Dear Breastfeeding Gurus

THIS was a milestone week for us, one that has had ALL of you in my heart! This week we finished up the last of our formula and packed up the bottles that held the breastmilk and formula that grew our daughter over the last year. You were each such a huge part of the journey that led us to this week!

About four months ago I knew our breastfeeding journey was over and I found myself packing up my pump. It was such a unique experience, we had a love/hate relationship. On one hand it was INCREDIBLY freeing, this long and grueling part of my life was over! Amazing! On the other hand, I found myself grieving this part of my life ending. Breastfeeding was important to me. Before Mercy came, I set a goal... I wanted to make it to a year. At that time, I had no idea that the majority of Mercy's "breastfeeding" would come via electrical equipment that would cause bizarre and extraordinarily painful things like Raynaud's Phenomena and De Quervain's Tenosynovitis.

Despite our bizarre and awkward experience, however, I still had my heart set on making it to a year.

We made it EIGHT months, never exclusive, we supplemented with HMF or preemie formula from the very beginning and after eight months we were exclusive formula and baby food.

ALL of that was hard for this mama's heart.

You made it easier.

NICU breastfeeding gurus, you have a hard job.
Day one in my hospital bed, you showed up with this huge piece of equipment that I had no clue what to do with. You were there every day from the colostrum we swabbed in Mercy's cheeks to the first time we tried nursing during her regular tube feeding. You reminded me when I wept that it was not worth weeping over. When I cried over 10 cc's, you reminded me that 10 cc's was better than no cc's, and when there are no cc's that's ok too. You reminded me that Mercy was growing, and as far as feeding her went, that's what counted, not breast milk vs. formula.

Mama breastfeeding gurus, you have been there and back.
Your advice and the non judgmental viewpoints from mama's who struggled were immensely helpful to me when I wanted to quit. You shared your experiences, your successes, your hearts.

Breastfeeding gurus, you encouraged me not to give up, and when it was time to give up and I felt like I had failed, you encouraged me to look at my big eight month old girl growing like a weed. The evidence of incredible success stands in front of me each and every day!

Yesterday, as I packed up our Medela bottles that held so many triumphs and tears, I was reminded of the picture you painted for me...

...a picture of a King who didn't give up on a difficult mission, who, to the world, appeared to have failed His mission as He hung dying on a cross. But, oh, the success that was clearly before Him, clearly before us as we experience His saving graces each and every day!

THANK YOU for the example you set for me, the reminder that success may not look like what the world (or I!) thinks it should look like, the reminder of a King who wouldn't give up so that I could stand in His presence one day.

YOU made a difference, you had an impact on our lives!

Thank you!


**this post is part of a seven week series of 'letters' to people, events and things that were part of the life transforming work God did in our lives during Mercy's stay in the NICU - for more on our growth in the NICU, check out our CaringBridge page**

Dear Friend Who Knew Me

To many people I come off as a totally awkward, not sure what to say but super happy introvert with some ridiculous anxiety thrown in here and there.

You, friend, are one of a handful of friends who sees right through that awkward lady with issues.

I don't know how, I never see it coming, but every now and then somebody does it, somebody knows me totally and completely. You know me.

I'll never forget the moment I realized it.

Day two in the hospital, I returned a text from you asking if I needed anything.

"Something comfy, elastic-y, something to make me feel pretty." I was so over the hospital gown.

You work next door to a thrift shoppe, I didn't know what you would find, but surely they had something elastic-y in there!

You said you would see what you could do, and then I waited with my puffy knees expecting some type of old lady gown to drape over my swollen-ness.

You walked through the door with a box and a big smile, it was so good to see your face!

...and friend, the memory of opening that box you brought me has become for me such a physical representation of Psalm 139.

You have searched me, Lord,

and you know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise;

you perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down;

you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue

you, Lord, know it completely.

You hem me in behind and before,

and you lay your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,

too lofty for me to attain.

(vv. 1-6)

That day and over the course of the next seven weeks those verses would mean more to me than I ever realized they would.

I needed that reminder, I needed to remember that God knew me, He knew what I needed when I needed it, He knew each and every moment of those days, they were written in His book.

Even more so, I needed the reminder that He knew that tiny girl laying in an incubator down the hall raising her hand to the sky and praising Him with these words:

For you created my inmost being;

you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful,

I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you

when I was made in the secret place,

when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed body;

all the days ordained for me were written in your book

before one of them came to be.

How precious to me are your thoughts, God!

How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them,

they would outnumber the grains of sand—

when I awake, I am still with you.

(vv. 13-18)

Thank you friend, for reminding me how good it is to know Him and to be known by Him!

Oh, and when I opened the box you handed me, I pulled out the shiniest hot pink satin pajamas with a loose drawstring waistband... amazing!


**this post is part of a seven week series of 'letters' to people, events and things that were part of the life transforming work God did in our lives during Mercy's stay in the NICU - for more on our growth in the NICU, check out our CaringBridge page**

Dear Doctor Who Loved Me Well

You must have thought I was an emotional nutcase...

I can't even put a number on the amount of times you were doing your rounds and ended up by my baby girl's isolette comforting this weeping mama.

I remember one time very specifically...

Mercy was having a super day, cruising along, growing, eating, breathing, everything we could hope for.

...and you found me there weeping.

I'm not just talking about wispy eyed, two or three tears either... this was an all out crazy lady SOB FEST!

You put your hand on my back and asked me why I was crying.

"I don't know..." I could hardly even get those three simple words out through the sobbing craziness going on.

To be completely honest, I was an emotional mess for a couple of months after Mercy came, I believe I was dealing with some postpartum depression, and often when there was nothing to do other than celebrate huge victories, I would look at my child in that incubator and cry because I still had to go home to an empty nursery... and that made me so sad.

I was real good at celebrating and I was real good at crying. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how I could be so filled with joy and so so sad at the exact same time.

You got it and no matter how many babies you still needed to see you always took the time to put a compassionate hand on my back and talk me through it. I don't know if you are remotely aware of how much those talks meant to me or what they did for my confused heartache...

...but all those times you found me crying at my sweet girl's bedside, all those times you counseled me, not only on her health but on the importance of my role in her life in those moments, all the compassion you had for me... you painted a picture for me...

...a picture of Someone who met me in my weakest moment, who had compassion on this sinner, compassion that carried Him down a path that would enable me have the capacity to feel joy even in sadness and in fear.

You reminded me of the JOY Christ experienced during His horrendous death on the cross and what that means for me, for my daughter!

Those babies and mama's hearts that you touch are so blessed, and we are so blessed to have been two of them!

Thank you!
  Mercy's Mama


**this post is part of a seven week series of 'letters' to people, events and things that were part of the life transforming work God did in our lives during Mercy's stay in the NICU - for more on our growth in the NICU, check out our CaringBridge page**

Dear Mama Who Acknowledged My Pain

You lost your eyesight.

You almost lost your life.

You didn't meet your baby girl for six days and when you did, you couldn't see her beautiful face.

You laid in your bed in the ICU and felt her preciousness rest against your body.

But you could not see her.

I never understood how you could sit with me and acknowledge my very minimal pain.

You know, Mercy's birth story was significant and completely ordained, beautiful and something I look at with love and amazement, but...

Those weeks and months after she came were painful and emotional.

Sitting with you and seeing your eyes SEEING me and telling me that my pain mattered and my journey was significant was life changing for me.

How could what I went through even begin to compare to what you went through?

You're STILL going through treatment, and yet you looked at me and comforted me. You reminded me that, yes, our stories are different, but each is significant, each will be used, and God cares deeply about each and every detail, each and every difference. Pain is pain and we can't compare our experiences, we can only thank Him for the grace He offers us to heal and grow through them.

I hope you know that you showed me how to see Christ as my Healer.

I know that when you held your sweet girl that first time, your eyes couldn't see her. I know they saw Jesus. I know that your focus on HIS face got you through the ICU, months of dialysis and the NICU.

You never turned your gaze from Him, even when your eyesight returned.

You showed me how to heal.

You showed me that my pain mattered and was healable.

Friend, your friendship is a reminder of Christ's healing sacrifice in my life and I want you to know that I'm so so grateful for you.

Love you friend,
  Your NICU Neighbor


**this post is part of a seven week series of 'letters' to people, events and things that were part of the life transforming work God did in our lives during Mercy's stay in the NICU - for more on our growth in the NICU, check out our CaringBridge page**

Dear Daddies Who Were There Before Us

There were two of you. One nearing the end of your NICU journey and the other just beginning several weeks before us.

You introduced yourselves to us.

You shared your baby girls with us.

You shared your experiences with us.

You two men gave us hope for our own baby girl.

When you talked to us about your NICU experiences, you brought us peace about ours.

We knew our girl's journey would look differently than your two girl's journeys looked. We knew we would have different experiences and different obstacles to cross.

But walking out of the hospital a year ago yesterday felt a whole lot easier having heard your stories.

...and I know I could never thank you enough for that.

Reading back through the CaringBridge post I wrote last January 22 was extremely hard. Remembering the moment of leaving the hospital empty-handed brought back painful emotions that I haven't thought about or felt in many months.

However, I vividly remember recalling four simple words you spoke to us just three days earlier, "She's in good hands."

...and she was.

In those first days, y'all painted a picture of FAITH for me.

It would be necessary to have faith in the doctors and nurses who took care of Mercy, to believe in their hearts that cared deeply for her the moment she took up residence in one of their incubators, to know fully that they had her very best interests at heart and to trust their knowledge in the medicine they practice.

Over the next seven weeks our faith in her medical staff would deepen alongside our faith in her Heavenly Father.

Not only would it be necessary to have faith in her doctors and nurses, it would be infinitely more necessary to have faith in the God to whom she belongs, to believe in His heart that loves her so much more deeply than we even know how to love, to know without question that He always would have her very best interests at His heart and to have unwavering trust in His sovereign knowledge of every day He would give us to spend with her on this earth.

So... thank you, daddies, for reminding me of the Hands she was in then, is in now, and just how good they are.

**this post is part of a seven week series of 'letters' to people, events and things that were part of the life transforming work God did in our lives during Mercy's stay in the NICU - for more on our growth in the NICU, check out our CaringBridge page**