Friday, December 7, 2012

family fridays

Well it's been a while since I've posted a family update, so here's what we've been up to recently.

Josh has been doing evening clinicals this week which means he goes in around 2:30 pm and stays until about 11:00 pm.  It really fits his "night owl" personality.  He administered his first epidural last week for a c-section and two nights ago did anesthesia for a kidney transplant.  Pretty exciting things for him.  His clinicals the first of the year will send him away from home so please say an extra prayer for us!

Micah has been into everything lately and really keeping me on my toes!  The other morning I woke up to a dirtied crib (read: poop!) because Micah had taken his diaper off.  First thing in the morning.  It was ... not my favorite thing.  A little bit later I took a really quick shower and in that five minutes he managed to get into the DVDs and slide a couple of them underneath our tv stand, including Daddy's new favorite game.  And the icing on the cake was that he locked himself in his room.  Luckily it was a pretty quick fix and he was rescued without the need for door removals or 911 calls.  It was a crazy morning.  But I do love that little guy and he can make me smile and laugh like no one can.  

He greets me every morning jumping in his bed and smiles and says, "Sept (slept) good, Mommy!" or "Hi, Mommy!"  And if I've already showered and my hair is wet he says, "Oooo, Mommy sowerd" and sniffs my hair.  I just love him.  

And this past weekend his loving and hardworking grandparents installed a swingset as Micah's birthday present.  Needless to say, he loves it.

Evie would have been one month old tomorrow.  And Sunday is her one month in Heaven.  I still feel like she was born yesterday.  The memories are still so fresh in my mind and I pray they never fade.  It's all I have.  

I am doing alright.  I'm still trying to figure out how to grive appropriately.  I have so much hope and thanks to the Lord that Evie is in Heaven but I just miss her so terribly.  What is the appropriate balance in between the two?  I'm not sure.  But I am able to do normal life and enjoy it so I imagine that's not a bad thing, it just seems to take more effort.  

I have a really difficult time concentrating these days.  It's hard for me to focus and figure out what tasks I need to accomplish.  Life just feels a little complicated.  Continued prayers are much appreciated!  

Well that's it for us this week.  Thanks for checking in on us.  Have a great weekend!   


  1. Oh my goodness.. He says that he "slept good"? How precious!?!
    Have a great weekend. Continuing to pray for your family, and thank you so much for sharing. It's a blessing to read your journey!

  2. praying for you, for you to find balance amidst your grief. don't know if there is an appropriate way, it is your heart & you honor Evie's life by grieving for her the only way her mommy could. many thanks to sweet Micah for filling your days with fun, though I bet you could do without the poopy wake up call again, right? :) lots of love to you at all times. xoxo

  3. I have always found it rather fascinating that so many emotions can mingle at the same time in one somebody! Created in God's image, so much more to Him than us, pretty mind boggling!

  4. I've always thought that the conclusion to the story of Oliver Twist approaches how we feel about the Christian life now and heaven soon. Some of this reminds me of you, Sarah. And some of it makes me think of Evie in her wonderful heavenly way of life.

    "I would desire to linger yet with a few of those among whom I have so long moved, and share their happiness by endeavouring to depict it. I would show Rose Maylie in all the bloom and grace of early womanhood, shedding on her secluded path in life soft and gentle light, that fell on all who trod it with her, and shone into their hearts. I would paint her the life and joy of the fire-side family circle and the lively summer group; I would follow her through the sultry fields at noon, and hear the low tones of her sweet voice in the moonlit evening walk; I would watch her in all her goodness and charity abroad, and the smiling untiring discharge of domestic duties at home; I would paint her and her deceased sister’s child, Oliver, happy in their love for one another, and passing whole hours together in picturing the friends whom they had so sadly lost; I would summon before me, once again, those joyous little faces that clustered round her knee, and listen to their merry prattle; I would recall the tones of that clear laugh, and conjure up the sympathising tear that glistened in the soft blue eye. These, and a thousand looks and smiles, and turns of thought and speech—I would desire to recall them every one.

    How Mr. Brownlow went on, from day to day, filling the mind of his adopted child, Oliver, with stores of knowledge, and becoming attached to him, more and more, as his nature developed itself, and showed the thriving seeds of all he wished him to become—how he traced in him new traits of his early friend, that awakened in his own bosom old remembrances, melancholy and yet sweet and soothing—how the two orphans, tried by adversity, remembered its lessons in mercy to others, and mutual love, and fervent thanks to Him who had protected and preserved them—these are all matters which need not to be told. I have said that they were truly happy; and without strong affection and humanity of heart, and gratitude to that Being whose code is Mercy, and whose great attribute is Benevolence to all things that breathe, happiness can never be attained."