Remember that time when I was so embarrassed that Ella was ten months old and still hadn't been dedicated? WELP, Adam is fifteen months old, and a few days ago, he was dedicated. Life has been such a whirlwind, especially so since November. Somewhere in the the last six months, a sweet little baby has morphed into a little boy, and as cliche as it sounds, I just keep falling deeper in love with him.
As I'm sure you'll recall, we had some drama with Adam when he was about 5 days old. A phone call from a nurse that should NOT be allowed to deliver results called us and said "Adam's PKU test was abnormal." My hormones surged as I said "which one?" "His PKU test. Anyway, you need to come in immediately so we can redo the test." I looked outside... it was sleeting. It was only supposed to get wetter and colder. Ella cried in the floor as she gazed at Cody holding Adam, both of us fighting back tears at the blunt, harsh news. The car never moved slower as we made the fifteen mile trek to the doctor, and I hated myself the entire drive. Not even five minutes before the nurse called, I had text a picture of Adam's ears to my Mom and said "His ears are not cute." And in my defense, they weren't. He had pointy little elf ears... I mean, POINTY little elf ears. But what did his ears matter when his body wasn't doing what it was supposed to? The body I grew, the body I carried, the body I delivered. I googled "abnormal PKU" and found a terrifying condition that meant no meat, no dairy, no carbs. No nuts. No beans. Just Vegetables. ONLY VEGETABLES. It meant learning disabilities and skin problems. It meant specialists and routine bloodwork. I cried and cried. I called Jay and Sheri and told them between sobs what we had heard. And cool, level-headed Sheri said "This is all super unlikely. Get off the internet. K love ya bye." We were ushered into the doctor's office, and I happen to have a fantastic relationship with my Pedi. She took us straight back and said "Hey, I've seen this before, and I've seen false positives. Take a breath." "TAMMY, I CAN NOT GIVE THIS BABY VEGETABLES AND ONLY VEGETABLES!" Confusion covered her face and said "I didn't ask you to?" Immediately embarrassed, I mentioned what I had learned on google. Still confused, she said "His PKU was okay. This is an enzyme issue." Annoyed relief washed all over me for a brief second before the panic returned. She explained that the biggest things I needed to watch for were weight loss and lethargy. Uh, have you ever met a newborn? They're pretty much the definition of lethargy. Weight loss, however, cracked me up. This fat little snowman baby peeked up at me through the hoodie of a jacket that wouldn't zip. "Well, at least there's weight to lose," I thought to myself as I watched my baby get his heel poked again, then we were sent in the sleet for more blood work and a urine test. Eventually the tears stopped, but the joy of bringing home this sweet little life stopped. In a way, I guess, I was afraid to love him. I was afraid to get too attached, because I ignored everybody I knew and googled anyway. Cody was cautiously optimistic, and even took the baby away from me and held me as I allowed myself to get mad for the first time. We were under strict orders to wake the baby every two hours to feed him. Have you ever tried waking a newborn? It doesn't happen. I was so tired. My daughter was being a terror. My husband didn't know how to help, as he didn't lactate, but wanted me to feel anything but alone. After a week of that malarkey, and a baby that just keep getting fatter, I stopped. I felt very sincerely and very whole heartedly that Adam was okay... and so I let the baby sleep. And he slept all night, every night for the next four months. In the weeks that followed that initial appointment, there were ups and downs as results started coming in. The second test was normal (yay!), but it could be a false positive (murp.) We need you to come to Fort Worth to let us look at him (Road trip!!!) and do more bloodwork (murp.) In Fort Worth, we heard "He was only .4 above the test line. I'm confident he's fine." (whoo!) But we need to do two blood tests that will be out of pocket and about two thousand dollars (murp.) A few weeks later, we learned that he is a carrier, but not an active case. Well... thanks?
In all of the weeks that followed the initial phone call, as I rocked my baby in the pitch black of the night, I prayed fiercely and fervently. I prayed with such intensity, I would often look up and realize that thirty minutes had passed. "Where are You in this? What are you trying to teach me? Is this whole thing some fluke that I'm over spiritualizing?" I was honest, open, and blunt in my prayers. And still, even when the issue was resolved, I sat back and said "I still don't see the lesson here." And I didn't until a few months later, when I went back and read Ella's dedication blog. And in said blog, I said over and over that regardless of what happened to Ella in her life, she belonged to the Lord, and no matter what, we were okay with what He had planned for her life. What easy words to say when your baby is healthy and thriving. Adam, in all technicalities, was healthy and thriving, even though doctor's were telling me that he shouldn't be. In those weeks, I didn't trust the Lord to do what He wanted with Adam. I don't believe that an astronomically expensive diagnostic test was the Lord's way of "testing" us, but I do believe that the experience showed me that I needed a little less bark and a little more bite. I was all about trusting the Lord until something threatened my baby... MY baby... and then the claws came out and I felt like the battle was mine. It was not. Since then, "Thus says the LORD to you, ‘Do not be afraid and do not be dismayed at this great horde, for the battle is not yours, but God’s." has been plastered all over his baby books, "love letters" I write on his birthdays... pretty much anything that I feel he'll read over and over in his lifetime. The battle is the Lord's. And it's so easy to say, but so hard to trust. Everyday is a struggle to surrender, because every day, I find new details to love about Adam. I know him like the back of my hand, and to be okay with ANYTHING that could potentially harm or hurt him... well... it raises the hair on the back of my neck. This boy is just everything I could have ever possibly hoped for in a baby. He's my redemption. On the days that I feel like I can't get this whole thing right, he shows me that I'm going to survive. He's such a tender hearted, sweet baby at one year old... Which is probably something that most Moms say about their kid, but there's something different about him. He's going to change somebody's life... he might even change the world. All I know is that there's something to his kindness that's different than the other babies. Well, okay I want to pause there for a second and say that he has one of the worst tempers I've ever seen. I know where he gets it. I don't know where the fits come from, but I know where the short fuse derived. And it rhymes with Baylea Faines. Most of the time, though, he's my little sugar. He shows me love. I know what it means to be wanted and accepted without stipulations. He takes me as I am, each and every day. If he had any idea how much that has taught me about Jesus, he would probably have a God Complex. He is so funny. Ella is funny on accident most of the time, but he is really, actually, completely hysterical. Every day, I'm so amazed that he looks at me and just grins, almost like he's saying "I've just never loved anything the way that I love you." I honestly cry sometimes while I rock him, because I'm so overwhelmed with how deeply I love him, and I know that it won't always be this easy to love him. It's the same situation that I was in with his sister, except with Ella, sometimes I had to work really hard to love her... but when her head wasn't spinning... I couldn't handle how intense those feelings of adoration were for her. And just as I struggle to convey that even when they're driving me completely ape sh...oes... I cannot express how deeply I love them. And in feeling these things, I see glimpses of how deeply Jesus loves me. When I don't trust him to take care of my babies... still He loves. When I stubbornly butt heads with Him over who knows what's best for these kids... still He loves. Whenever I collapse into bed and yawn as I pray and thank him for another day with these turds... still He loves. Still He loves. When I deserve it, when I don't, when I need it, and when I'm unaware. Still He loves. And because of this love that I've come to know, I believe that whatever may pass and whatever lies before in Adam's life, the Lord knows. And the Lord sees. And the Lord is sovereign. He's the God who goes before. We trust Him and we love Him. We love Adam, but our love doesn't compare to the love of Jesus. So a few short days ago, we stood before our family and friends and gave Adam back to the Lord, whole-heartedly this time. We promised to raise him to know the Lord, and to be okay with whatever that means for Adam's life. It seems to simple to talk about now, but just as I did with Ella, the heaviness that accompanies really letting these babies go weighed heavily on me in the days preceding. I'm so blessed by their lives, and so thankful that the Lord trusted me enough to raise them... but that's a whole different blog. I'm getting super emotional, so it's time to wrap it up. But I'll end with a line from my very favorite hymn, which has rested on my heart in preparation for this sweet little dedication. I'm so thankful to know and love Jesus. How troublesome and exhausting parenthood would be without this Rock on which we stand... well... how much MORE exhausting, anyway.
"How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That he would send His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure."
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