Praising God for my Trials Isn't Easy Until its Just About Bubbas....

Have you read about Little April Rose? I have been following this blog for about 4 weeks now. This single mother is carrying a baby that doctor's have said will not survive. Simultaneously, she is preparing for life AND death. For a while, her baby stopped growing. But in the last two weeks, she has gotten bigger. Doctors are not sure of what to expect. Anyway, my heart goes out to this girl and the father of April Rose.

I was having a little bit of a pity party for myself this week, but how can I when I stop and try to put myself in April's mother's shoes?

Caleb gave these up this week:

No more bubbas. It was time. He's 16 months old, but his "real" age is 14 months. His bubbas have been his best friends! When its time for one, he gets all wiggly, giggly and smiles so big! But he really did look a little funny walking around, playing with matchbox cars, carrying a bubba in the other hand! It's just been hard, because for me, bubbas were such a triumph just one short year ago. Being born almost 8 weeks early meant a feeding tube (gavage) through his nose for nourishment.

I remember watching them insert that tube a few times, watched him straighten himself a little at the discomfort of it going down his throat. We were always wanting to know how many CC's he had taken in a feeding. When you are happy over 30 CC's, and then realize that's not a lot over (if at all!) one ounce, drinking a full bottle seems like forever away! It broke my heart when after nursing, the only way to see how much he took was to extract it through the gavage, measure it, and then push it back through to his stomach. He worked so hard for that, leave it alone!
Little Man and I struggled daily when he finally came home. In the hospital he had nursed some, but had also "passed" the "can drink from a bottle" test that they wanted him to pass in order to come home. I wanted to throw those bottles away, desiring to nurse exclusively. After 2 months of 12+ feedings a day, with LOTS of reflux to boot and a few apnea spells as well, I decided that in order to stay sane, that I would use a bottle. My freezer was overloaded with frozen breast milk, so I figured he would have at least 2 more months of my milk, plus, I would keep pumping! The day I made that decision, LM and I had THE best, last, nursing session we had had. I cried the whole time he ate. I thought, God doesn't want me to give up! But it wasn't to be. After about a week of lots of crying, missing my baby held so intimately to my breast, I gained some peace. With more sleep now that daddy could do some of the feedings as well, I was able to get a grip a little easier! I loved watching the DiSH hold his little baby boy, feeding him his bubba, feeling finally like he could do something to help! And the rest of the story is simple: Little Man grew and grew, he and I still bonded just fine in many other ways, and today he is a "big" boy with a new cup!

Growing up is hard to do, isn't it Little Man? So is growing within.
Letting you get big, watching you become such a wonderful little person, slowly letting go of the fear of what's to come, fully trusting that God WILL take care of you....it's all something that Mommy works hard at. Today we will put those bubbas in a bag, and add them to the yardsale pile! Then we will go to Walmart and buy more new sippy's! I love you my Little precious baby Man. Thank you God, that my trials are as simple as this.

Please pray for April today. My heart aches for her momma, that she may never even be able to write about bubbas and sippy cups.

Come soon, Lord Jesus.....Come soon.......