drove to the hospital telling me to go back home. Yeah, right. He had me on house arrest on Friday and only let me drive a mile from our house to get a pedicure with Jac along as my chaperone. However, this Mama Grizzly was not going to let any level of pain or discomfort keep me from my child. You Moms know what I mean.

When Ethan finally arrived with Lindy close behind Ethan was calm as could be. I felt horrible that I hadn't ridden with him in the ambulance but he just smiled and waved at me. He was probably a little disoriented at seeing me in my unheard of condition in a public place but he was just the picture of calm. He was a sick little boy, made more clear as the hours passed. He was in the ER for several hours getting breathing treatments continuously to try to keep his oxygen level up. He had to wear an uncomfortable mask yet never complained and he was awake and alert the whole time. He had the pleasure of having a new graduate nurse try out her IV starting skills and blood drawing skills on him. In the end it took 2 nurses to get his IV started and later 3 nurses to stick him to draw blood. Not one tear or ounce of whining. He did throw up during the IV process because he was watching, and Jac astutely pointed out that he must take after me. Thanks, Jac. Sad, but true. Part of his compliance with all of this poking and prodding might have been because all the nurses were young and pretty. I told them that he has a thing for pretty nurses. He didn't remember much at all from his ski accident in February but he could tell you the nurses' names.

After they determined that Ethan was going to spend the night in PICU he just continued to be a trooper. He liked his room and was glad to have his Mom and Dad with him. He continued on with the uncomfortable mask for hours on end, he had to use a urinal due to all his tubes and wires and still never complained. He has thrown up 4 times during this hospital stay, likely due to all the Albuterol coursing through his system yet after the third time he told me that this is why he could never work in a hospital--he doesn't want to have to clean up other people's vomit. He even had enough of his wits about him to fake vomiting once while holding his basin and saying "False alarm.". Not funny, Wire Boy. I texted my brother tonight to tell him that Ethan reminds me so much of how he would have reacted at 8 years old to the same situation, no tears, no whining, no complaining, etc. His response back was, "We like to think of ourselves as immortal, Ethan and I, but we're just flesh and blood. It's hard for us to let you see us this way, susceptible to common human ailments.". Yep, that's my brother.

I have to just add in here that when it came to who was staying with Ethan last night I was proud of Lindy. My feet were firmly planted here and there's no way I was leaving. Lindy had already planned to stay the night and have his Dad preach for him today, but he started having second thoughts last night about 10:00. If you know anything about living with a pastor you know that missing church on a Sunday is a big deal but missing church on Easter Sunday is practically a cataclysmic event. I knew Lindy was concerned for his Dad, as was I, as he hadn't been feeling well himself on Saturday. I told Lindy that if he felt he needed to go for his Dad's sake then I was OK with that, but if he was doing it out of a sense of obligation then we were going to have words. If you read my previous post you know that one of the themes was Lindy laying down the law about how they could get by without me at my work. Well, what's good for the goose is good for the gander. We both know that all of our church people love us and understand that sometimes family just has to come first and when you have a kid in PICU then it's one of those times--Easter Sunday or not. He ended up listening to my voice of reason...or was it my threatening voice reminding him of his own words? Either way I believe he made the right choice and they had a fabulous service today without the pastor, his wife, or the middle child. The only thing Ethan has come close to complaining about was missing church today. He wanted to dress up and be the kid to find the matzah. (you actually have to go to our church to get that).

Ethan is in a regular room now and is doing so great. We are hopeful that he might be discharged tomorrow but he has to be completely weaned from the oxygen and only on the breathing treatments every 4 hours. He'll be going home on an inhaler and another new medication. He was tested today to see exactly what he's allergic to and we will get back those tests in a few days. I've tried to focus on the health of my dear middle son and not the cost of his second ambulance ride this year, his second ER visit, his stay in the PICU, etc. Each time the nurse has said, "I'll go get him another dose of Zofran". ( an expensive nausea medicine) all I've heard in my head is Cha-ching!! The bright side is that we have insurance and we met our deductible with his last incident so we will only pay 25% of this bill!! Yea!! Just one more reason for me to avoid surgery for myself if possible. Still no end result there, by the way, but God answered my prayer and I had no cramping today. Praise God!

On the way home today to take a shower I told Jac that we are having him measured for bubble wrap because I need at least one kid who's not in need of emergency medical care. He started fake coughing for my benefit. Not funny. Gavin is doing much better and Grammy has continued with his breathing treatments and Prednisone. My parents are coming to visit tomorrow to help Lindy's parents with picking up all our pitiful pieces. The best part of this has been getting to spend some quality time with my middle son and feeling the outpouring of love and compassion for our family during this Holy week. It is still a Holy week, by the way, and Jesus is still risen, no matter our circumstances. He loves us and cares for us like no other can and He is the author and finisher of our faith and our Prince of Peace. Turn to Him in the midst of life's challenges and He will be your all in all.

So, No One Ever Told Me About THIS Part...

I've been thinking this week about all the girlfriends and family members I have who have experienced a miscarriage at some point in their lives.  There have been a lot of them.  After all, my doctor told me on Monday when he was comforting me with statistics that 15-25% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage.  It's not a highly unusual thing, but in all my years I only remember hearing stories relating to the tremendous emotional pain that accompanies a miscarriage.  At no time can I ever remember anyone telling me that trying to have a miscarriage on your own without the assistance of surgery is PAINFUL!!  I don't know why I never thought there would be much pain.  I especially figured the pain would be minimal since my baby was so tiny when I lost him or her.  Not so, my friend.  The cramping wasn't too bad between Sunday and Tuesday but Wednesday morning at work I was only moderately functional.  I even tried lying down for a while with no relief.  What seemed to work best was keeping the Ibuprofen flowing and sitting at my desk with a firm pillow pressed against my abdomen.  Yesterday was a repeat of the same except I was at home and decided I would still try to put away laundry, sort laundry, start a new load, etc.  This resulted in me being light-headed and faint.  I did have the wherewithal to call Lindy and let him know.  It was really just a courtesy call since I was caring for our child and wanted him to know in case I did, in fact, faint and left Gavin there to fend for himself.

That phone call was the beginning of the ending to my insistence that I could carry on with business as usual--miscarriage or not.  He insisted that I call the doctor and let him know how I was feeling.  While I was waiting to hear back from the doctor my mother just so happens to call while I'm lying down trying to get over being lightheaded.  When she found out my condition and that I was trying to do laundry and had errands to run later, she read me the riot act as only a mother can.  "Robin, you are not fine.  You are losing a BABY and you can't carry on as if nothing is happening!!  You are not going to work tomorrow.  If I have to have Lindy tie you down you are not running errands, going to work or anything else."  Of course, that phone call ended and the next call was from Lindy.  "Robin, you are not going to work tomorrow!"  Me:  "Did my mother just call you?"  Yes, of course she did and they had the same discussion they have regarding me about every six months or so.  I'm stubborn, no one can talk any sense into me, I'm going to do what I want to do regardless of what anyone else says, etc. etc. etc.  You get the idea.  Not long after that my doctor's office calls and he's insisting that I come in and be checked out to see if I have passed the baby yet.  My first instinct was that I could drive myself, but having just been read the riot act by the two people who have the most impact, I called Lindy and told him he was going to have to drive me.  I didn't think he wanted me driving myself and I was right.  So, we go to the doctor and find that I have not yet passed the baby in spite of all the pain and other symptoms.  He told me one of two things would happen this weekend.  I would cramp terribly, have other symptoms and call begging for a D&C or I would cramp terribly, have other symptoms and pass the baby.  I told him the Ibuprofen wasn't cutting it and I needed something stronger.  He gave me some Vicodin.

So, I let my boss, Carrie, know that I wouldn't be in today; and honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if she received a call from either Lindy or my Mom or both telling her that I was not allowed to come to work today.  Maybe you're wondering why I'm so stubborn about going to work and continuing on with business as usual.  I do recognize that life does go on without me and I know Cheryl and Tracie are more than capable without me there (yes, I do believe that, girls) but I felt there were things that really required my attention this week.  I needed to write an Action Plan and get our ship turned in the right direction, but our whole team has just as much ownership and capability as I do.  I just have an overreaching sense of responsibility and accountability and don't ever want to slack off or seem like I need special treatment.  I do not like drama in my life and prefer when I can just pretend that everything is OK and continue on with all of my responsibilities at home and at work.  I also do not like using my PDO (paid days off) for illness instead of vacation.  This really sounds loo loo when I tell you that I'm maxed out on my PDO and I need to use some so that I can continue accruing.  I know, I know....  I'm so crazy about this that two years ago in May, when I had the worst case of bilateral pink eye you've ever seen, I called Tracie to ask her to bring me to work.   I couldn't open my eyes to the sunlight so I couldn't drive but I thought if I could just get there I could still work with my blinds closed, lights off, and sunglasses on.  She told me I had lost my mind, she was not coming to get me, and she shouted at me, "Stay home!!  You are staying home!  I'm not coming to get you."  Thanks, Tracie, I needed the voice of reality because, obviously, I wasn't listening to my husband who had already refused to take me to work.

It made me crazy yesterday that I didn't get to the grocery store or any other errands.  Sunday is Easter, after all!!  I hadn't told Lindy yet that I was planning on cooking for his family on Sunday and had planned to get a ham and everything to go with it.  Once he found out that was part of my agenda in my attempt to carry on with life as normal, he absolutely said I could not to do it.

Today, Friday, I find myself sitting up in my bed typing on Lindy's laptop--still in my jammies, not allowed to carry laundry, put away laundry or go anywhere.  Lindy went to the grocery store.  Pray that he doesn't come back with crazy stuff--mainly fancy cheese and crackers.  That's the kind of food he likes to buy.  If you're wondering if the Vicodin helped out with the cramps this morning, it really didn't. Took the edge off, maybe.  But, I was still in bed for hours with my hot pack and trying to distract myself by reading.  This was after I was out of bed paying bills on my iPad, de-cluttering the kitchen, giving Gavin a breathing treatment....  Did I mention that Lindy had to take Gavin to the ER last night at around 10:45 because he was having retractions and couldn't catch his breath with all the coughing?  Oh, yeah.  That's going on too.  When it rains, it pours around here.  He has allergies that can turn into bronchospasms, and when the breathing treatments weren't working last night and I knew he needed Prednisone, our only option was the ER.

Just another week in the life of the Carnetts.  We'll get through it.  We have our risen Savior, prescription medicine, and each other.  :)  All will turn out fine.  I'm hopeful that by Sunday morning I'll be OK.  If you think my life doesn't stop during the week, it really doesn't stop on Sunday and it's Resurrection Sunday.  I don't have time for the pain.  (I think that's a song).  Unfortunately, it seems my cramping is holding to the morning hours and after it resolves--if I don't overdo it--the cramps go away.

I hope everyone has a wonderful Easter, and you all remember that Jesus is the Reason for this Season too.

Rejoice in the Lord...Always.

The last ten days have been a test of patience and my ability to really put my money where my mouth is when it comes to trusting God.  After all, as my Dad says, "Talk is Cheap."  I had the wonderful opportunity to go to Oklahoma City this weekend with a fabulous group of ladies from my church.  We had an amazing time at the Women of Joy conference with 9000 other ladies and every little bit of the trip was good, with the exception of some telltale signs that something probably wasn't right with my pregnancy.  Nevertheless, I was determined to go on and be joyful no matter what and truly enjoy the time with new and old friends.  I had such a peace the whole weekend and reminded God several times that I was trusting Him.  I always have, why would I stop now?  There were moments of hilarity and moments where tears were shed while listening to the speakers.  On the last morning with Karen Kingsbury when she asked us to all hold hands while she read her children's book about cherishing all the "lasts" with your children, I said to my friends on either side, "This is the last time I'm crying on this trip."  I'm not much of a crier and I have to remind myself sometimes that a good cry can be very cleansing.  There were certainly more tears of laughter this weekend than sadness.  I wouldn't trade my experience this weekend for anything.  It prepared my heart for what was to come this morning.

I went for my scheduled ultrasound and had Lindy on my arm this time.  If you need some background as to why I was having an ultrasound, then you'll have to go back and read the previous post.  I needed Lindy's presence although we were pretty silent.  Neither one of us had words to say and we had both spent the last ten days being pretty cautious while trusting God.  As soon as the nurse started the ultrasound I had my answer...this baby was not meant to be.  I'm supposed to be nearly 11 weeks now and there was still no growth.  The baby was still at 5 1/2 weeks and now the sac was irregularly shaped.  I didn't shed a tear until the nurse left and I sat on Lindy's lap and had a bit of a cry.  We spoke with my doctor in his office and I told him I'm so warped that I was feeling bad for him for having to give bad news to us.  I know that sounds crazy, but when you work in hospice and you know how bad it feels to share bad news you end up having compassion for the person who has to share the news.  He's been my doctor for 15 years and he was very kind and sincere.  He gave me all the statistics and data that I thrive on--I'm "Statistics Barbie," after all.  I've opted at this point to see if I can complete this miscarriage naturally since this pregnancy was in such an early stage and, hopefully, avoid surgery.  I told my doctor that I feel bad for being sad because I have three healthy boys at home and many women suffer the pain of miscarriage after miscarriage without getting to hold that baby in their arms.  He still gave me permission to be sad.  I've allotted myself one day of sadness, then I'll pick myself up and move on.

I went back to work for a while after leaving the doctor and Lindy was really perplexed about this.  What he doesn't understand is that my co-workers are some of my closest peeps and they have experienced this with me and I knew they would be a great source of comfort.  I was right and I appreciate each one of them and all of their kind words.  Several of them had even prayed for me when they learned the news with which I was coming back to the office.

One of my biggest concerns when I thought of the possibility of losing this baby was telling my three boys that the little brother or sister they were praying for was not going to grow in their Mom's belly and come to live with us.  What I forgot is that they are our boys and they have their own sense of peace and the ability to trust God on their level.  Lindy was very helpful when it came to telling them.  He told Jac by himself, then Jac came to me and told me he knew.  I was tearful while talking to him and when I had expressed to him all that I wanted to say I asked him how he felt.  He said, "Well, I knew this factor was always a possibility."  I laughed and said back to him, "You are definitely my child, very matter-of-fact and analytical."  Ethan reacted within his own personality.  His way is to be completely silent and to search your eyes intently so that he knows how to gauge his reaction.  I told him that this did not mean there was anything at all wrong with his Mom and I would be OK.  I smiled and looked in his eyes with the peace that's been so overwhelming throughout this situation and all was right in his world.   He gave me a hug and went to play outside.  Gavin thought he was getting a present when I told him his Dad had something to tell him.  (Maybe we spoil our kids too much.  I doubt it).  Lindy explained to him what had happened and while his expression went from expectant to concerned to acceptance he immediately went to the only question that mattered to him, "Are you going to have another, different baby?"  It's too raw and too soon to even begin that decision-making process, so I told him we would have to wait and see.  In the meantime this baby is in heaven with GG (his great grandmother) and he will meet him or her one day.  He only asked me another seven times.

So, my concerns were all for naught.  Jesus really loves the children as I repeatedly mentioned in this post.  Thanks to all my friends who knew this was on my heart and prayed for me in this situation.

Earlier, before I knew there was a concern with this pregnancy I had mentioned that I would be publishing a post about my conversations with Gavin about his soon-to-come baby brother or sister.  I've decided to go ahead and share it with you as I probably will move on after this and not publish much about this going forward.  So, here you go....

This was a conversation with Gavin on the way home from Grammy's house. I was 7 weeks pregnant and the news was not common knowledge yet to our church or my co-workers. Gavin was privy to this sensitive information and was having some issues with keeping the secret. I had already caught him 3 times at church trying to tell different people but, fortunately, no one bought it coming from Gavin. It's quite a challenge for a 5-year-old to keep a secret such as this.



Gavin: I've been thinking about the baby's name again. (He had previously suggested Charlie for a girl and Brick for a boy). I think we should name the baby Selena Gomez if it's a girl, but we can change the Gomez to Carnett. I still think it should be Brick for a boy.

Me: Good suggestions, Gavin. We'll keep working on the name.

Gavin: When the baby gets here I'm going to hit it.

Me: Hit the baby? Why would you want to do that?

Gavin: Ethan said I should.

Me: Gavin, you can't listen to everything Ethan tells you to do. He was probably joking.

Gavin: Well, Ethan's the boss. (That's an unusual, and inaccurate, statement coming from Gavin).

Gavin: How did that baby get in your belly? Did you swallow it?

Me: Ummm...no. (Long pause while I'm thinking about this one. I handled this one before from a curious 5-year-old when I was pregnant with Jac). Well, Gavin, when Mommies and Daddies love each other very much they can make babies.

Gavin: Did you know I prayed for a baby brother or sister? I was sitting in the dining room when I was praying about it.

Me: No, I didn't know that. I guess God must have answered your prayer.

Gavin: Or Santa Claus...All I know is that this baby better be a girl. We've got enough boys around here.


A few days later after the discussion of how the baby got in my belly, it naturally led to the discussion of...how was this baby going to get out of my belly.  His guesses were my mouth or my bottom--the latter being a pretty good guess but not quite right.  Thankfully, Gavin was born via C-section so I told him that the doctor had cut him out of my belly.  That distracted him enough by leading him to all the questions about whether that hurt or not.  He didn't go back to any further thoughts on how that baby was going to get out.

I'll close this post by letting you know that God's timing is perfect in all things.  The awe-inspiring assurance of His perfect timing has been on my heart for a long time.  Even before all of this happened I had decided God's timing would be my chosen topic for when Lindy hands the pulpit over to me on Mother's Day.  God's going to give me the grace to share what He wants me to say on that special day, even with this experience so very fresh in my heart.  You're welcome to come if you live in the area and you don't have a church home.  More information can be found at www.myrestorationchurch.org.  That's right, this time I gave a plug for my church.  It's still my blog, I'll plug if I want to.  :)

My sincere appreciation to all of you who have commented on my blog, on Facebook, in person, via e-mail, text message, etc. and have given me words of love and encouragement.  You'll never know how much it has meant.

Love to all....

This Was NOT the Next Post That I Wanted to Write...

Not only did I not want to write about it, I didn't even want many people to know about it.  This was not something I desired my tens of readers to be privy to, but sometimes I have to look beyond what I want and remember the purpose behind my blog.  My purpose is not to portray this wonderful life without trials or challenges.  My purpose is to be real and transparent and encourage and uplift others while they are experiencing life's trials by sharing my own challenges and how God alone is meeting my needs.

Does it usually appear that everything is going my way?  Of course it does and that's not by accident.  I purposely choose to see the positive in everyone and everything, I am definitely a "glass half full" person and I approach everyone as if they have pure, and not ulterior, motives.  Maybe this makes me naive.  If it does, then I am naive.  I am content with this life of contentment, regardless of my circumstances.

Given all of that, it's still easier for me to write about things that are funny or memorable.  As a pastor's wife it's easy for me to portray this life of contentment--and it isn't an act.  I am truly blessed but it doesn't mean that I don't go through hard times too...it's just difficult for me to admit it.  This is going to be another transparent post, so I hope you'll stay with me and not move on to watching funny youtube videos.

My last post talked all about how I am pregnant with our fourth child.  Once the anxiety of telling everyone was over it was really sunshine and lollipops last week.  Then, I went Friday for what I imagined would be a routine ultrasound.  I was 9 weeks according to my calculations but my doctor wanted to verify my due date with an ultrasound since my cycles were irregular when I conceived.  So, I went in all nonchalant about it, by myself, at 8:00 in the morning and was thoroughly perplexed and concerned when I found out that my 9 week pregnancy appears to look like a 5 1/2 week pregnancy on the ultrasound.  That's a pretty big discrepancy and not something I've ever experienced before as I've only had 20 week ultrasounds up until this point.  The ultrasound nurse was pretty evasive about it, as expected, and told me that my doctor would look at the pictures and call me that afternoon.  She left me alone for a minute and when she came back I asked her if I should prepare myself for a possible miscarriage.  She told me that it was too soon to be concerned with that, especially if I wasn't having any cramping or other signs of a miscarriage.

When I got in my car I did the first thing that always comes natural to me when I don't know what else to do.  I started praying.  I told God what I was feeling and that I knew that He was the Creator of all things and He knew about this baby before the beginning of time.  He knew Lindy and I had prayed for His will in our lives and that we would continue to trust in Him no matter what.  I felt bad for Lindy because when I called him I was having a hard time putting it all in words and I was just sure he was thinking I was calling to tell him that we were having twins.  I am not, but it seems that even that would be better news rather than this reality.  We both called our mothers to fill them in and then I told my fellow nurses at work.  They are fabulous at always telling me exactly what I want to hear, I'm sure sometimes to my detriment, and they said that everything is going to be fine.  Nothing to worry about.  Still, it's easy to get caught up in fear, doubt, and worry; isn't it?

I hadn't planned on sharing this with many other people, but of course, when you are newly pregnant everyone asks about you, how you're doing, how far along you are, etc.  That "how far along are you" question has suddenly become a bit of a dilemma for me.  I almost feel myself wanting to put a "kind of" on the end of the sentence when I talk about being pregnant.  Of course you can't really be "kind of" pregnant, but when your baby is 3 1/2 weeks smaller than it should be at this point it kind of feels like you're kind of pregnant.  In the midst of these thoughts, I still had one feeling that overtook all the others...peace.  The kind of peace that only God can bring and that he promises His children if we only put our trust in Him.

Friday night as I was lying in bed going to sleep I was praying and felt God speak to me.  He said, "Do you trust in my Word?"  (The Bible).  I told him yes.  He asked me if I speak the Word over my body.  (I answered yes.  I do and I have for a long time.  Since I've been pregnant I've spoken the Word over our "bodies" and I speak against any sickness, disease, syndrome, or malformation that could come upon this baby.  I don't just pray it.  I speak it out).  God said to me that night, "Then, I am bound to honor my Word."  You see, the Bible isn't just a book.  It's the living, breathing Word of God and we can depend on His promises.  Hearing God give me that affirmation only made my peace abound all the more.

Saturday we went through our busy day as if nothing was unusual.  Sunday morning, even though Lindy never tells me what He's going to preach I was right on when I guessed what it might be.  He alluded to what we are going through but didn't come out and say it.  If you ever wonder if pastors are preaching to themselves sometimes, the answer to that is a resounding yes.  They also preach comfort and peace to their wives too.  He preached on one of my favorite passages of Scripture--Proverbs 3:1-6.  The part that struck me, of course, was verse 5 where it says, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding."  It's easy to trust Him when everything is going along swimmingly.  Not as easy when there are unanswered questions and cause for anxiety in our human, finite minds.  The part that really stood out to me though on Sunday morning was the second part of that verse, "...and lean not on your own understanding."  You see as a nurse I try to understand anything medical with my knowledge of the human body.  My understanding as a nurse of a 9 week ultrasound with a baby at the size he or she should be at 5 1/2 weeks tells me that the baby isn't growing properly or that the baby stopped growing 3 weeks ago and my body hasn't figured it out yet.  However, if I put my trust in the Lord and determine not to lean on my own understanding then I have to acknowledge that He is the Creator of all things and He is still in the miracle-working business.  He cares for every living thing, and yes, I believe a tiny little microscopic embryo is a living thing.  That passage goes on to say in verse 6, "in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight."  I know that He is going to make our paths straight in this situation.  We love the Lord and Romans 8:28 promises that "in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose."  He's bound to honor His Word because He promised to and He keeps His promises.  Lindy didn't use that last verse.  That was a bonus from me.  If you are interested in hearing a sermon that will bring you peace and encouragement, then I suggest you go to www.myrestorationchurch.org and click on the podcast link.  Yesterday's sermon will be posted by tomorrow at noon.  Yes, that's a shameless plug for my husband and his fabulous sermonizing.  It's my blog, I'll plug if I want to.  :)  It's your choice how to spend the 45 minutes or so it would take to listen to it.

Now, of course you know that in the midst of this I did some googling to get other people's opinions about this situation even though I know God is still in control.  I've learned to throw out the bad and hold on to the good when it comes to looking things up on the internet.  Back in the day before the internet when I only had my enormous nursing textbooks I went to the doctor because I was always diagnosing myself with one thing or another when I was in nursing school.  He encouraged me to put away the textbooks and "Stop it!!!"  I know a lot of doctors and nurses who wish medical information wasn't so easily accessed via their patients' fingertips or by watching Dateline NBC.  Anyway, while googling, I found several people's experiences with this same dilemma and the babies turned out perfectly fine.  I threw out the ones that weren't as positive.  The one I liked the most was a girl who said she was nine weeks along when she had an ultrasound and the baby was the size she should be at 6 weeks--just an empty gestational sac.  They were alarmed as well, but she was proud to say that they just celebrated their "empty sac's" first birthday.  Fabulous!!

I don't know why we go through some things in life, but as long as I'm going through something like this I might as well be transparent and, hopefully, bring some peace or encouragement to someone else.  Trust me, it would have been much easier for me to just remain silent for the next week and then act as if there was never any concern.  If I were to admit to any fear beyond something wrong with the baby or the possibility of losing the baby, then it would be having to tell three little boys that the little brother or sister they are praying for is not to be.  They don't read my blog and they don't know anything about this.  If you would like to keep Lindy and me in prayer over the next week then we would appreciate that.  If you want to leave me a comment and tell me that everything is going to be OK, then I'm cool with that too.  I'm having a repeat ultrasound on Monday morning, the 18th, so I will be sure to share the good report at that time.

I pray this week is a week of peace, abundant blessing, and favor for you.

Love to all...

You're Pregnant? Seriously? I Thought You Said You Were Just Having "My Three Sons"

So, I'm pregnant and the word is officially out now.  The most common reaction from friends and family has been shock and amazement.  I can't say that I blame them since I have always contended that I would only have three kids.  I never saw myself as a Mom of four, but I guess when you open your heart to what else God might have for you rather than the perfectly planned-out life that you have set up for yourself, plans can change.  Before you think this baby was a surprise, think again.  Due to my advanced maternal age this baby actually took longer to...initiate...than the other three combined.  You're probably thinking now, "What?  You actually planned to have a baby after Gavin started kindergarten."  Not exactly, but that's the way God's perfect timing is working in this situation.  Let me go back in time a little bit for you to give a better explanation.

If you're looking for a tangible reason for this change in my heart your finger could be pointed down to one person.  Her name is Grace and she is 2 1/2 years old.  Here's a picture of her.

My husband might not have put two and two together yet but I have.  You see, Grace's parents came to our church as our Student Ministries pastors when Grace was only about a month old.  We interviewed them when Dawn was great with child about 6 weeks before Grace was born.  I'll be honest, and it's nothing against Grace, but I was not nearly as enamored with her as someone else.  I was still holding strong to my belief that God had given me three healthy boys and I would be content, and was content, to be their Mom.  Lindy, on the other hand, was smitten.  And so started the endless procession of people coming to me with, "You know Pastor Lindy would like to have another baby, don't you?" or "Pastor Lindy just loves little Grace.  I think he would like to have a little girl."  This went on for about a year or more and I never took anyone seriously.  I was still holding hard and fast to My Three Sons.  Grace's parents didn't help matters because they both said they just knew I would have another baby.  Of course, this is coming from two people who only have two kids and only will have two kids--unless God plans different.  I had even tried to broach the subject with Lindy about doing something to permanently fix the possibility of having more kids.  He wouldn't hear of it.  After multiple excuses, eventually the reason he gave was that he was too young for that.  OK...yeah.

So, on we went with him hinting around and me very closed to the idea until last summer.  I had lunch with my good friend Crista, who just so happens to also be one of my employees.  Crista is a counselor and she also counsels me, maybe unwittingly, when we go to lunch.  You see, when you're a pastor's wife and expected to be the one with all the answers you need someone like Crista in your life to talk to and help you find answers.  I don't remember our exact discussion but I know by this point I was considering it but only if this baby would be born prior to August 1, 2011.  What??  (That's the cut-off date for school enrollment in Missouri and I was only interested in having another baby if it meant he or she would be able to start school in five years instead of six.  I know, I'm crazy neurotic).  Crista just casually mentioned, "Well, that doesn't give you much time does it--about 4-5 months."  At that moment, since I had put this stipulation on conception timing I knew it was now or never.  I was the poster child for fertility having conceived Gavin after only one month, so I figured once I told Lindy it would happen pretty fast.  When it didn't happen in 4-5 months and I mentioned to Lindy that we had reached my deadline, he said, "Well, you said that was your deadline.  That didn't mean I agreed to it."  I went back and told Crista and she reminded me that maybe this wasn't about my timeframe.  Maybe there's a reason why God would give me this last child in His timing and not mine.

I should stop here and say that coming to this decision was not easy for several reasons.  I never thought I would have a baby after 35 and I'm a...few years beyond 35.  In addition to that, I have battled the inner ear problem that I mentioned in this transparent post that started when Gavin was a toddler.  (By the way, I am doing fabulous with it and have only had one bad equilibrium episode in the last 6 months and for the past four weeks I have had almost no ringing in my left ear.  I can even talk on the phone with my left ear and that is huge).  There was also the hurdle to get past of "starting over."  My boys are pretty self-sufficient, Gavin is fully potty-trained and starting school in the fall, and now we're going to go back to nighttime feedings and chasing a baby?  You understand.  The women reading my blog will also understand my hesitance to go back to gaining all that weight again.  Yikes!  I'm not one of those cute pregnant women who just have a little basketball in front.  I get pregnant everywhere and losing the weight has gotten harder, not easier, with each pregnancy.  I lost every pound after Jac in 2 1/2 weeks.  It was not to be repeated after Ethan and Gavin.

Even given all of those reasons, the most difficult hurdle to get past had less to do with anything physical and everything to do with something very emotional.  You see, I had always imagined that I would have at least one girl.  Growing up, I was very girly and dreamed of one day having my own little girl.  My Mom and I have always had a wonderful relationship and I wanted to have that with a daughter of my own.  When we found out Jac was going to be a boy it was OK, because we fully intended on having more children.  When I had my ultrasound and learned Ethan was on his way it took me about three days to accept it.  The turning point was looking at all of Jac's little baby clothes and thinking how fun it would be to have another little boy to wear them.  You knew it had to have something to do with clothes, didn't you?  If Ethan had been a girl I might not have been as willing to have another baby.  When it came to getting pregnant with Gavin I waited until I was at the place that I truly wanted another baby.  I didn't want to get pregnant just with the intention of having a girl.  I was at that place...or so I thought until I had the ultrasound.  My parents were there with us (this was a first) and when I found out he was going to be a boy I laid on the table silently crying.  Of course, I was thrilled that he was healthy, but learning that he was a boy was, to me, the death of my dream of having a little blonde-headed daughter because the personal limit I had set was three babies.  That night at home I mainly stayed in my room with my mother and mother-in-law coming and going and grieving with me.  I understand that in being transparent about my feelings this may evoke some harsh judgment from some people.  If you are in a place of having fertility issues then you're probably saying, "Cry me a river, will you??  You're upset that you have three healthy boys??"  I totally get that, and even in the moment, part of my grief was the guilt over being so very selfish as to be sad over having three healthy boys.  All I can say is I'm sorry and I understand where you're coming from.  I have an old friend, Tracy, and we used to work together.  She had, at the time, a 2-year-old little boy named Joe.  She had Joe before we started working together and I didn't have any children at that point.  Tracy and I shared an office and she told me the story of when she was pregnant with Joe.  At her 20-week ultrasound Tracy was told she was having a girl.  She was overjoyed.  It was her first baby.  She had baby showers and was given everything pink.  They decorated the nursery in pink and were preparing to have little Caroline (I hope I remember the name right, and I love that name).  A week before she was to give birth she found that Caroline was not really Caroline.  Caroline was going to be a boy who they would name Joe.  Tracy told me that she really went through a time of grieving for the little girl she had lost.  Even though she hadn't really lost a baby and this couldn't really ever be compared to losing a baby, she grieved still over the loss of the idea of having a girl.  She had Joe and loved him to pieces.  She went on to have another boy named Jack and now they are both in high school.  I know she wouldn't trade either one for a million girls just like I wouldn't trade my boys for girls.  I love each one of them so much and my idea that another boy would be just more of the same was so wrong.  They are each unique and special in their own way.

So, this grief over closing the door to ever fulfilling my dream of having a girl didn't end in just one day. It would come in waves throughout my pregnancy.  One wave came one morning when I was getting ready for work.  I was weeping so much that I couldn't put on my makeup.  I'll tell you, that has never happened before or since.  Nothing keeps me from putting on my makeup.  I didn't tell Lindy what was going on because I don't think he could really understand what I was going through.  I drove to work, weeping, with my makeup in hand.  The person I turned to at work was the last person you would think I should turn to but the only person I wanted to see.  Another friend and employee, Margaret, was my designated shoulder to cry on.  Even in the midst of all my tears I was still apologizing to Margaret for putting all of this on her because she had wanted to have children and it was not something that ever happened for her and her husband.  She and her husband are actively involved in their church and have lots of "kids" with their youth group.  I felt guilty, but Margaret was as kind and comforting as she always is in any situation.  She is such a dear friend and related to my grief in a way most people wouldn't.  Just yesterday she came to me and we talked about that day.  She told me that if I have that moment again this time around, she wants to be that shoulder again.  What a friend.  Everyone should have a friend like that.

So, now you know all my reasons for not wanting to have another baby.  My heart eventually did heal and when Gavin arrived he was welcomed with open arms.  I still avoided girl clothes in stores, but I was ready for a third boy.  I love Gavin to pieces, although when he was about three years old and I was putting him down for a nap while he was really giving me fits, I thought to myself, "This child might not live to see the age of four and Lindy wants to go through all of this again???"

Given all of those reasons, why would I agree to another baby?  Well, let's just say that my husband is very charismatic and I adore him.  He was convinced that another baby was a good idea.  In the end, I decided that I would at least not prevent it and let God decide--not "let God decide"--Duggar-style--but just for this last one.  In the beginning I was relieved each month when it was not to be, but over time God worked on my heart and the relief began to change to disappointment.  That's when I was more confident that maybe this might be a good thing.  Still, no one knew except for Crista that another Carnett could be a possibility.  I thought someone might guess when they read the end of this post about my love story with Lindy, no one did.  You might pick up on it if you read it again.  I was already pregnant, and knew it, when I wrote that post.  I also know that I can have real issues with control and things going the way I think they should.  Having another baby is completely outside my frame of reference for what I thought my life would be at this age, but maybe that's another way that God is showing me once again that His way is perfect, not mine, and I should rest in Him knowing that His ways are higher than my ways.  Also, the night we announced to our families we were expecting--which just so happened to be the 20th anniversary of the day Lindy and I met--my Mom told me something I had never known.  Her grandmother, my great grandmother, was 40 years old when my grandmother was born.  She was the last of nine children.  It struck me that none of us in my Mom's family would be here, including my own children, if my great grandmother hadn't had that last baby at the age of 40.

I promise this blog is not going to turn into your standard pregnancy blog--not that there's anything wrong with that.  I enjoy reading my friend Stephanie's blog that is all about her first pregnancy and I've learned a lot from reading.  She actually had me considering cloth diapering, just for a moment.  I've been down this road before and I'm an old pro after four, not Michelle Duggar type of old pro, but I kind of know what to expect.  My blog won't turn into a pregnancy play-by-play.  I will post anything that I think is funny, memorable, poignant, or touching.  Soon to come is a post on recent conversations with Gavin about his soon-coming baby brother or sister.  It's on the funny side.

Thanks for reading and to everyone, especially Carrie, for being so amazingly supportive.  All our friends and family are very excited--at least on the outside.  They might be messing with me and chatting about the old pregnant lady behind my back, but either way baby is on the way.  Ultrasound tomorrow to determine the official due date.  I was 9 weeks along yesterday so in another week I'll be 25% of the way through this pregnancy.  (Margaret calls me "Statistics Barbie" so I had to throw that in).  We're hoping for an 11/11/11 birthdate.

More later.  Love to all....