Thank you...it all makes sense now...

2nd or 3rd day in hospital

(Notice the blue in his blankie is the same as the house in Mexico. Personally, I could stare at pics of him all day...oh wait, I guess I already do that:))

I just wanted to say 'Thank You' for all of your encouragement and prayers. I've been praying that God would lead me in the right direction for the right counselor at this time. I have received a few names, one operates on a sliding scale, so that's helpful given our current financial sitch, but I'm just going to trust God for the right person and the right timing. Personally, I may take up garage 'saling' just to break dishes...I really like that idea. Actually, I have been recently missing a self-defense class I took at the college where I worked. We got to spar each other, and let me tell you, that was FUN! I used to do kick-boxing, too...that was exhilarating! It made me feel a bit "G.I. Jane" ish. I want to hurt something, not someone, so a punching bag would be nice...recently, training for the AVON walk, I get a lot of time to talk to God, listen, and think, but the only thing that hurts after that is me, from the hips down! A padded room sounds inviting,too, for obvious reasons. *I read a passage from the blog from a year ago...this must be a yearly anger emerging...you may recall this rant if you've been here a while...

The thing is, even though Noah could have been treated upon his admittance to the hospital, I don't blame the docs or nurses. I am disgusted with 'The System', but I know that most of Noah's docs and nurses loved him and wanted to care for him...and cure him. One of the chapters in Noah's book will be 'My Theory'. There I hope to crack open a whole new world of saving little ones and begin to raise awareness. I'm still doing a lot of research so don't want to speak prematurely on any of it, but with regard to Noah, I do believe his rapid health decline could have very much been prevented.

Well, Em and Jason are off playing tennis so I have a few moments to myself. I need to email my growing 'Noah for Knockers' team because we have some serious fundraising to do. We have 4 members, soon to be 6! One is a cancer survivor from blog world that I look forward to meeting and walking with. Another is a 'Locks for Love' donor from January 12th who is studying diligently to one day be a Physicians Assistant. The other two are girlfriends from college...one from Seattle and the other lives in NYC. That means, as a team, we need to raise $10,800.00! Holy Toledo, Batman! We have $50, thus far, without trying, so need to get a plan. We want to do a silent auction and get sponsors from local businesses. If anyone is interested in donating a service or items to the silent auction, you can email me here. But, given the recent advice, how much would you pay either to break a plate yourself or sponsor a mom who would love to break multiples? Huh?! Shall I do a 'Break a Plate' drive? I think I'm onto something here...helping people find a cure while helping others deal with anger...I like it...

Harder than I thought...

Since August 2nd I have had a really tough time. Part of it is coming back from Mexico where I thoroughly enjoyed my family, new friends, and meeting locals...and the other part is that somehow, 2 years later, my emotions; anger, frustration, deep sadness and longing, all of these are more poignant than they were in the hospital with Noah. Maybe because then, while experiencing those same feelings, at least I could hold him and soak him in my tears. I could eat his toes, nuggle his sweetness and stare at his beautiful face. Now, I try to cry when I am alone. I know Em has seen me cry, but two years later, does she have to be dragged through my agony? Jason wants me to see a counselor, and I really want to, but I'm afraid I've left out some details lately that are probably appropriate at this point...So, remember how Jason and Em and I drove up to South Dakota for the 4th of July? Well, the first morning we were there, Jason's job situation changed. Declaration of independence. So, though I'm not a big spender anyway, I'm not out purchasing expensive counseling sessions presently, either.

I really enjoyed our group sessions with the other parents. But I know that those meetings aren't all about me, my sorrow, my son, my hell, or my hope. I've been extremely frustrated lately at 'the system'. I can recall everything that transpired and DID NOT happen upon our arrival at the hospital with Noah. Noah is whole. He is safe. He's happier than I'll ever be until I'm in his position. But he never had to get that sick! We took him off the ventilator because we trust God but also because he was so very sick. Did I ever mention that he died right away? He was ready. Apparently, regardless of my hope in Heaven, my heart was not ready, regardless of my peace, my heart has a hole and it aches. He never had to get that sick. Did you know that from the day we walked into the hospital until the day after his lung collapsed, Noah was never treated?! #$%^&*#$%^&*#$%^&* THAT WAS 22 DAYS! Which is 22 more days than the 2 or 3 weeks of diarrhea he had at home. He had diarrhea and was weak. He was treated for his weak respirations. (Man, I can feel blood surging through my body right now because I am so angry when I think about the hospital situation and the room full of experts trying to catch a greased pig.) He was not treated for his diarrhea until AFTER his stool killed dozens of mice at the Center for Disease Control. Our hospital experience, save the nurturing care of the many of the staff, was a political nightmare!

And, after my AVON walk in NYC, I want to try, again, and I DON'T WANT TO TRY, at all! I am an oxymoron! I don't feel a need to replace Noah, I've said that on numerous occasions, because he could never be replaced, obviously. But my heart is sad for Em. She's got to be so sick of hanging out with two 30-somethings! And, the reason I don't want to try is not because I am fearful that this could all happen again. I used to be in a place where I wanted to solve Noah first before I entertained the thought of more kids. I have more than solved it, at least in my heart and through much of my research, so it happening again, I can't imagine it could...since it's PREVENTABLE! #$%^&* (I'm just puking out loud here...sorry)

So, all that to say, admittedly, I know I am an escapist. I like to retreat from my life at times because, as I found out at the hospital for 5.5 months, life still goes on without me...Mexico was great for so many reasons that I will continue to share, but Mexico was great because I got to leave my daily life and focus outward instead of on the anger that rages in this machine...

Lost in translation

Faces at the market

So, somehow on our trip I was designated as 'the translator'. Yes, I speak Spanish, I can read and write it and I understand it if the person is speaking slowly. But, medical Spanish...well, that just wasn't a class I took in college. Business, yes. Travel, yes. But not medical Spanish. I learned enough of it to get a shot in my 'bomba' (booty) once when we were on vacation. I had an allergic reaction to something and had a full body rash...that was fun. Anyway, there was a woman named Sandy from CA on the trip. She is a breast cancer survivor and became a nurse at the age of 55. She is a pediatric home care nurse for critical patients...we would have benefited from her care had Noah come home with us. She brought supplies with her to measure blood sugar levels and take blood pressure for people unable to access medical care. She chose me to be her interpreter. So, I told her that we should pray no one dies while I'm on the clock and we set out...We went to two different migrant worker camps* and set up a table and some chairs in the dirt next to the effluent water running down the road. We were able to assess many people, most with good blood pressure and healthy blood sugar levels, but between the two camps, we encountered about a dozen people with potential diabetes. I was honored to work beside Sandy and help her use her gift of nursing and to point the people in the direction of the free medical clinic in town for further assessment.

Because the migrant camps are usually located in the worst barrios, our main contact did not want the two of us ladies out there doing our street side clinic on our own. So, the second day 3 guys came along, bringing bubbles for the children and gum and such. They weren't bodyguards, but more of a presence. Well, our final 'patient' was Francisco, a beautiful old man of 70 years. He sat down in the chair, got his finger pricked, his blood pressure checked and waited. He was squirming a little as he waited, but all results were healthy, 'normal' in Spanish, which is pronounced nor mall. Well, he didn't get up from the seat when he was finished but proceeded to rattle off in Spanish something about problemas when he urinates...I mentioned to Sandy that he wanted to talk about his problemas. The 'bodyguards' suddenly were interested in where I would go with this one...Sandy wanted to know if his 'stream' was strong or weak? I said, "Cuando Ud. urina, es mas fuerte or mas despacio?" He said, "A veces es fuerte y despacio a veces." (Strong or slow/weak) Sandy said it was probably his prostate. I asked him how long he had the problema. He said 20 years. I translated to Sandy that it has been like that for 20 years. She said that he probably has an enlarged prostate, but since it's been like that for 20 years, it's probably normal for him. All 'bodyguards' eyes were on me. I kept looking around, thinking, and finally revealed to my little audience that I didn't know the word for prostate and as much as I wanted to tell him it was likely enlarged, I did not want to 'compliment' him by telling him he had grande pelotas or a grande package, so...I had to tell him it was nor mall for him. In the van on the way back to Motel Sanchez, after a good laugh, I asked everyone to hold me accountable to taking a medical Spanish class within the next year to at least learn the word for 'prostate'.

*A migrant worker camp is usually a U-shaped community of 10'x10' rooms where workers from the mountains come down to the valley to work the fields. They bring their families and live in horrible conditions for several months at a time. There is no electricity or running water.

For the love of his familia...

Imagine standing on the very lot your husband worked so diligently to buy for you and your family...where you would build your dream home together and raise your teenage daughter and sons. Imagine receiving the keys to your new home, not the one you and your husband had planned, nor sharing the second set of keys with your spouse but your daughter because daddy died two weeks after purchasing the land. Before I left for Mexico, I was working with a team to build a house for 'a widow and her 3 children'. When I arrived, I met Antonia. She is a real person...a new widow. A single mom in a dusty town in Mexico, without running water or electricity. She is quiet and has a peaceful disposition. She is in her mid 30's. She has a daughter, Viridiana who is 16. Her sons are Alexis, 11, and Eduardo, 8. They are all very quiet. I could see pain in her boys' eyes...it broke my heart. Her husband died of stomach cancer two weeks after he purchased land for his family. He did not leave them life insurance, but he left them land...and that is truly an amazing gift! I am sad that Viridiana doesn't have her dad around to measure every boy against. I am sad he isn't around to turn boys away at their new door. My heart is grateful that the boys have a new basketball hoop outside their new home...I wish their dad was rebounding their shots. And as for Antonia, the beautiful bedding that was given to her, to go on a queen sized bed, will be warm, but not as warm as if she were sharing it with her husband.
I'm grateful I know Spanish. I was able to ask her how her heart was doing...how her kids were feeling...apologize that the house we built in love wasn't the casa she and her husband had talked of building one day. I told her that I didn't understand her pain because I had not lost my husband. I did tell her about Noah and my hope in the Lord to one day see him again. She has the same hope.
One day, prior to painting the house, I asked Antonia what color she wanted. She said, "Amarillo". Her youngest, Eduardo, said, "No, mama! No me gusta amarillo! Azul!" I asked Antonia if blue was okay for her. She said yes. I asked which kind of blue, like 'that' guys t-shirt or the sky? She pointed to the sky...the 'sky blue' at the local mercantile store just happened to be the exact blue that we had painted Noah's room. We painted the interior yellow (amarillo). Actually, that is kind of funny because prior to the trip, I sewed curtains for Antonia's home. One set was yellow, the other two white with yellow trim. I just thought they would be cheerful. I didn't realize they were her favorite color.
At the beginning of the dedication party we prayed for Antonia, Viridiana, Alexis and Eduardo, for blessings in their new home, for hope in the Lord, strength for new beginnings, and for their home to be a 'Casa de Paz'. Paz is 'peace' in Spanish. You've probably read a little about peace on this blog...

Please pray for my friend, Jennifer...

Hola, Amigos!

Em on the truck ready to unload the building materials
Em helping Daddy cut the doorway
Em and the neighbor sisters trying to blow up beach balls...Guess who got to finish the slobbery job?
"Em, please don't touch the cats or dogs in Mexico, okay?"

"But mom, this one is just a puppy, it's not dirty..."

So, since we never had time to get to an Internet cafe, I'll share tidbits throughout the next couple of weeks about our time in Mexico. We had a great time! I want to thank those of you who prayed for us and supported us financially. God reminded me several times throughout the week that we were the hands and feet for many other hearts represented but not present. We were honored to be able to serve whoever God led us to. Jason and I can honestly say this was our favorite mission trip for several reasons. Because the team was made up of some families, some married people without their spouses, one 16 year old and many 20 somethings, it was the first time Jason and I have been on a trip where we didn't feel an overwhelming sense of responsibility for everyone. I'm not sure how that sounds, but every person on the trip genuinely wanted to be there, to be used, and to glorify God with their gifts. Basically, we didn't feel like we were babysitting...(and no, I didn't always feel that way on the other trips, if you were a team member in my past...)

I have a lot of stories to relay, so will share them as my memory serves me. Bear in mind, they aren't all uber spiritual, some are downright hilarious, while others gut wrenching and sobering. I pray that in sharing you will be encouraged in your faith and your perspective challenged.

So, in the picture above where Em's blowing up the beach ball with her new friends, she had just sat down in the dirt with them to play. One of the other moms on our trip had handed Em some shoes to give to the girl on the left. Instead of just handing them to the sweet girl with no front teeth due to rotting, Em plopped down in the dirt with her and took one foot at a time and placed a shoe on each. I didn't get to witness it, but the other mom, Michelle, did and said it was precious.

I'm still processing a lot of the trip with Emily, asking her questions, probing her feelings, but one thing I know is she dove right into the whole experience, didn't complain about the food or accommodations, and was a big helper the whole time. And she spoke the international language...child play.