Parenting in Crisis

I was shopping at Costco last week with my Nora, and (as most Costco trips go) the longer I roamed the aisles and filled that big ol' shopping cart with glorious amounts of bulk food items and paper goods, the more unwieldy it became.  While I was scoping out the children's pajamas in the clothing section, I came upon a cute little girl, with a thick fringe of brown bangs (not unlike the kind I sported as a little girl) and I made an abrupt stop to keep my cart from plowing her over.  I guessed her to be maybe 3 1/2 or 4 years old, and I gave her a smile, as I saw and heard her mother scolding her for wandering in front of my cart.

"That's okay!" I assured the other mom, "I have three kids of my own.  I get it. And she was not a bother to me!"

"Three!" she responded, "you have your hands full!" she said

"I do," I agreed, smiling, and added, "but they are a blessing."

"Well.  They are SOME of the time." she replied.

In the next moments, I responded with a candor that is characteristic for me in my interactions with strangers and new acquaintances... and sorely lacking in discretion (which is certainly a discipline in my life that is begging for growth and improvement).  But for better or for worse I opened my mouth and said,

"Well, I'll tell you what. Six months ago, my husband fell off a 15 foot ladder, sustained a spinal cord injury and his life changed forever. But he is making an amazing recovery and I don't think he could have gotten through these difficult months nearly as well if it weren't for the motivation and smiles that our three children have afforded him."

Ooops.  Had I really just said that?  Had I just reprimanded a poor unsuspecting woman who had probably just had a rough day with her pre-schooler? Heck, I know that pre-schoolers (even cute, curious ones with fringe bangs) are notorious for pushing boundaries, trying to usurp control from their parents and being inflexible and demanding.  Did I really have to make her uncomfortable with our big dramatic spinal cord injury story that is about as heavy as that big cart I was pushing around and almost ran her daughter over with?

To this fellow, Costco-shopping mommy: I don't think you will ever read this, but if by some strange coincidence you do, please receive my apologies for blurting that out.  It was impulsive, preachy and uncalled for. I am embarrassed and I am sorry.

But, if any kernel remains from my display of candor in Costco... if any good stays with me from that memory, it is this: Raising little children is hard. Raising little children in the midst of family crisis and upheaval is harder than I could have ever dreamed.  Sleepless nights with a teething toddler, behavioral challenges that are out of this world with my older two, their innocent and heartbreaking questions shooting straight through all of my fears and confusion when our world as we knew it was crumbling down and taking an unrecognizable form.  Coordinating childcare when needed, attempting to keep some of our homeschooling routine, getting them to their own doctors appointments, dance classes and art classes. Getting them to bed at night before double digits, talking them through their traumatic memories from the day their daddy fell and was whisked away to the hospital on a fire truck... Fielding all of this while trying to support and advocate for Darin and learning to provide care for him that I never dreamed would be required of me at the age of 34. No doubt about it.  This has been complicated.  And crazy hard.

But our three sweet babies.  Lucy. Collin. Nora.  They are gifts from the hand of God Almighty, vessels of His grace, and healing balm to our souls.  I don't know if they will ever know how much they mean to us, now more than ever, unless or until they have babies of their own someday. 


Everyday I stumble as their mother. Every day, there is some way that I don't do right by them. But I hope. And I pray. That they too will see and receive grace upon grace poured out over them from God in Heaven and if Darin and I get to administer some small portions of that grace as we parent them in the midst of these challenging and difficult times, we consider it a beautiful privilege and honor.

xoxo,

Hands that Help

"What can I do to help you?"

No sooner had Darin fallen off that ladder than I started hearing a chorus of voices asking this and other variations of this question. It is a curious thing to be in the midst of a crisis and have so many offers of help from family and friends that you can't accept each one. I have experienced a lot difficult emotions as a result of Darin's accident. I have been overwhelmed, afraid, in denial, despondent and angry.  But I have not felt lonely.  Nor have I been tempted to feel that way. I have never wondered where help would come from when Darin, the kids or I needed it. Because it came, and often it was on its way before I even knew we needed it. 

Have you ever known someone who was in the midst of a devastating crisis and you felt compelled to come to their immediate aid but you had no idea what was truly needed or wanted?  Often in these situations it is so difficult to imagine what it is like to be at the center of the crisis that you feel helpless to offer anything of value.  I have been there. I have offered and given help to others that did't seem like "enough". I confess I have also hung back and not helped at all because I couldn't think of "the right help to give" or was afraid of "being a nuisance".

Being in the center of a crisis situation and on the receiving end of help from my community has given me fresh insight.  I have learned that often God answers cries for help from His children though the willing hands of His other children.  I have been reminded that God has given His people unique gifts.  And when they use their gifts in small ways and He orchestrates and unites their offerings to accomplish His work, it brings Him Glory!

Have you ever read one of those popular blog posts or articles circulating around the internet that provides lists of "do's" and "don'ts" to remember when you are interacting with people who are on a journey unlike your own? You know like "10 things NOT to say to someone whose dog just died" or "5 things you can do to avoid a negative relationship with your daughter-in-law".

I like those articles. Kind of. Except for when they set people up to think they are going to fail at helping others before they even try. Or encourage you to be so fearful of saying "the wrong thing" that you don't say anything at all.  

No one voice can represent an entire population of folks who are suffering. Different personalities might feel loved and supported by different kinds of gestures. So rather than share list of specific recommendations of things to do or not for people in crisis, I would like to share a sampling of things that people did for our family while Darin was in the hospital. I hope that it will inspire and empower you use your unique gifts to do small things that make BIG impacts in the lives of people who are hurting.

On the evening of Darin's accident, my friend, Shannon, was by my side and she drove me home to pack a bag for myself and she helped me think through what I might need because my head was swimming too much to think and plan accordingly.  She was also the person who was there at the hospital just for ME on the day of his surgery.  She walked me to the cafeteria when I needed to try to eat something. She encouraged me to find a place to lay down and rest when I needed to. She took my phone from me when she could tell I needed a break from frantically responding to texts or updating my Facebook status.

While Darin was in the ER, our pastor, Scott took my phone and kept it charged and helped me communicate with my and Darin's families so I could focus my attention on Darin and just be there for him.

Denise, Laura, Niki, Jamie and Jonna (friends who were already familiar with my kids' quirks, routines, likes and dislikes provided the immediate childcare) and also helped to coordinate volunteers for future Childcare needs.

My neighbors, Karmen, Lindsey, Sacha and Niki were always there to give a hug or a listening ear in the evenings when I came home and took my nightly walk around the block with Nora in the stroller.

Scott, Jonna and Shannon created a meal sign up on a website and organized a system for dropping meals off so I didn't have to figure all of that out.  They also started a Facebook group for prayer and support and communication for the masses who were interested in updates.

Mark, Joel, Ned, Noah, Tim, Matt, Scott, Chris, Cameron, Jon, David, Jonathan, Eric (all men who have been a spiritual encouragement in Darin's life at one point or another) came to the hospital and prayed for him, read and declared truth from God's word over him and often stayed with him through the night so that I could spend the nights at home with the kids but know Darin wasn't alone.  I affectionately refer to these men in my mind as our "band of brothers."  When any one of them showed up at the hospital I would immediately feel a burden of weight lifting off of my shoulders.  Their presence made Darin stronger. They gave me big-brotherly advice when I didn't know how to support Darin. They gave reassuring hugs. I don't think that Darin and I could have made it through his time in the ICU without them.

James and Katie, as well as Jessica and Milo are friends who gave birth to babies in the same hospital that we were at.  They both let me come and hold their sweet newborn babes which was a great escape for me when things were hard at the hospital

Jaime, Darin's coworker who is an RN (an exceptional one at that) visited us several times in the hospital and helped me understand from a medical standpoint a lot of what was going on. Even thought the doctors and nurses on duty were exceptional and accommodating, Jaime filled in the gaps and helped me when I needed additional explanations and reassurances.

Darin's boss, Mike, asked for a list of needs that we had and then worked with Darin's coworkers to meet them. He also went above and beyond to help us figure out his medical leave and benefits.  Mike and all of Darin's co workers have been by our side and provided in practical ways for the long haul. 

Another cohort from Darin's workplace built a wheelchair accessible ramp for our front door.  

Paul and Denise helped keep things running smoothly at home.  They've quietly, faithfully taken care of our pets, taken out our trash, provided stability for our children and supplied us with ice cream.

Sarah, a friend who runs an in-home-day care AND owns a gluten-free bakery kept Nora in the mornings for me and supplied Darin with yummy treats (both free of charge)!! Oh yeah, and she and her husband GAVE  us a mattress and box spring for our main floor for Darin's new bedroom. 

A sweet couple, Dean and Kelsey, took our little dog Minnie into their home and cared for her for several weeks when it became too difficult to care for her at our house.

Batman (yes, Batman) from an amazing group called "The Iowa League of Heros" made a special appearance at the hospital to cheer and encourage our children when they were out of sorts and worried about their daddy. 

Our friend, Troy, a builder, did the necessary changes to our main level bathroom so that Darin could access it when he returned home.

Teri, Laura, Jamie, Lindsay and their husbands helped me purge and organize our belongings in our house and rearrange rooms so that Darin would have a place to sleep on the main level of our home when he was discharged from the hospital. Dawn got my kids out of the house and spoiled them for a while when we worked on these projects.

Darin's parents and siblings, though they were suffering right alongside us, worked tirelessly to care for the kids, be by Darin's side in the hospital (day and night), and keep things running smoothly at our house.  I love being a team with them.

My parents traveled to Iowa and stayed with us for two weeks, helping with Childcare while Darin was In the hospital.

My friend Libby, a trained massage therapist, came to the hospital and worked the knots and kinks out of my shoulders.

Amy, a thoughtful friend, printed out pages of encouraging scriptures to put on the wall of Darin's hospital room. She also sent some snacks for me.

Mark and Cindy gave me a gift card for the hospital cafeteria for my meals while I was there.

Our church held a small worship service right in the courtyard of the hospital so that our entire family could perticipate and fellowship together.

An entire ARMY of friends, co workers, and relatives came to our home on the weekend before Darin's return home to complete a long list of projects that Darin had on his to do list before his accident. 

Y'all, this isn't even all of the help we received. It is too numerous to mention it all.  AND this was all provided just during the time of Darin's hospital stay. It would take another blogpost to share about the help that has come our way since he returned home almost four months ago. 

To those mentioned (and not mentioned) here.  Thank you. I could never repay you. Thank you for being the hands and feet of Jesus.  Thank you invconveniencing yourselves. Thank you for using your gifts to help. Thank you for not letting us walk through our crisis alone. You are appreciated and loved. And I pray for God's hand of blessing to fall upon you.

Xoxo,

The Only Thing That Feels Normal

The moment I was brought back from the waiting room in the ER to see Darin for the first time since we'd arrived, I lacked confidence that there was anything I could do to comfort or help him.  I was afraid to touch him, as if I would cause more damage in doing so.  He was conscious and answered my questions, but the intensity of his pain and then the strength of his pain meds kept us from really conversing.  Pastor Scott encouraged me to pray for him out loud when I was at a loss of what to do for him, and I did, but I struggled to see my efforts as amounting to anything of value.

Later that night, Darin was transferred to the ICU and I only felt more reluctant and lacking in confidence to offer anything.  I wanted to support him, but IVs, monitors, beeping machines and the hustle and bustle of medical staff all seemed beckon me into the background.

I spent the first night in the hospital, but soon realized that I would need to stay at home for the overnights thereafter,  We had family members and willing friends to stay with him during the long nights ahead (more on that later) but our children needed the presence of their mother at night and I needed to try to be somewhat rested for spending my days at the hospital.  I slept in our guestroom at home.  I just couldn't handle being in OUR bed without him.  Sleep was hard to come by and was often interrupted by anxiety attacks. I missed him terribly. I wished he could hold me.

I was put in touch early on with another woman whose husband experienced a spinal cord injury a few years back and is now living with paraplegia.  We started to connect through phone calls and texts.  An early message from her read:

 "Keep your chin up.  He's still with you and that's what is important. He still has arms to hold you and the kids."

Her words were so reassuring.  Getting to a place where he could hold me again seemed pretty far off but eventually, after he'd been on the rehab floor for awhile I was able to climb onto his hospital bed and squeeze in next to him every so often.  One of those times he said to me:

"Holding you is the only thing that feels normal to me right now."

Even though I had gained more confidence to support him, encourage him and advocate for him long before that moment, I realized something very important right then. It was not what I did for him that made the biggest difference.  I wasn't going to let him down or mess things up if I didn't always know the "right way" to react in moments of crisis.  I was giving him a gift simply by letting him hold me. I was the only thing that "felt normal" when everything else had changed.

We, like every couple, have had our struggles in marriage. We have had times where we felt like we just kept dealing with the same "issues" over and over and over again.  Every so often it has seemed like a losing battle.  Forgive the cliche but the fiery trials we have been facing during the past couple months have truly burned away the petty things and revealed just how much victory God has actually given us.  Victory might not have always "felt" like what we wanted it to through the years.  But now I believe that victory is "holding on" even when it is hard.  And now, it is literally the best gift we can give to each other.

xoxo,

Sometimes Fear Traps Us in a Dungeon

Darin had recently been transferred out of the ICU.  It had been over a week since Lucy and Collin saw their daddy whisked away on a fire truck and in a couple of days they would see him for the first time since the accident.  It was a daunting task, but I knew I needed to start explaining to them that their daddy's injury would mean permanent changes for him and all of us. I showed them a picture of their daddy immobilized in the ICU complete with an NG tube, all kinds of monitors, and a picc line.  I told them that when he came home, he would be in a wheel chair and probably wouldn't be able to walk yet (if ever). I told them that no one but God knew when he would be able to come home from the hospital.  For a five and seven-year-old, it already seemed like an eternity since they'd seen him.  I was not prepared for all the questions that would come from them, particularly from Lucy, when I gave them this information.  Here's a sampling from one of our conversations:

"How will Daddy go potty when he gets home?"

"Well. I don't know yet.  But the doctors and nurses will teach him how to go potty."

"How will he get his pajamas on?"

"Well, I will help him!"

"But are you strong enough?"

"Well, I don't know! But I hope so."

I ended up being grateful for the questions, because they helped me to systematically confront many of the disorganized  fears that were floating around in my brain. Our family has faced a lot of fears, starting the moment the accident occurred, and new ones have popped up each day ever since. 

Two days after the accident-the day before Darin's surgery-I was pretty shaky with fear.  I could best describe it as the feeling you have when you are about to throw up.  You aren't looking forward to it, but you know that you will probably feel better when it is all done so you wish you could hasten it. On that day, I was talking to my sister on the phone and she told me that her youngest daughter, my 11-year-old niece, Grace, had written and illustrated a story for my kids that was intended to help them through this difficult time.  She hadn't put all the finishing touches on her artwork, but my sister promised to send me pictures of the story in a series of texts.  When I received them, the story took my breath away.  It turned out to be the very thing I needed to get through that day:

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess named Lucy.  There was also a very strong and courageous knight named Collin"

"One day, Collin was on his way home from outsmarting a giant and conquering a dragon and he heard the beautiful voice of a girl singing a beautiful song. He thought, 'Oh my, that must be Princess Lucy!  I must go and see her!' But there was one problem. He couldn't find where she was."

" 'Hmmm,' he thought, 'How will I be able to know where Princess Lucy is? Ooh! Maybe I should call her name and she will answer me!' He cupped his hands around his mouth and called, 'Oh Lucy!  Where are you?!' Then he heard a faint, 'Down here, strong and mighty Collin, the monster has put me in a dungeon!' "

" 'What monster? Is it a dragon? I'm good at fighting dragons!' Collin said. 'No,'  Lucy said, 'It's a very bad monster, his name is Fear. You have to conquer it!' Lucy was shaking, just thinking of his name. 'Don't worry, I will,' Collin said.  Then, Fear started coming out."

" 'He's (gulp) bigger than I thought,' Collin said.  Then Lucy whispered, 'Pray! Think something like God is with me, God is with me! It will help!'  Collin started to slowly walk toward Fear, thinking, 'God is with me, God is with me!' Fear felt really confused, because Collin wasn't scared."

"Fear started backing away while Collin was stepping forward.  Then Collin smiled.  He stopped, he looked fear right in the eye and yelled at the top of his lungs, 'I...AM...A...STEVENSON!!'  Fear looked terrified. Then, in a sudden burst, he disappeared."

" 'We conquered the fear! We conquered the fear!  Hooray!' Lucy and Collin shouted with delight. And ever since that day, when Collin conquered the fear, Lucy and Collin and the whole kingdom lived happily ever after.  The End."

 

I wonder if my sweet niece had any idea the gift she gave our entire family when she wrote and shared this story with her cousins.  For me, personally, I have been given a way to articulate my experiences ever since Darin fell off that ladder:  Sometimes, the "very bad monster named Fear"  has trapped me in a dungeon. Things seem complicated in those moments.  But the solution for me, in Christ Jesus is simple:   Pray. Say "God is with me!" Remember who I am in Him, and take the first few steps in facing my fears.

Does this story touch you too? If you know of anyone, big or little, who could use some encouraging words about facing fear, I hope you will share it with them. I would love for Grace to know how much impact her story has on others, so if you or someone you know is ever touched by it, please let me know so I can pass it along to her.

By the way: please don't copy, or redistribute Grace's story, or present it as your own.  If you share with others, I ask that do so by simply sharing this blog post as is!

xoxo,

Darin

It's been fairly quiet over here for awhile. Despite my inactivity on this blog, 2015 is proving to be a big year for our family, and not in a way we would have ever imagined, expected or asked for.

On March 27th, we were enjoying a relaxed and laid back Friday afternoon.  Darin had taken the day off from work and we were enjoying a little "stay-cation".  We had stayed the night before at a local hotel that had an indoor water park.  We'd been back home for perhaps an hour and a half and it was a beautiful day.   Darin decided to go into the backyard to finish installing a zip line that he'd been working on for Lucy and Collin.  It was a part of the amazing play barn he'd been building for them:

Nora was napping, Lucy was working with one of her respite providers, Collin was engrossed in his own activities and I was tidying up in the "school room" when I heard a thud from outside and the sound of Darin groaning in pain.  I quickly ran to our backyard and found him on his back sprawled on the ground. His fifteen foot ladder, fully extended, was leaning against our maple tree. 

 "Honey, should I call an ambulance or do you think I can get you into the van and take you to the ER?" I asked him calmly.
"Call an ambulance," he responded with a calmness that matched mine. Thankfully, our next door neighbor was home, saw what was happening and was by Darin's side while I ran in to retrieve my phone.

I told Lucy and Collin that their daddy was hurt, I was calling an ambulance and that we were going to "trust God with their daddy". I dialed 911 and went back to Darin who at this point was completely unaware of what happened, what day it was or what he had been doing.

In a flash, a team of paramedics arrived, assessed his condition, cut his clothing off and put him on a stretcher. Lucy and Collin witnessed these moments and Lucy immediately began crying and expressed her fears that her daddy was too hurt to go back to work and that we would not "have any money to buy food".  Collin watched silently with his lip quivering. Our pastor's wife, Laura, arrived to stay with all the kids so that Ruth, Lucy's respite provider could be relieved and I could go to the ER with Darin.

We made it to the ER and I sat calmly in the waiting room, waiting to hear what the initial exam and x-ray revealed.  I was determined not to "jump to any conclusions" yet.  Our pastor, Scott showed up and was already giving support and praying with me when the trauma doctor approached me in the waiting room.

"He has a fractured vertebrae.  And a spinal cord injury.  He has sensation in his legs, but no movement," she explained.

"Sensation, but no movement," I repeated, "Ummm, what is the difference between sensation and movement?" I dumbly asked.

"He can tell if something is touching his legs, but he cannot move them. He will be transferred soon to the ICU where you will meet with a neurosurgeon to discuss the next steps."

The calm suddenly gave way to fear and Scott put his arm around my shoulders as the tears freely came.

 A LOT has happened since that afternoon.  Darin was hospitalized for a total of 40 days.  The hospital stay included a seven-hour surgery to stabilize the burst vertebrae, one week in the ICU, one week in acute care and four weeks of inpatient rehabilitation. He spends most of his time in a wheel chair now, but praise God, he has regained some mobility in his legs!  He can even do some walking with a leg brace and his walker! But things will never be the same.

He is now back home and has been here for three weeks. He is trying to get used to life with his new disability and we are all adjusting to big changes.  I am learning to be his caregiver, keeping up with parenting our children, and starting to pick up as many of his former household responsibilities as I can.  We have A LOT of help.  We have more support than we could have ever dreamed of.  We are NOT on this journey alone.  God is taking care of us through His people.

It is still hard.  There are a lot of unknowns about the future and we are facing a lot of fears. I don't have a lot of free time.  Right now I am staying up later than I should, typing this.  But, I feel like I need to start processing the past two months in writing and also document the journey going forward as best as I am able.  I want to use this blog as an outlet to do that.  I hope you will be blessed by the stories I have to share.  Stay tuned.

 

 

xoxo,