Well. First, I have PRAISE THE LORD the Elly seems to finally be on the mend. We had a good visit with her doctor on Wednesday, where she patiently entertained our questions and concerns but also gave us a good outlook and shared why she felt Elly’s situation was improving, which was very encouraging. She is eating a little more normally (not like she’s starving, like she was before) and she has been napping and sleeping SO much better which is also a sign she’s more comfortable. So…so far, so good. We still give her Zantac around the clock and are hoping it will fully heal her and we can be over this hurdle, but it’s still going to take some time, so patience is still of the essence. But we’re getting there it seems and that’s all we can ask for. I tried to return a little bit to some normal routine for her and we did some crafts on Thursday morning. She’s such a good helper.

Then? This.

Not Elly – that’s my temp yesterday.

AWESOME.

I started with an oh so familiar cough on Wednesday, but just attributed it to the crazy weather we’d been having. Thursday morning wasn’t too bad, but by Elly’s naptime, I was achy and started promptly praying that that too was weather related. By that night I was running a low grade temp and knew something wasn’t right. I did little more than toss and turn all night, and Michael woke up with me around 5 and we started talking about what I needed to do. Luckily, the urgent clinic opens at 6, so I dragged myself there and was able to walk right in. My flu test came back negative, but the doctor let me know that that could change – that she’d seen people on Friday who tested negative and then a few days later, when they weren’t better, tested positive.
Seriously? Don’t tell me that. Can’t we just let negative be negative and move on?
Essentially that’s what she did, by giving me a hefty antibiotic and reminding me to rest. Um, ok.

So I came home and Lysoled everything I could have touched or breathed on in the last 24 hours and then holed myself up in the bedroom.
By the afternoon, I was convinced I was going to be one of those people that doesn’t test positive for flu until it’s too late because my fever kept creeping up and I felt like death spread on a cracker. I may even have prayed for the rapture a time or two. It was bad.
But, thankfully around 2 am, my fever broke and I was able to shower and feel human for about 30 minutes, giving me hope that what I was dealing with was in fact getting better. I rested on and off for the rest of the night and today started markedly better than yesterday, to say the least.

I could cry a river of thanks to my mom and Michael who have taken over while I’m trying to get well. Mom has essentially dropped everything to take care of Elly while Michael works and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank her enough. The peace of mind to know your child is taken care of AND having a good time is priceless.

I’ve decided all of these unexpected “hurdles” must be God’s way of preparing me for the chaos that’s about to ensue in 5 weeks or so when baby boy makes his arrival. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to say that I’m prepared, but it’s more than apparent God’s determined for me to take one day at a time and lean into Him instead of trying to control everything. You know, just the single-most difficult thing for me to do.
But I’m learning. And hopefully God sees that too.

Warning – if you’re not in the mood for what serves as at least a partial pity-party, then stop reading now.
I’ve had enough. 

I tried the thankful route – knowing in my heart and trying to convince my mind that gratitude and a gracious attitude would keep me from falling into a pit; that keeping my mind Christ-centered and focused on his goodness would be in my best interest. And for all intents and purposes, I suppose it did – or at least delayed the pit because well, here we are.
I figure I am human, after all.

11 days. 11 days (and long nights) of wondering, pondering, trying not to worry have left me spent. Add on top of that some mystery illness that plagued Michael and I (in similar but different ways – I’ll spare you the details) over the last 3 days and I’m surprised I’m even upright at this point.
We’re STILL trying to figure out what’s wrong with our sweet Elly. After last week’s tests that virtually only ruled out common ailments, she experienced another setback Monday night when she got sick in the middle of the night, completely unexpectedly. We put her back on the anti nausea medicine so she could at least keep food down until we could talk with her doctor on Wednesday, when she ordered an abdominal xray that showed nothing. After another visit today, we’re doing another trial run with to see if she gets sick this time without the medicine or if we’re past whatever beast this is.

So more questions. More waiting. More fearing what’s next, whether it be tomorrow or next week, based on the unpredictable nature of this crap.

I don’t survive well in wait-and-seeville. In fact, it pushes my very core being into uproar because I live to know WHY. And the waiting?! Um, yeah. Forget it. And when it’s my baby we’re dealing with, well, a hormonal 8 month pregnant momma bear is not really an ideal suit for this scenario. And quite frankly I’m over it.
I’m over the zillions of questions that ruminate in my head of whether I did/have done/am doing this or that right; of whether what I had or he had or she had was a bug or this or that and who’s giving it to who, etc; of whether I can actually breathe a sigh of relief that maybe we’re past this bout of hell we’ve been dealt for the time being or whether we’re potentially facing something long-term for Elly that’s going to be a lot of trial and error with even MORE questions. All this with the constant reminder ringing in my mind that soon I’ll be dealing with all of this TIMES TWO.
There aren’t enough anxiety meds in the world.
Don’t get me wrong for even a SECOND – I KNOW things could be (or get) worse. I have cried and prayed for mommas of chronically ill children more this week than I ever have because even a mildly sick child is enough to humble any mother to her knees in thankfulness for health. I can’t imagine what they go thru only a daily basis – that all the questions and worry are commonplace and not something they’re waiting for to pass like I am lucky enough to be at this time.

But yes, I’m tired, I’m defeated, and I’m ready to find some answers – answers that seem so elusive for the moment. But mostly I’m frustrated because I don’t know what to do from minute to minute right now except wait. And again, that’s not in my repertoire of refined skills.
So please forgive me for needing to vent, for wanting to be over this and all the questions along with this. And please pray that some answers will come and this will all be in our past soon.
And that somehow, we’ll all be stronger for it.

Oh my my heavens, what a week.

This poor baby is what I’ve looked at most of the week.

It’s been rough. What started as what we thought was a bug on Monday has morphed into something that has lasted all week and honestly – even after a doctor visit – aren’t entirely convinced it’s “over.” After ruling out several causes for what could be making our baby very (albeit inconsistently) sick, the consensus at the moment is that she has a highly inflamed stomach lining and possibly the beginning of an ulcer. (Poor thing – she definitely takes afyer her momma.) But if this week has taught me anything, it’s that all of that can change, literally overnight.

Yet I’ve learned a lot more than just that this week. A lot about mothering; a lot about worry; and ultimately, a lot about myself. That sounds crazy, I guess, but for my heightened hormonal, anxiety-ridden self, even the smallest things can become BIG tests – tests that require a huge learning curve.

Watching my poor, petite little girl suffer is one of the most heartbreaking things I’ve endured as a mother. I know I’m not alone in this, but I guess it just becomes so real when your child lays in front of her toys unable to even play with them because she feels so bad. And no, this isn’t the first time Elly’s been sick – I feel this way every time. I just finally have the mental clarity to put it into words I suppose.
I also learned that I can endure much more than I imagined (even while 8 months pregnant.) Yes, I may have cried (a lot, maybe), I may have worried excessively, and I may have been hit with an inevitable migraine, but we’re all still here. Making it.
And while I don’t like to admit it, I guess we’ll continue to ‘make it’ should this episode continue.

But the most shocking thing I realized throughout this week is what I could still manage to be thankful for in spite of the not-so-great parts of having a sick child. My husband is a rock, but is also a caring daddy concerned about his baby girl. My mom is still the prayer warrior and faith monger that she’s always been. Regardless of how hard these days have been, it could be so much worse. We have a WARM comfy home where we can endure all of this together. We have fantastic cleaning products that make things fresh again – like this fabric softener (thanks, Dede!!) that makes everything smell so pretty I could literally make my own perfume out of the stuff.

We have good medicines and good doctors at our disposal that make the process of dealing with everything a little easier. We have friends and family that pray…I could go on and on, and for that simple fact as well, I’m thankful.

I’m hoping and praying for a peaceful weekend, but even if more surprises pop up, I hope I can still find something to be thankful for, regardless of how small.

This greeted us as we entered the Transplant wing at Jewish on Monday, January 6, 2014. Dad’s part of that growing statistic now.

This exact time last year, I was in a freezing cold hotel room across from Jewish Hospital where me, Sonny and his family, and my Aunt Lou were trying to get bedded down for a short sleep. After waiting a full day with no definitive answer, we had just gotten news about an hour prior that Dad’s liver transplant surgery would take place around 9am on Tuesday, January 7^th, 2014. We were all in a sort of semi-shock that this was all really happening and sleep proved quite elusive, both from the nerves/anticipation and from the fact that thanks to the first Polar Vortex of the year, our hotel room never got above 68 degrees with a wind chill of -34. Payne talked in his sleep the whole night. I had to pee at least 4 times in the 5 short hours we were there. Needless to say, when you’re waiting on a miracle that’s nearly in your grasp, restful sleep is not at the top of the list.

Graycen snuggling with Granddaddy as we waiting to find out if surgery was actually going to take place or not.

But the next day came, and we trudged across to the hospital in literal sub-zero temps to wait through a 10-hour surgery that would prove to save Dad’s life in more ways than one. We will all never forget that as they wheeled him away to the operating room, he waved to us and said, “I’ll be fine. See you later!”

This moment was surreal.

We all witnessed a miracle that day. We heard doctors say words that we never thought we would hear. We saw not only his life, but our lives changed forever as we now count this as Dad’s “second birthday.”

The day he arrived home after only 8 days in the hospital!

We could not be more thankful for the gifts we’ve been given – the gift of more life with Dad, the reward of seeing true belief and faith come to full fruition (even when the days of waiting were hard and the doubt so easily crept in.)

Christmas 2013

Christmas 2015 THE DIFFERENCE A YEAR (with a new liver) MAKES!!!

So, Happy Second Birthday, Dad. You’re more than a miracle!

We spent this weekend in Jackson and Germantown TN with mom’s side of the family and it was absolutely wonderful. We calculated how long it had been since we had been to visit there (Michael always has to work, weather and health are always major considerations) and it had been since Christmas of 2008 since I had been and Christmas of 2011 since the rest of the Flatts had been. So, basically far too long. Michael still had to work this year but Elly and I made the trek with everyone else. Everyone was an immense help to me considering Elly isn’t really the greatest traveler (she seriously will NOT sleep in the car), but Payne and Graycen were absolutely indispensable. They’re so good with her and she gets quite spoiled with them being pretty much at her beck and call. I should give her credit too though – she slept great in the hotel (after about 20 minutes of intermittent “mommy?” quizzes to make sure I was still in the room with her) she was out. She was great visiting people she hadn’t seen in a year or so or in some cases, ever, and did a pretty good job stealing hearts. Uncle Skip and Aunt Peggy were fabulous hosts as usual and made sure all the little ones were catered to. Elly had a blast playing with everyone and her face lit up when she saw her cousin Garner, who is just a month or so older than her, walked in. It was precious.

The best part was that all of “the cousins” and their offspring were there. That’s quite a feat considering there are 8 of us with 12 kids spread from IL to TN. It was such a blessing for everyone to be together. Times like this, especially with dad, are so treasured now. Hopefully we can look forward to many more trips like this!

The “original” Trevathan sons and daughters, plus spouses.

E’rebody, including “Uncle G,” my late grandmother Gallimore’s brother.

The cousins, oldest to youngest. I personally can’t remember the last time we were all together in our adulthood. So cool.

And the babies – the “cousins'” children. We’re well on our way to keeping the family name alive!