The BIG 2!

Remember this?

Or this?

How 'bout this?

Oh my gracious, me either. Only if I stand on my head, squint my eyes, and wiggle my toes. Then, just then, it comes right back to me.

We are just crazy about this little man. Love, love, love him to pieces!

Happy Birthday Super Coop! Xoxo

Alligator

Coop and I did our thing today. You know, our Wednesday thing. The one where we go to ride the horsies at the mall and eat Chick-fil-a and sprinkle cookies from the Cookie Company. Only today Coop begged and begged to ride the "alligator" (elevator) in Macy's. So we did. Up and down and up and down. "Alligator mommy! Alligator!" Bless his bones. Then we drove through the JC Penny "tunnel" (parking deck) tooting the horn like we were riding through tunnels in the mountains. It was glorious. Sweet food for my soul. 

What with our expired tag on my mommy mobile that WILL NOT pass an emissions test to save it's life, I'm surprised the mall cop on his Segway didn't pull us right over. Wild things, we are.

Coop's birthday party is 10 days away. Somehow in the shuffle of the last two weeks I completely dropped the ball on getting his invites out in a timely manner. Ridiculous. I'm always on top of that stuff. Hmph.

I've just about recovered from the seatbelt episode. Just about. For sure not one of my finer moments. Sigh. I even made it through two long days at work. God's reminding me of the power of His grace every single day. He tells me that every little thing is gonna be alright. He sings over me when I am grumpy and tells me "chin up buttercup" when I am feeling blue. He's a mighty fine rock, don't you agree?

Emissions Test

I went back to work. It was probably too soon. I was a nut job and all I could think about was missing Cooper grow up. Ridiculous, I know.

I thought I was doing better today, then I took the car to get an emissions test this morning because somehow in the craziness of this last week, we completely forgot to get our tag renewed. The car failed and I burst into tears at the little emissions test tent. The poor emissions man. He just looked at me. I mumbled something about being the lady driving around with an expired tag and empty belly and he just stared at me. He took my money and told me to be careful, that the city of Suwanee has a camera right at his tent and they probably already red flagged my tag. I put on my rhinestone sparkle sunglasses (in the rain) and sped off doing the ugly cry. Stupid tag. Stupid emissions test.

We went to Ludi Mae's birthday party tonight. It was just precious. She was a doll and I can hardly believe she is two years old already. On the way home my seatbelt attacked me. You know, when it locks into place on your shoulder and no matter what you do, it won't let you go? I started flailing around and yanking the seatbelt and burst into tears and cried for two hours. Once the unlovelyness subsided, Chris told me he thought I was seizing in the car. He was scared stiffless. Just drove and drove with me convulsing and cursing. Amazing that he can love me when I'm darn near unlovable.

What was I to do? I got attacked by a seatbelt.

Our kitchen island is full of sweet notes, cards, and flowers from sweet sweet friends. Our fridge is full of yummy meals and baked goodies. We cannot thank you all enough. Remember when I said something about "joy shared is double joy and sorrow shared is half the sorrow"? So true. Sharing our joy brought us so much happiness. Sharing our sorrow is one of the toughest things we've had to do, but we sure do appreciate you all helping to carry the load. We surely do.

Upside Down and Inside Out

I went to return a RedBox last night and somehow lost an hour in the parking lot staring at people move around like little robots. I'm not myself. I'm just not. I've got the peace of God that transcends all on my side, I really do, but I'm still just all out of whack. 

Chris took me to IKEA today and the buggy drove me crazy. It wouldn't even drive straight. Just kept sliding all over the place.

I'm mad because sweet tea tastes good again. I should be happy about that but I'd rather it taste horrible and still have our little baby. 

I typically slip into stealth mode when we are hit with any kind of crisis. We've had plenty of practice in this. These shouldn't be uncharted waters.  I rolled with the punches like a champ through the gun case, through the days and months of unemployment after Chris' company shut their doors, through the Kudzu diagnosis and Juice treatment. Just put on the armor of God and my big girl panties and dealt with it.

This is different. This was our tiny promise of good things to come and to be honest, I am just devastated. I don't know which way is up and which way is down. Am I coming or going? I tried to brush my teeth with diaper ointment. I keep looking at our precious little baby on the ultrasound picture from just a few short days ago and wonder what on earth went wrong. We should get the autopsy and chromosomal testing back soon but part of me doesn't even want to know. 

It's absolutely insane to me that is so common. It actually makes me feel a million times worse hearing about so many precious friends who have gone through this very thing. My heart just breaks for each and every one of you. 

Anyway, this is foreign territory to me. I feel like I typically don't know how to be anything but strong and stubborn and I'm pretty much anything but that right now. 

I listened to Cooper sing "Jesus loves me" over the monitor last night as he fell asleep. He sounded like a choir of angels. I can hear him in the shower quacking like a duck right now and can't stop thanking God for blessing us with him. He'll get out of the shower, put on his "rhiroserous" rhinoceros) pajamas, cuddle in my lap while he watches Fireman Sam, and fall fast asleep in his new big boy room. He will remind us of God's promise of his perfect timing in our lives. He will teach us how to be strong and help us remember to praise our great God above. We sure couldn't be any more blessed. 

Rise

I wanted to take a minute to thank you all for the words of encouragement and for the unending prayers you have poured out for us. We sure need 'em and we sure feel 'em. Through everything we've been through over the past few years, our one prayer has been that no matter what happens, that God will be glorified.

In the midst of our devastation and sadness, He is being glorified. I can see it.

I got in trouble the day of my surgery. I was supposed to start meds Thursday night to start contractions and make things easier for Friday morning. I just couldn't take them. Couldn't. Could not.

I should have though. It would have made surgery easier for Big Al. The nurses got on to me and Dr. Sermons just shook his head and shuffled around in his black church shoes. Mostly I was just happy to feel guilty about something other than eating feta cheese and drinking Coca-Cola.

Anesthesia came in to talk to us before I went into the OR. I was a hot mess, squaling and carrying on, detailing our issues with what happened the last time I was at Northside delivering a baby. By the time the OR opened up for me, a different anesthesiologist came in.

He looked at Chris, looked at me and his eyes got big as saucers. He was THE ONE who was there when I seized and talked about seeing Jesus and Mama Potts when Cooper was born. He was the one who bolused me twice and sent the meds straight into my bloodstream rather in my spinal column. He was the one who assured me that I was not dying as I screamed obscenities during my seizures that day. I screamed about a million and one horrific and embarrassing things and two years later, he remembered EVERY single comment. Even the one where I told him I liked his hair and asked him to buy me an Infinity. Sheesh. Anyway, it sort of made me giggle that of the 90 anesthesiologists at Northside, I got him again. Bless him. He probably didn't like the liability that came with knocking me out, but this time it was smooth sailing.

We are heartbroken. Between the kudzu and the chemo and the long long road to getting pregnant, we are having to dig deep to find peace. The joy we've experienced over the past three months will always stay with us. Every single day, we praised him for this tiny miracle. Never once did we take it for granted or forget WHO blessed us with this gift.

But as the Bible and Michelle Duggar say, "The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. BLESSED BE THE NAME OF THE LORD".

Shawn McDonald reminds me: "Because He who is in me is greater than I will ever be, I will rise". So there ya go. I will rise. I will take my sassy butt to church and continue to praise Him.

Love y'all.

Feta Cheese and God's Grace

Remember yesterday when I talked about serving a mighty God? He reminded me of that today at 10:47am. Our sweet baby went to be with Jesus. Somewhere between the snot rockets, ugly cry, and ramblings of eating feta cheese and drinking Coca-Cola, God's grace swept right over that tiny exam room and covered me. In the midst of the chaos, there He was.

Chris was miles and miles away the day he got the news about Invasion Kudzu. He's in St. Louis this week; St. Lucas, as Coopie says. He's trying with all his might to fly standby home before they take the baby Friday morning. Please pray for him and the Delta pilot who I just know will get him home in time.

I wouldn't trade the joy we've experienced over the past 3 months for anything in the world.

I'm trying to be graceful, I really am. But I can't seem to find my big girl panties. I looked all over Target tonight for a new pair, even skipped the Target nachos and wandered aimlessly in circles pushing my red buggy full of paper towels and diapers. They were nowhere to be found. Instead I will cling to God's promise that He carries us in times like these.

Thank you all for covering us in prayer. We are humbled and love you all so much.

Easter, Wrinkle Cream, and Target Nachos

I am hooked on a show worse than Toddlers and Tiaras. It's called Long Island Medium. It's on TLC. She's a Jersey mom who connects with spirits. She's kookoo and I don't necessarily even believe in mediums, but I adore her.

Today was the first day I didn't come home from work and lay in the floor while Coop drives his choo choos on my legs and over my face. It was glorious. We went to Target and, um, ate dinner there in the food court. Yes. In the Target food court. Can you even technically call it a "food court"? I was just sure someone was going to see us and I was going to be chawed. Nope, 8pm on a Monday night is apparently not so much a popular time for food court Pizza Hut and Target Nachos. Coop thought it was grand. He was shrieking and squealing something about how "Mama, we eat supper at Target! We eat supper at Target!".

We're 11 weeks and I decided this week was going to be the week. Zofran or no Zofran, back to the land of the living. Mind over matter.

I saw a picture of myself on Easter and cried. I look like I feel. Who knew? To make matters worse, I got a comment about how I have "quite the belly already" and when I told sweet hubs about it, he innocently responded "Maybe it's just your dress or that giant flower belt?". Tears. Anyway, nothing a new pair of walking shorts and some wrinkle cream can't fix.

Coop told us on Saturday night that he wanted to sleep in his big boy bed.

He waddled his little diaper booty in there, laid his head on the pillow, and went right to sleep. We were stunned. Thus the Target trip to convert the old guest room into his new big boy room. He is just beside himself. He asks me every morning if I am proud of him. Melts my heart. I secretly tell him it's ok if he wants to slow down a little bit. HE'S ALMOST TWO. Shesh.

With all the big boy room success, we aborted operation byebye binky. Soon enough, soon enough.

Skinned knees, golfer hat, and lollipops. The sweetest things in life.

Only thing sweeter is TWO lollipops.

I sure do love Easter. More than Christmas. What an awesome, awesome day to celebrate the RISEN King! His mercies are made new every single day. His sacrifice reaches beyond anything we can even comprehend. His grace covers every single inch of our humble selves and then some. His sovereignty reins through highs and lows.

As I watched people humbly give their lives to Christ at our (amazing) Easter service, I cried and cried for my brother, Christopher. I have prayed and prayed and prayed for him. For YEARS. My sweet Mama Potts went straight up to heaven praying her little heart out for him. My Mom doesn't go a day without thinking about him and covering him with prayer. Oh what I would give to see him walk back into our lives. Even more so, I would give anything to see him come back to Jesus. Anything. The sweetest thing is that we worship a God who is bigger than us and who has a sacred plan for us all. His plan for Christopher far exceeds the circumstances of his life right now and that is a mighty beautiful thing.

Happy Easter sweet friends! Hope you had all the lollipops, seersucker plaid, and giant flower belts your heart desired.

April Fools Day

I haven't been blogging much these days but I just needed to rant and rave about how much I hate April Fool's Day. Hate it. Once, eons ago, when Chris and I first met and fell in love, I tricked him by showing up at his place in a knee brace saying I tore my ACL.

RIDICULOUS. I don't even know what possessed me to do such a thing. It wasn't even the least bit funny. It's like we were Spring cleaning one day and I came across the brace, tried it on, laughed out loud, and hobbled next door to Chris' to see the look on his face.

It was TERRIBLE.

That blasted knee brace still comes up in conversation to this day. Like later that year when I spilled toxic ink on my legs and got second degree burns and puked in the bushes outside our apartments. Like when I told him that the limo driver went to the wrong venue the night of our wedding. Like when I called him to tell him Coop fell off the kitchen island and his ear was the size of a potato. Or the times we found out we were pregnant.

He always cocks that one eyebrow and asks me "Is this like that time you tore your ACL"?

For the love of Pete.

So anyway, Chickfila played an April Fool's joke yesterday. Announced they were introducing a Steak Fillet Biscuit. Come on. Does Truett know about this? Saying they were open on Sundays would have been waaaay cooler.

April Fool's Day jokes are risky, y'all. More times than not, they open the person playing the prank up to being the Fool and I just don't like 'em. I walk around on April 1st all skeptical and cynical with a scowl on my face disbelieving everything I hear. Then I second guess everything and worry about being the ONE person who doesn't comment or play along and end up making a fool of myself. This April Fool's Day came and went and there I was, a Fool. Again. Ridiculous. Whatev.

Now back to blogcomaland where I eat Captain Crunch and play with Coopie and celebrate all things non-April Fools Day related.