Confession...

Guilty Confession of the Day:

If Xander is crying while I'm in the shower at night, I take a much longer shower than when he is quiet.

(Because as long as I can hear him screaming... I know he is still breathing.)

Is that twisted?

Or just to be expected of a Mom who has been forced to do CPR on her other two children?

Xander Elias Moon is here!

Xander Elias
August 2, 2007
5 lbs. 8 oz.
18 inches long

Samantha meets her new baby brother.




Auron likes him too.

He gets to meet his Daddy at Fort Sill on Thursday the 9th. Everyone is doing well... I'm exhausted... but I guess that would be normal for someone with a new born and a two year old at home. Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers!

Update...

So, you thought I fell off the face of the planet again, didn't you?

Guess what? You can't get rid of me that easy!

I'm still baking the Xander bun in the oven. I hit my 35 week mark and he has been marinating in steroids for three weeks now so he should be healthy when he decides to come now. I am SO READY!! I want him to get here BEFORE August 8th so I can avoid making the 7 1/2 hour road trip to my husband's basic training graduation HUGE pregnant. Much more comfortable to travel with a newborn than a massive wiggling belly.

Overall I guess things are going OK right now. I miss my husband more than words can say and he misses all of us like crazy too. Sam's seizures are starting to kick up again because of the summer heat, but Mom and Dad seem to have a pretty decent grip on the situation. They leave on this Sunday to take her to Houston for a check up with her neurologist. It will be their first road trip for her doctor's appointments without me. I think it will be a good learning and bonding experience for them. I am doing my best to step back and let them make decisions and arrangements for her as they see fit. No one will ever do things exactly the same way I would but that doesn't mean that a different approach is wrong... its just different. It is a huge change to suddenly be responsible for someone who's health is as fragile as Sam's is and my parents have been doing a phenomenal job. There is a definite learning curve involved but I am confident that Sam is in the best place for her right now.

Well, I guess that's all for this update... I just wanted to let everyone know I'm still alive! I will post pictures of Xander as soon as I get some rest after his birth. As always your prayers are way appreciated!

Happy Father's Day...

When it comes to our children men and women are different creatures. A mother has months of bonding with the child growing in her womb and by the time that child is born she is already in love. Fathers, on the other hand, are presented with a small squalling goo covered alien that they have no idea what to do with. Some fathers bond in an instant, some take until the child is older and they are no longer afraid of squishing them, and some fathers never bond and have no idea what they are missing out on. Some fathers are made into Daddies when they fall in love with children whose fathers walked away or were lost for some reason. While that child might not be theirs biologically, their hearts hold them as their own. It has been said many times that anyone can be a father, but it takes someone special to be a Daddy. That has never held truer than it does for this generation. In a time when children are too often left without the strong guiding hand that a Daddy is supposed to provide, having an Earthly Daddy to show you the love of our Heavenly one is a rare and precious thing.

We all go through phases in our lives with those we love. The following have been mine with my Daddy.

As a child my Daddy was a “super hero”. In my eyes there was very little that my Daddy could do wrong. He was capable of fixing anything broken, scraped or bruised. He was the guy who would wipe away tears and snot with the tail of his shirt and not even wince as he tucked it back in. He carried me on his shoulders so I could see better and bounced me around in the back of his “baha” bug and didn’t even care that we all got covered in spilled soda in the process. He even (as I once bragged to my kindergarten class) killed a mean old grizzly bear with nothing but a PINECONE!

As a teenager my Daddy was pushy and nosey and interfering. The monsters he tried to chase away during those years were so much more real than the childhood ones under my bed. I did not appreciate the lengths he went to just trying to protect his little girl from the world. I saw him during those years as flawed and judgmental and untrusting. But behind the teenage attitude I was glad deep down that he did care enough to be so involved with what was going on in my life. I knew I could go to him with my problems and he would listen to me at a time in my life when I felt like no one really heard “MY” voice.

As an adult with children of my own my Daddy is once again a hero to me. But now he is real and flawed and not without his faults. I have seen him crumble (not often… but enough) and I have seen him trust God to pick him back up and straighten him out. My Daddy is so much more than Superman to me. He is a man who has taught me that I don’t have to be perfect to be loved. He has taught me that conflict and heartaches are a part of life… not the end of it. He made sure I knew how to change a tire and check my oil, but to this day will not let me mow my own lawn. He is stubborn, hardheaded and slightly anti-social. He is also one of the strongest, most loving, big-hearted teddy bears I know. He is a man of action and few words. If it needs to be fixed he will do it, often before you even think to ask. He has never been one for expressing verbal sentiment, but much like Jesus washing the feet of those he held dear, my Daddy’s small and consistent acts of kindness show his love more than words ever could.

Today is not a day to honor fathers. Today is a day to honor Daddies, no matter how they came to be. Everyone of us has a Daddy who wants to guide and direct us on the path that He can see is best for us… We simply have to learn to listen and trust in Him. To my Earthly Daddy and my wonderful Husband who have both shown me what true love of a Daddy for their children is supposed to look like… I am eternally grateful. It is in Daddies like them that I can see God’s love for all of us everyday.

Samantha's move...

Darrell has been gone for four weeks. So much has happened that I just couldn't stay focused long enough to compose a new post. This is just ONE of the MANY things going on here right now. I will try to update you all on everything else over the next few weeks...

Those of you who are close know what terrible condition my body is in and will understand the following... those not so close... please do not judge me based on your ignorance of the situation.

Darrell left for boot camp on May 15th. The first Saturday after he left Samantha had a "poop party". For those of you outside the Angelman Syndrome world that means she had the runs and played in it until she was covered from head to toe in her own poop and so was EVERYTHING she could reach in her bed. I hurt myself trying to get her and her bed cleaned up and had a HUGE emotional breakdown because I realized in a very abrupt way that I could no longer handle the PHYSICAL aspects of taking care of my daughter. She is seven and a half and four feet tall... she weighs a ton (and wiggles like crazy when you try to lift her).

After sobbing into my Mom's lap for a few hours because I felt like the worst parent on the planet (a Mom should be able to take care of her kid right?!) We came to the conclusion that the best thing for Samantha, my health, and by default the health of my unborn son, would be for Samantha to stay with my Mom and Dad for a bit.

It says something about how bad my body and overall health is when my Mom (just had BOTH knees replaced) and my Dad (going through chemo every other week) are in better physical condition to take care of Sam than I am. I am so thankful that I have such wonderful and loving parents who are willing to step up to the plate with no complaints or judgements. Samantha is doing quite well in their home and I still get to see her every day. I know she is happy and being well cared for (much more so than if I had been faced with the prospect of having to "place" her). She is still with her family and by all accounts... quite happy to be getting a vacation from her stressed out Mommy.

Pray for me... I hate that by baby girl is no longer under the same roof as me. I hate that my body is so crappy that I can not take care of her physical needs. I hate that I know I have made the best choice FOR HER, and knowing that it is to be someplace other than here with me makes me feel SO worthless as her Mom.

Pray for my WONDERFUL parents too. They are one of my biggest GOD sent blessings and they have taken on a serious full time job without blinking an eye.

And pray for my baby girl... it is getting hotter and her seizures have a history of becoming life threatening in the Summer heat.

The Proposal...

My husband proposed to me.

That sounds redundant I know, but there is a story here I promise. Three years ago in December my husband gave me a ring. I put it on my finger and we started making wedding plans. He never officially ASKED me to marry him. The conversation went something like this:

He gives me the ring (we were broke so it was tiny and well… budget appropriate) tied to a purple feather rose.

Me: “what is this?”
Him: “what do you THINK it is?”
Me: (tears) “NO… What IS this?”
Him: “what does it look like it is?”
Me: (more tears) “Are you SURE?”
Him: (goofy grin) “Of course I’m sure… I love you.”
Me: “I love you too, but are you sure your sure?”
Him: “yes.”
Me: (crying and holding out my hand for him to put the ring on me)
Him: “So… is that a yes?”

I admit that I was disappointed that it was not more romantic than that, but at that point I had waited three years for him to decide he wanted to marry me and was just thrilled he had finally decided that I was a keeper. I spent the better part of two years picking on him over the fact that he never ASKED me to marry him. He promised to upgrade my ring to something prettier as soon as we could afford it. I told him that when we could get the ring I wanted that he was GOING TO give me a “real” proposal to one day tell my children about. I picked on him and told him it had to be WAY romantic and sappy.

We really couldn’t afford the ring I wanted, but my husband (being the great guy he is) insisted we get it with our tax return this year anyway. I told him no… we had a new baby coming and couldn’t spend money on something that frivolous. He told me to order it anyway because “you deserve it honey.” I compromised and agreed to get the ring but NOT the diamond for the center. I told him I was perfectly content wearing a CZ for the next forty years or so. By the time the ring was delivered I was just so thrilled to have one that was beautiful and unique enough to symbolize those same things in our marriage that I told him the ring was enough by itself… he didn’t have to propose to me. I have been quite happily wearing my new ring since mid March.

Darrell left for boot camp at 4:30PM last Tuesday. We spent the majority of Monday and Tuesday before he left holding each other and the kids and crying. We HATE being apart. At about 2PM I was laying beside my husband on our living room floor while the kids played around us. I had my head on his shoulder and my left hand on his chest and we were both in tears. Suddenly he reached for my hand and pulled my ring off. He looked at it for a moment and then touched the bottom of my chin to make me look him in the eye.

“Melissa, will you marry me?”

I couldn’t do anything except bury my head in his shoulder and sob as he slipped my ring back onto my finger.

Just when I think it is impossible to love him anymore than I already do… he proves me wrong again. I love him more every day and could never ask for a better husband. He is so much more than I deserve and my heart aches for when we can be together again. I am not whole without him.

Nine days...

Once again I can not sleep.

I have nine days left with my husband.

For those of you in blogland who do not know the news yet... My husband joined the Army. He leaves for basic training on Tuesday May 15th. He will not be home for the birth of our son. I am not looking forward to this situation. I prayed far too long and hard about this to doubt that this was the decision God had made for us. I have no doubts about that.

I do have doubts about how I am going to deal with the reality of going without half of myself for months at a time. I am terrified at the thought that I could loose him in this never ending war. I am angry that so many doors were slammed in our life and this was the only one left open to us. I hate that deployments with the Army are anywhere from six to eighteen months at a time.

I wanted to knock the crap out of the guy in line in front of me at the grocery store today. He paid for sixty dollars worth of chips and dip with his food stamps card and THEN pulled out a wad of fifty dollar bills to pay for his almost TWO HUNDRED dollars worth of beer and wine coolers.

My family of four (going on five) can't afford to both pay bills AND buy groceries, but we were told we made too much money to qualify for any government assistance. After my husband got passed up for the promotion he needed at work we were left with very few options. The Army is where God lead us.

I don't want to be without my husband. I don't want him to miss the birth of this child. I know that things will be tremendously better for our family financially and our health care will be so much better in the military. I know that God has lead us here for a reason. I just hate that life always seems to be so difficult for us.

Please continue to pray for us.

We are SO going to need it!

Back on the Soapbox...

I have to take a moment to talk about something very near and dear to my heart. I want to talk about something that the doctors who practice it call

"intact dilation and evacuation".

I want to applaud the following people:

Justice Anthony Kennedy:

For having the balls to stand up for what he believes and calling it like he sees it.

and to:

Chief Justice John Roberts

Justice Antonin Scalia

Justice Clarence Thomas

and Justice Samuel Alito

for backing him up and voting for the only morally correct choice.

For those of you who are confused, let me explain in plain pull no punches words what the above mentioned procedure really is.

By the second trimester of pregnancy a baby's nervous system is already intact and working. That means they can feel pain. If a woman decides she doesn't want to have the baby once she is in her second or third trimester (and in some states it is legal right up to your due date) she could (until recently) go to a doctor who would deliver the baby feet first. Every part of this innocent little infant is delivered except for the baby's head.

Take a moment to feel the back of your neck where it hits your skull. You feel the soft spot there? That is the spot that a doctor stabs a suction device into to rip the baby's brain to shreds before he crushes the child's head. Yes, that is graphic. The truth generally is. Those of us who believe in the sanctity of an innocent unborn child's life call the above procedure like we see it.

PARTIAL BIRTH ABORTION IS HORRIBLE

It is not some clean sterile medical procedure. It is, plain and simple, someone stabbing a baby in the back of the head until that baby is dead. We have very specific laws about how to gently put criminals and rabid animals to death, but no protection or humanity is given to unborn children... even when they feel the pain as intensely as a newborn. How screwed up is that?

ABORTION IS WRONG

There are much more sensible solutions for women of all ages. Killing a baby is never the right answer. I know I will probably get flames for this post. I don't care. I may start a regular thing of giving details of how people choose to torture and murder their unborn. It outrages me. It should you too.

Praises to Sing!

In February my Dad got the results of his first MRI. It showed a dozen or more large cancerous spots throughout his liver. The doctor told him that he had 4 to 18 months to live... tops. They told us that he would not get better with chemo. The goal of chemo was simply to keep him alive as long as we could.

He had another MRI done this month to see how fast the cancer was progressing and spreading.

The doctor is still scratching his head.

PRAYER WORKS.

My Dad's most recent MRI shows only three or four spots on his liver... and those are SHRINKING.

The battle is far from over. My Dad still has quite a fight ahead of him. But, as of Monday, he is WINNING!

Thank you all for your continued prayers and support.

God Bless You All!!!

Box Boy!!!!